21

First, I began by tracking that spider-man.

Fortunately, I remembered his scent.

I set down my belongings and started moving, determined to find him even if I had to mimic a dog.

Just as I resolved myself, the scent trail suddenly disappeared.

Even though he had only just come out of the cave, things were already looking grim.

I knew the reason.

He used threads to move, so no scent remained on the ground.

To add to that, if he was moving from tree to tree, then tracking him by scent would be inefficient.

(I had thought he wasn’t a favorable opponent, but maybe he was actually a terrible match for me.)

Complaining wouldn’t help.

I stretched my body and sniffed around thoroughly, even in high places, to search for his scent.

At last, I found a clue, estimated his general direction, and moved that way.

By luck, I found traces.

That meant the direction was correct, but… there was a problem.

(He’s heading toward the highway… which means he might be pursuing that carriage from before.)

I ran along the highway.

Since I had to look for traces while running, I couldn’t pick up speed, but thanks to that I discovered his trail again.

His thread had stuck to a tree.

Considering what his subordinates had said, it was more than likely he was chasing after the escaped prostitutes.

That possibility grew even stronger, so I bet on it and sped up.

I didn’t know how fast the spider-man could move, but if he was chasing a carriage, then there couldn’t be much time left.

I focused on the wheel tracks left on the highway.

I didn’t know if I could make it in time, but since I hadn’t heard screams yet, I wanted to believe they hadn’t been caught.

I checked the lump of what used to be a lattice in my hand.

Yes, I had gripped it too hard and deformed it, so I just rounded it up.

That way, even with my big hands, I could only carry one, but since it resembled the shape of something I was used to throwing, it wasn’t bad for aiming.

After almost sprinting at full power, a carriage came into sight ahead.

At the same time, I spotted the spider-man hiding in the forest, targeting it.

(I see him! So he really was after the carriage!)

Apparently, the carriage hadn’t noticed him yet and continued along the highway leisurely.

He had said:

“I was finally thinking I could torment the next woman.”

He would no doubt catch them all without letting a single one escape.

And he would certainly stage it in a way to maximize their terror.

He was that kind of cruel man who enjoyed it.

I thought about interrupting at the perfect moment, but as soon as he came into my throwing range, the spider-man noticed me.

I had wanted to get a bit closer, but since I had been discovered, I had no choice.

“Gwoooaaaah!”

I roared randomly and hurled the lump of metal in my hand with all my strength.

It flew straight, but the target leapt aside at the last instant, and the projectile embedded itself into a tree behind with a loud crack.

The carriage, realizing my presence as well, sped up to escape.

I grabbed a handy stone at my feet and threw it again at the spider-man.

Distracted by the carriage, he narrowly avoided the stone I hurled.

“Why the hell are you interfering! You half-dead bastard!”

Did he think I was dead?

Too bad, I was alive and well.

When he seemed about to chase the fleeing carriage, I threw another stone, forcing him to block with his threads.

But since I had thrown with full strength, his spewed webbing couldn’t possibly stop it, and he had no choice but to dodge, leaping to another tree and watching the carriage escape.

I wanted to see that frustrated face of his.

(The range of his threads is about 10–15 meters, it seems.)

If he chased after the carriage, he would likely catch up, but with me pressing him, could he really go after it?

Of course not.

From the strength of my throws, he had to know turning his back was dangerous.

That was why he showed signs of preparing to intercept me instead.

But I had no intention of fighting him head-on.

I stopped outside his effective range, deliberately staging a staring contest.

Naturally, it was to buy time for the carriage to escape.

From his point of view, he probably thought, “This monster is just being cautious not to make the same mistake again.” But unfortunately for him, I was the same as him—an Imperial.

Unless he moved first, I had no intention of doing so.

After a while, as the stalemate continued, the spider-man finally made a move.

He kept glancing toward the now-vanished carriage, then clicked his tongue and turned to deal with me.

That meant he was already at a disadvantage, regardless of who moved first.

At this distance, if I moved in first, I’d risk being caught by his threads.

So I wanted him to retreat or advance instead, but of course, he understood that much and feigned stepping forward whenever I drew back.

(This is when I need something to provoke him.)

I looked at the spider-man.

And just then, I found it.

No, I should say it was so obvious that I had overlooked it.

Now it was just a matter of whether I could voice it—and from experience, I was confident I could.

I pointed at the human part of the spider-man and opened my mouth.

“Haah, gueh!”

He probably didn’t understand what I said, so I tried again, this time speaking more clearly.

“Ha, geh!”

Then I pointed at his bald head and kept repeating, “Bald! Bald!”

Me?

I just had no body hair, that’s all.

With this, he would know I was an Imperial, but since we had already fought to kill each other, repairing relations was impossible anyway.

After being called “Bald Bald” over and over, he finally flew into a rage and came at me shouting something.

Of course, I had no intention of meeting him head-on, so I leapt back while continuing to chant, “Bald Bald.”

