The minotaurs didn't move.
From their camp of grass huts and stone pillows, they just... stood. Idle. Watching.
Rue had been left to watch them, a show of trust that should've honored her. Instead, her gut twisted like she'd swallowed live coals.
Their collective aura pressed down on her, thick enough to taste. It dragged claws along her neck, shoved her spine against phantom walls. And the worst part?
Fignar wasn't even here.
The king had slipped away during their Fenrir negotiations. No warning. No trail. Not that anyone seemed eager to chase him down—least of all Rue. Every extra minute of stillness was a gift.
In the village center, the four of them stood in a circle around Sirius. His hands pressed against the makeshift table—a slab of wood balanced on uneven stones—where a large dried leaf served as their battle map.
Scratches and lines marked potential strategies, contingencies, angles of attack.
What if the Fenrir lost too quickly?
What if Fignar was much stronger than anticipated?
What if the Fenrir betrayed them, backing out last minute?
Sirius sighed, fingers tapping absent-mindedly on the table. The others remained silent, letting him think. It was the least they could do.
Elendira's fingers twitched at her sides.
She wanted to speak.
An idea pressed against her teeth, begging to be let out. But the lessons of a lifetime held her tongue.
She had been born when Borcust first took the throne, before Cela existed. The Spider king had seen so much potential in her raw strength that would rot unused if left untrained.
So he took her under his wing. Forged her in fire and pain. The training had been brutal, agonizing, the sort of suffering that scrapes away weakness layer by layer.
It was horrible, but it was necessary.
Because of it, she became worthy of the name Sirius had given her.
Because of it, the clan respected her.
But she had never once spoken unless spoken to.
That was the law of all clans: subordinates did not offer counsel unbidden. It was this same law that had kept her silent when Horst's blade found Borcust's back. She had seen the attack coming, recognized the trickery in Horst's eyes and said nothing. Because she hadn't been asked.
Now, her breath caught as Sirius looked up at her, his smile patient, encouraging.
"...Young Master," she managed, her voice cracking like thin ice.
"Yes?" Sirius didn't rush her. He understood better than anyone how hard change could be.
Elendira clenched her fists, felt her nails bite into her palms.
"I... think you're approaching this wrong." The words came slowly, each one a battle. "Fignar... he's been Minotaur king for decades. He fights... differently. He only enters battle personally when his army fails or the enemy king is forced to surrender."
History.
Sirius's eyes lit with understanding. "So unlike Horst or Harra, who lead from the front. If we can intercept Fignar before he reaches the Fenrir camp..."
"He'll be alone," Elendira finished, the words coming easier now.
Garura opened his mouth to speak.
It was easier this time since he wasn't speaking out of turn, and was merely replying to Elendira. But before a single word could leave his lips, Sirius raised his hand.
The conversation died instantly.
Then came the nod. Permission.
Garura bit his tongue. After a lifetime of silence, even this small freedom felt foreign. The five of them were Sirius's strongest warriors, the backbone of the village's military might. Yet here their king stood, trying to coax words from mouths trained for decades to stay shut.
He tried again.
But Rune spoke first, stabbing a finger at the battle plans scratched into the dried leaf. "There's still a pressing issue..." His voice shook slightly. "Fignar himself might just be... too strong."
The words hung like sacrilege in the air.
To suggest another king might be stronger was blasphemy of the highest order. Rune's throat tightened—he wanted to stab himself for uttering such treason.
But Sirius's eyes met his, not with anger, but understanding. "That's the problem I'm wrestling with," their king admitted. "From Harra's descriptions—no, from what I've felt of his strength... Fignar could decimate both our villages single-handedly. Even if I ambushed him..." Sirius said. "I don't think I could win."
"Then why must you face him alone?" Elendira's finger jabbed at the crude drawing showing Sirius in single combat against the minotaur king. "We fight together."
The suggestion was radical.
King battles were traditionally one-on-one affairs, crown against crown, strength against strength. But those were customs, not laws. The true rules allowed anything, brought anyone.
Yet Sirius had never invoked that right, he didn't want to.
"I don't want to see any of you hurt," Sirius said, exhaling. "Somehow that seems worse than death itself."
Garura snatched up a stone and scraped five rough figures next to Sirius's marker on the leaf. "That's our job, isn't it?" His voice gained strength. "We're your generals, aren't we?"
"Wow, that's a cool name." Alaric finally chimed in, the tension breaking as he leaned forward. "Are we numbered? Or are we all equal generals? because if so, I'm definitely number one—"
"I'm obviously number one—the closest to Sirius!" Elendira declared, then immediately coughed into her fist when Sirius turned to her. "I mean... we're all equal, of course."
A soft chuckle escaped Sirius's lips, the sound almost foreign in their grim planning.
