CHAPTER 297: THE WEAVER'S BLADES

Deep within the subterranean chambers of the Arachne Pyramid, thirty days passed in a relentless, feverish blur.

The fifty-one Crow Arcane Adepts had entered as pure backline spellcasters, accustomed to standing safely behind heavy shields, weaving defensive wards, and chanting spatial arrays. The Arachne Sovereign shattered that concept within her very first hour.

"Standing in the rear chanting like grandfathers is a waste of spatial talent," the Princess declared, her eight jewel-like eyes gleaming in the dim, ether-lit vault. "Space is not just a shield. It is the sharpest edge in existence."

For one brutal month, she subjected the mages to an agonizing evolution. Using her divine spatial thread arts, she taught them to condense their feathered spatial mana into razor-thin monofilament strands, invisible spatial threads capable of slicing through dense obsidian plate as if it were parchment. Rather than casting distant spells, she forced them to weave these filaments directly into physical weapons, forging a new, deadly discipline: Spatial Thread Blademancy.

The training was unforgiving. The mages were stripped of their long robes and thrust into relentless close-quarters combat drills, clad instead in lightweight obsidian-chitin battle tunics woven by the Princess herself. Carrying twin slender void-rapiers, they learned to anchor spatial threads across a battlefield, using them as high-tension cables to slingshot through folded space at blinding speeds. Soft spellcaster physiques hardened into lethal grace, and casting logic completely transformed.

Meanwhile, in the Great Hall above, Caius was in the middle of reviewing provincial defense maps alongside his high officers when space tore open without warning. A jagged, shimmering rift in reality shattered the air beside the throne, and the Arachne Princess stepped through, her eight jewel-like eyes gleaming with mischievous intent.

"My King... would you test my magic-bladesmen?" she purred.

Caius blinked, caught entirely off guard. "Hah?"

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"Come, come," she urged, waving a slender claw toward the pulsing void door. "You will like their new skills in magic."

Curiosity piqued, Caius stepped into the spatial rift, and Old Bones instantly melted into the shadow behind him, following close on his heels.

They emerged inside the vast subterranean pyramid vault, where the fifty-one transformed mages stood in waiting. The atmosphere inside was thick with lethal tension. Thousands of monofilament spatial threads spanned the chamber, vibrating with invisible, razor-sharp energy.

Caius ran a hand through the ambient mana air, his eyes widening slightly in appreciation. "Oh... what sharpness. The threads are cutting like thin wires."

Old Bones narrowed his silver-grey eyes at the suspended web of death, a sudden, involuntary shudder running down his spine. One careless movement inside this room would slice an unprepared battalion into ribbons.

A glint of genuine excitement flared in Caius’s golden-and-obsidian eyes. A faint smirk touched his lips as he reached to his hips, drawing a pair of plain wooden dual short swords, his preferred sparring weapons.

Seeing his posture, the Arachne Princess brought her clawed hands together with a sharp Clap!

"Attack the King all at once!" she commanded.

The fifty-one Void-Filament Bladesmen vanished instantly into folded space. They zipped across their thread network from every conceivable angle, appearing out of sub-dimensional tears with thrusting void-rapiers and crisscrossing spatial cuts.

Ten seconds. That was all it took.

A storm of precise wooden strikes, kinetic parries, and shockwave bursts detonated through the vault. When the dust settled, Caius stood effortlessly in the center of the arena, casually spinning his wooden short swords before resting them over his shoulders. All fifty-one bladesmen lay scattered across the stone floor, some knocked completely unconscious, others groaning in pain as they clutched bruised limbs and shattered weapon guards.

The Arachne Princess clicked her tongue in sheer irritation.

"Tsch, sorry my King... I may have to train them again."

"Do not be too hard on them," Caius said, his relaxed demeanor suddenly shifting into grave intensity. He turned his gaze toward the northern bedrock, his Tri-Pupil Eye penetrating deep through the stone. "War is brewing. I can feel it pulsing from the other side of the gate... a rot horde of the Ruinborne is amassing in the wastes."

The Arachne Sovereign’s eight eyes narrowed with lethal excitement. A dark, hungry smile spread across her face as she looked down at her battered, groaning students.

"One month is enough," she whispered softly.

Without another word, the brutal training restarted.