A chase began—when he stopped, I stopped; when he fled, I pursued.

I didn’t care about the means.

I just kept the distance between us and attacked endlessly with thrown objects.

I gave him no time to rest.

No meals, no water, no sleep—I interrupted them all.

It was survival of the fittest, and there were no forbidden tactics.

Let’s see who gave in first.

A full day passed.

After about eight hours of trying, the spider-man finally gave up on shaking me off.

He tried counterattacking with threads, but since I never approached and only kept throwing things, he was forced to abandon that tactic quickly.

Once the difference in physical ability became clear, he stopped trying brute force altogether.

As for the threads he left while running, I just tangled them up with a stick, so they hardly stuck to me at all.

To actually stop me, a few strands weren’t enough—he’d need a net-level trap, which was impossible to set while on the move.

He tried to attack a few times, but I always retreated to gain distance.

A straight fight?

As if—I wasn’t about to risk his poison.

He shouted all sorts of abuse, but when I pretended not to understand, he suddenly exclaimed, “You bastard! You do understand our language!”—apparently still unsure if I was another genetically enhanced soldier.

Well, I couldn’t speak Imperial clearly enough to convince him, and merely pointing at his head and saying “Bald Bald” wasn’t proof enough.

Then came the second night—there was no way I could lose sight of him with night vision and the ability to track by scent. Keeping my distance wasn’t a problem.

The first night, he vented his frustration by pounding the ground. The second night, he just clicked his tongue bitterly.

When I kept throwing stones, he gave up on sleep entirely and tried holing up.

But there was no building strong enough to block my throws, and the hut he found—likely man-made—quickly collapsed into ruins.

Sometimes he tried talking to me, hoping I’d understand, but I ignored him.

Pretending not to understand, I toyed with him with growls and roars.

Dawn broke.

Even then, I stuck to him, pelting him with stones.

Sometimes I threw other things, and I thought his evasive ability was starting to dull.

But I didn’t stop.

When I ruined his meal attempt yet again—he had tried to eat a rabbit tied up in his threads—I hit the rabbit with a stone, knocking it from his grasp.

Then I followed up with another throw, kicking up dirt to bury it.

I approached slightly that time, but quickly retreated to maintain distance.

Since I had interfered with him so often, he tried spitting poison when I stepped forward, but of course, I avoided it easily, and it all went to waste.

Repeating this, another day ended.

Night fell.

This time I closed the distance deliberately, exuding a different atmosphere than before.

Still, I kept about eight meters between us.

Though I threw stones less frequently, I kept him tense, making him wonder when I might attack. It was to wear him down mentally.

All he could do was shout.

Surely he understood now—physically, he could never win.

His poison and threads, once his trump cards, had been countered; I forced him to waste them.

His traps were useless under constant surveillance, leaving him no way to turn the tables.

Since he already knew “fighting me head-on means losing,” he couldn’t bring himself to make the first move anymore.

Now, probably to conserve energy, he refrained from using both poison and threads.

So I kicked up dirt and showered him with it.

Still no reaction.

So I picked up a stone with my tail and tossed it to my hand.

Close call, but I caught it—after all, I had practiced.

I was about to throw when the spider-man spoke.

“…Why?”

I ignored him and crushed one of his spider legs.

“Why the hell are you doing this to me!?”

He genuinely didn’t understand the reason for this harassment.

So I answered him.

“Guooaah—”

A foolish, mocking roar—pure provocation.

He trembled, then snapped and charged at me.

I fled.

After a short chase, I pulled about fifteen meters away and watched him panting.

He shouted something again, but I ignored it.

After a while, I closed back to about eight meters.

He looked about to cry, but so what?

When he turned his back and staggered away, I threw a broken branch.

It stuck in his spider abdomen, but he had no strength left to react.

“I’m starving… nothing’s coming out anymore… I should have conserved it.”

From his regretful muttering, I guessed the overuse of poison and threads had drained him too fast.

From his spider abdomen, a short, half-spun thread dangled limply.

When I approached, he tried spitting again, but it was nothing more than spit now—easy to dodge, and it didn’t even kill the grass it landed on.

In return, I kicked two of his spider legs, sending him stumbling.

Then, for good measure, I tore off another.

With three legs gone from his left side, he could only crawl.

Disgusted by his grotesque movements, I tore off all his legs.

He struggled, trying to crawl with only his arms.

“Why… why…”

From behind, I grabbed him by the nape, pressed his body against the point where human and spider met—and stomped down.

“GYAAAAAAAaaahhhhhh!”

In my hand, I now held the separated human half, blood gushing as his body dangled in the air.

I pressed his gasping face against a tree and carved letters before his eyes with my claw.

—DIE—

Even in the dark forest with only moonlight, he seemed able to read the Imperial letters.

“H-help… help… me…”

Realizing who I was, he gave a sycophantic smile, begging.

Ignoring him, I tightened my grip on his neck.