From the depths of the nest, argalias walk back and forth. They seem to each have a different purpose, some carry dirt in their mandibles while others stand around the tunnels and some carry entire animals and even chunks of them.
Suddenly one of the tunnel's floor collapses. Every argalia inside stops what they are doing and gathers around the new hole.
A few creatures emerge from the hole with a sharp, high-pitched hum that pierces the air, in short, rhythmic bursts like a sort of morse code. The sound is more felt than heard, vibrating through the argalia skulls.
The creatures stand on two legs, their insectoid forms disturbingly humanoid. Each arm ends in a grotesque, serrated blade extending above their hands, jagged and glinting like forged steel.
Their carapace is adorned with spikes and sharp ridges, each edge seeming to serve both as armor and weapon.
Though their torsos and limbs appear thin, almost malnourished, their chests, forearms and lower legs are heavily bulked, radiating raw strength. Behind them, bulbous, segmented tails sway like pendulums, reminiscent of an ant's abdomen.
Their small, angular heads are almost embedded into their chests, with backward-sweeping antennae that twitch erratically as each of their high-pitched hums is heard.
The new creatures descend upon the argalias with merciless efficiency, their bladed arms cutting through the web-strewn cavern in lethal arcs.
The once-dominant spiders screech in desperation, their attempts to fight back proving futile as the creatures rip through their ranks. The arachnids are sliced apart with effortless precision, their armored shells offering no more resistance than paper to the deadly blades.
Each movement of the Thaxil is calculated and terrifying, their precision making it clear they are not acting out of mere instinct but with deadly intelligence.
The cries of the argalias reverberate through the tunnels of the nest.
At the camp, the hunters freeze as the horrifying sounds of screeching argalias reach them, the clash of destruction cutting through the stillness of the forest.
The group around the campfire freezes in shock, their heads snapping toward the direction of the creatures' agonized screeches. Overhead, birds erupt from the treetops in a frantic swarm, their wings cutting through the air as they flee past the encampment.
The cries of the argalias grow weaker. The hunters exchange uneasy glances, their weapons drawn but their confidence shaken.
"That does not sound good." Ark mutters grimly, standing and hefting his hammer. His jaw tightens as he surveys the treeline.
Ciel steps out of the tent, her eyes scanning the camp as the tension in the air prickles at her skin. "What was that?" She asks, worry carried in her words.
"We need to move Eska to the main tent—it'll be easier to defend!" Ark shouts and the hunters spring into action without hesitation.
Eska is carefully helped by the group.
One of the hunters mutters softly, "She's still recovering from the transfusion—take it slow." Despite their care, Eska's gaze remains fixed on the direction of the nest, her unease clear in the way her eyes linger.
The group stands in a tight formation near the tent, weapons drawn, their eyes surveying the forest for any sign of movement. One hunter mutters under their breath, the words tumbling out in a desperate mantra. "Please don't be them. Please don't be them. Please don't be them."
The ground begins to vibrate faintly, a low hum reverberating through their feet.
Moments later, the treeline erupts with motion as a swarm of argalias bursts forth, charging in their direction. But something is off—many of the creatures veer wildly, weaving through the trees without any apparent focus.
Others pass so close that they should notice the hunters but sprint past without a second glance, their frenzied behavior unnerving the group even further.
A few of the argalias lunge toward the hunters but Ark meets them head-on, his hammer crashing down with devastating force.
The attacks are sporadic, so infrequent that the rest of the team doesn't have the chance to attack before Ark dispatches the threats.
Before long, the remaining creatures scatter, their chaotic movements carrying them deeper into the forest until they vanish entirely into the shadows.
One of them finally lowers his weapons, looking around in relief. "We could have taken them." He says with a nervous chuckle.
One of the hunters finally lowers his weapon, glancing around with a mix of relief and lingering tension. "We could take them," he says, forcing a nervous chuckle.
Ark stands at the center of the camp, his hammer resting heavily against the ground as the group gathers around him.