"So," Sirius said, staring down at the leaf where their fates were etched in fragile lines, "are we truly committing to this plan? Even with less than half a chance of victory?"
"Fignar is strong," Elendira said, her voice steady. "Most likely stronger than us. But he is no match for the man who threw a dagger into the eyes of a twelve-foot spider."
Sirius let out a laugh, half-bluff, half-defiance."You're probably right." He straightened, "Alright. Here's the plan."
He leaned forward, locking eyes with each of his generals in turn. In mere days, they'd shattered their chains, built a village from nothing, and now stood poised to end an invasion.
What a week.
The absurdity of it all drew a quiet laugh from deep within. "Okay," he started. "The minotaurs might not be moving for now, and Fignar might still be missing, but don't let that fool you. The attack is coming soon, that much I'm sure of."
His hands came down hard on the makeshift table, making the dried leaf map shudder.
"Here's how it breaks down. The Fenrir and Harra will handle the lower minotaurs. Yes, it's a gamble, but the fact Harra agreed means he believes he can win."
"And that's where we come in," Garura interjected, punching his opposite palm for emphasis.
Sirius nodded. "We ambush Fignar in one of two places—either back at the minotaur camp after his forces begin their invasion, or along the route to the Fenrir camp if Harra succeeds in breaking their army, that would be ideal."
"Ideal? Does the location matter?" Rune asked. "Does it really matter where we ambush him?"
Sirius shook his head. "The Minotaur territory is all open ground—no cover, no obstacles. After fighting Horst, I learned the hard way how deadly that is." He said. "In the forest, we can use the trees for concealment, break line of sight, control his movements and hide ours, we're smaller than him after all."
If they wanted to stand a chance, they needed to use every bit of an advantage they could accrue.
"I like that," Elendira said, approval clear in her voice.
"Is that clear to everyone?" Sirius asked. When he received nods all around, he sighed and pushed himself away from the table. "Rune, go brief your sister on the plan, everyone else is dismissed for the time being."
"Understood." Rune's response was immediate.
"Elendira." Sirius's voice was quieter now. "With me."
They walked in silence toward the forest, retracing steps to the cave Sirius had previously reduced to ashes. There was no particular reason to go there now, just a need to train, to prepare.
As they walked, Sirius glanced to his side. A purple screen materialized in his vision:
[Equipment: Base twin daggers(Lv1) (Durability-)]
[Materials: Spider Kings hide (Craft material), Spider Kings Silk (Enhancement material), Thick goblin hide (Craft material), Medium vitality blood vialx7, High vitality blood vial]
The materials in his possession could certainly be crafted into weapons or armor—but the process remained a mystery.
"System, craft."
Nothing happened.
Exactly as he'd expected.
The system's notifications were notoriously inconsistent. Sometimes it provided detailed explanations, other times, like now, it remained silent. But that wasn't his immediate concern.
Purple light shimmered as daggers materialized in his hands, the glow fading as soon as the weapons fully formed.
He turned to Elendira, who stood several paces away atop the rubble of the destroyed cave. "Train with me," he said. "To defeat Fignar, I can't just rely on you all—I need to pull my own weight."
"You fight well enough," she observed, studying him. "Your posture is correct, your stance balanced, and your decisions logical."
She wasn't wrong—and that confused him. Without any formal training in both this world and the past, combat came unnaturally easy for whatever reason. The system must be assisting him somehow.
He glanced sideways, expecting a notification. Nothing appeared.
A sigh escaped him.
"My daggers are damaged," Sirius admitted, examining the chipped blades. "With no way to repair them, I need proper combat skills in case they fail."
"I understand," Elendira said. "If this is what you want, I'll help."
What he truly wanted was instinctive knowledge—how to counter a leg sweep, block an uppercut, or absorb a punch. Reacting to attacks mid-fight, after they'd already hurt him wasn't enough. Relying on the system wasn't enough.
He needed real skill.
"Thanks," Sirius said, then hesitated. "But how will you—" He began offering her a dagger when she shook her head.
"You keep forgetting we're Arachne," she reminded him. Silk shot from her palm, hardening midair into a gleaming dagger.
The demonstration made his point perfectly.
If this had been a real fight—if she'd come at him with that blade forming midair—he would have frozen. That moment of hesitation would have been fatal. He couldn't afford such weakness anymore. Not when their lives all depended on him.
Sirius crossed his daggers before his face. "Ready?"
Elendira gave a curt nod.
He lunged, blades slicing toward her neck—pulling the strike short at the last moment.
Then the world inverted.
Blue sky filled his vision.
His back hit the ground with a thud.
[System notification: training session lost]
"Fuck you," Sirius muttered from the dirt.