The grand castle loomed over a sea of people, its entrance swarmed by eager subjects waiting for their king’s speech. Laughter and music filled the air, a festival of joy and triumph. Banners snapped in the wind, bearing symbols of the kingdom’s might. But none stood prouder than the line of knights upon the stage, each one responsible for the death of a female drider. Their armor gleamed under the midday sun, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords as they awaited the praise of their king.

As the ruler ascended the stage, his voice boomed across the courtyard, commanding his people to cheer for their noble knights—the heroes who had ensured the extinction of a monstrous race.

Then, the world shifted.

The stage trembled beneath a sudden weight, the cheers turning to horrified screams as a hulking figure emerged from the shadows.

November.

Towering over them all, he was a nightmare pulled from the depths of legend. His upper body, lean and powerful, bore deep scars from a lifetime of battles, his crimson eyes burning with fury. But it was his lower half that sent true terror through the crowd—a monstrous spider’s body, its thick black carapace gleaming like polished obsidian. Eight legs, each as thick as a man’s torso, crashed against the stone as he surged forward, his movements both swift and unnervingly graceful. Fangs glistened in the light, venom dripping onto the stage, sizzling where it touched the wood.

In an instant, November struck.

One clawed hand lashed out, seizing the king in a vice grip. The ruler barely had time to choke out a gasp before he was hoisted high into the air, his gilded robes tangling around him. The knights drew their swords, but their hands trembled. They had spent their lives slaughtering females—smaller, weaker, easy prey. But this was something else entirely.

November’s voice, guttural and filled with centuries of rage, thundered over the panicked screams.

"You killed them all. Every last one."

He tightened his grip, the king's face turning red as his people cowered below.

"Killing the females. Too weak to even attempt to kill the males." He growls, his claws digging into the king's neck, cutting deeply into his skin. Blood spills and screams fill the air. The knights, never having to fight a male drider, run off in fear.

"Cowards.. All of them are Cowards."

Tonight was meant to be a celebration of their victory over the driders. Instead, it would become the night they learned fear.

And then—he froze.

A scent. Faint beneath the stench of humans, but unmistakable. His entire body stiffened, instincts roaring to life, disbelieving what they were telling him.

A female.

Impossible. They were gone—wiped from existence, hunted to extinction. Yet the scent was real, sharp and undeniable. His kind’s last hope... or the ultimate target.

His crimson gaze swept the crowd, searching, desperate. Somewhere among these humans, she was there. Watching. Hidden. November's eyes frantically search in the wave of screaming and running humans, trying to pinpoint the source of the scent.

His eyes narrow on a hooded figure... you.

Tonight was meant to be the night he made them all pay. Instead, it had become the night everything changed.