The firelight dances across their tense faces, the earlier chaos still fresh in their minds.
"We need answers," Ark says firmly, his voice cutting through the silence. "The argalias didn't just scatter—they were fleeing from something. If Eska's right and there's Thaxil beneath the nest, we need to confirm it."
One of the hunters steps forward with a calm expression "A scouting party could work but we'll need to move fast. The deeper we go, the more likely we'll run into something we can't handle."
She glances around at the group, her eyes assessing each hunter. "I only need two more."
Two of them volunteer for the scouting mission, gathering themselves and getting ready to leave.
Ark then tells them "As soon as you see anything, make your way back. No unnecessary risks."
They all nod and head out.
As the hunters near the outskirts of the nest, they encounter the remnants of the argalia's webbed territory.
The dense silken threads that once stretched between the trees and bushes now hang in ragged shreds, torn apart by the panicked flight of the argalias.
Scattered among the ruins of the webs are the carcasses of trapped animals—boars, deer and smaller creatures.
The hunters slow their pace, their boots crunching over debris as they take in the chaotic scene.
"Looks like the whole forest turned on itself," one mutters, his voice low, as another grimaces at the pungent stench of decay hanging in the air.
One of the hunters tightens the grip on his axe, his gaze darting between the torn webs, the shredded prey and the ominous silence surrounding them.
The hunters finally reach the canopy of bent trees. As the hunters step into it, the vast open space feels eerily desolate.
The webbing that once stretched overhead in thick, glistening sheets has been ripped to shreds, dangling uselessly from the bending trees. The ground is littered with fragments of silk and broken branches, the remnants of the argalia's panicked escape.
Sunlight filters unevenly through the gaps, casting strange, shifting patterns on the ruined terrain.
Nen, the leader, pauses. She raises her bow as she surveys the destruction. "They tore through everything," she whispers.
Another moves cautiously beside her, his eyes scanning the canopy's edges, while the last grips his axe tightly, the oppressive silence gnawing at their nerves. "This place feels… wrong," he mutters, none disagree.
The hunters push forward, their steps growing slower and more cautious as they near the center of the canopy.
The once dense nest is now a graveyard—argalia corpses are strewn across the ground, their bodies twisted, cut and torn in unnatural ways.
Deep gashes run through their carapaces, splitting their hardened shells as though struck by an impossibly sharp blade. Some lie crumpled with limbs severed cleanly, while others are crushed, their innards spilling out in grotesque heaps.
The stench of blood and decay hangs heavy in the air, making them cover her nose as they step over the shattered corpses.
"What could do this?" A hunter mutters, his voice tight as his gaze sweeps the carnage.
"These things kicked Valen's ass. If the girl might've been right." Says Nen.
The scale of the destruction is overwhelming, each corpse a testament to the raw power of whatever lies deeper inside.
They reach the gaping entrance to the nest, its once webbed walls now shredded and sagging, barely recognizable. The pillar that once hung in the center has been severed, its lower half now lying shattered on the ground.
Inside, the scene is even worse. The tight confines are filled with argalia bodies piled atop one another, their legs bent at unnatural angles and their shells punctured by jagged wounds.
A few have their heads completely crushed, the fragments of their carapace scattered across the floor like shards of blackened glass.
Nan crouches near a particularly mangled corpse, its abdomen split open and its internal organs spilling out onto the floor. "This was a massacre." her voice trembling slightly.
The silence is shattered by a high-pitched hiss that reverberates through the nest, freezing the hunters in place.
Before they can react, a shadow moves with impossible speed and one of the towering creatures emerges from the darkness.
Its serrated blades gleam in the dim light as it lunges forward. One of the hunters barely has time to shout a warning before the creature strikes, its bladed arm slicing cleanly through his midsection.
"Merek!" Nen shouts as Merek's body crumples to the ground in two pieces, the look of shock frozen on his face as he hits the floor. Blood splatters across the walls as the last hunter screams, the sound swallowed by the creature's pings.