"How do you know itās the correct one?" the Strahlfang watcher asked, speaking for the first time since theyād crossed the bridge. His tone was skeptical, actively searching for inconsistencies that would prove outside assistance.
Ren looked at him briefly, expression patient in the way of someone explaining obvious things to someone willfully blind.
"Because the weaving pattern indicates it was built in the wet season and weāre in the dry season," he said, pointing to details that became visible once attention was directed properly. "The strands are spaced uniformly, which means transit route and not trap or defensive weaving. And..." he indicated marks almost invisible on the web, subtle differences in texture and color, "those are signs of dryness damage. What happens after ten years or more of exposure to elements."
"An abandoned transit route is exactly what we want," Zhao added from behind, clearly impressed despite having seen Renās expertise demonstrated before. Understanding the value of a path that weavers no longer actively maintained or defended.
The Strahlfang said nothing more in response, but wrote something in his notebook with deliberate strokes, ink marking paper with permanent record. since he was spewing knowledge that couldnāt be explained by learning from books.
Recording.
Documenting.
Searching for evidence of cheating that didnāt exist, that couldnāt exist because this was simply knowledge applied with precisiĆ³n in a logical manner.
"Forward," Ren gestured toward the tunnel while fusing with his Wolverine, transformation smooth and practiced. "Stay together, donāt touch the walls because Iām going to keep treating them with elemental magic to facilitate our return. And if you hear movement..." he paused for emphasis, making sure they understood the importance, "run toward me, donāt break the tunnel by fighting incorrectly."
"Why?" one of the newer members asked, nervousness evident in the question and the way his hand kept drifting toward his bond system in their chest.
"Because I know how to deal correctly with weavers," Ren responded simply, stating a fact without arrogance. "You donāt... But if you watch and learn you can do it on your own afterward."
And without further explanation or waiting for questions he couldnāt answer quickly, he entered the tunnel.
Sunlight disappeared almost immediately, replaced by diffuse glow that filtered through layers of silk. Light transformed and softened until it barely illuminated, creating twilight in what should have been midday. It was sufficient to see, but barely, vision reduced to shapes and shadows.
The rest of the team followed, some more reluctant than others, footsteps hesitant on silk floors that felt too organic underfoot.
The watcher entered last, only one bird still on his shoulder, the other presumably still circling above to maintain aerial surveillance of the area.
And outside, observing from distance with calculation in their eyes, the other teams looked at each other with silent communication passing between them.
If they could sabotage him without being caught...
If they could make his team fail while they succeeded through interference disguised as competition...
It was worth the risk of consequences they thought they could avoid through plausible deniability.
They began entering through other tunnels, dispersing into the white labyrinth with confidence born from numbers and hostile intent.
Hunters seeking prey they thought vulnerable in unfamiliar territory.
Without realizing that in weaver territory, in spaces built by predators whoād perfected ambush over evolutionary millennia...
They were the ones being trapped.
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
The tunnel was wider than it seemed from outside, optical illusion created by silk walls that absorbed rather than reflected light.
Light filtered in diffuse white tones, creating an environment that was simultaneously beautiful and unsettling. Like walking through clouds made solid, through spaces that shouldnāt exist in nature.
Klein walked in the middle of the group, maintaining respectful distance from Ren ahead. The other three team members stayed close, their expressions varying between nervousness and fascination as they experienced something no textbook had prepared them for.
Zhao went in the rear guard alongside the Strahlfang watcher, both observing but not intervening in team dynamics or decision-making.
For now at least. Authority held in reserve.
Ren stopped in front of a section of the silk wall, touching it with his extended hand, palm flat against the surface.
"Do you have to touch it? Werenāt you already marking from behind?" one of the members asked, confusion evident because theyād been walking for several minutes already.
"I donāt need to touch it... but Iām marking a bit differently here before the bifurcation," Ren responded without looking back, attention focused on the task at hand.
His hand began glowing softly, with visible light that left his handprint marked on the wall like luminescent paint.
It was different because it was different from his previous marks that had been subtler, harder to see. Ren had been expelling around himself something Klein recognized as concentrated mana flow, watching with eyes that could perceive what others missed. Two types interweaving in complex patterns.
Water and wood elements dancing together in harmony.
The mana flowed all the way from Ren toward the silk, extending like invisible roots through the strands, penetrating deep into the structure. The web didnāt change visibly immediately, transformation taking time to manifest. But Klein could feel something altering in its structure, molecular changes happening beneath perceptionās surface.
"This just burns it without starting a fire," Ren explained while moving, education happening alongside action. "The elemental mana Iāve been expelling around my body is different because it makes the silk become more nutritious for the trees," he continued, moving to the right tunnel of the bifurcation and repeating the process of expelling mana around himself. "The trees will respond by absorbing more of the web in these areas with their preferred mana. In a few hours and over five days, the tunnel we follow will paint itself black from the transformation of white silk where mana impregnated it."
"Black?" another team member repeated, a girl with a bear whoād been particularly nervous since they entered, eyes darting to every shadow and movement. "The silk will turn black?"
"Making it easy to recognize the exit route," Ren confirmed with satisfaction at the elegant solution. "Although getting there will take a bit longer on this first trip. The next two will be faster once the path is marked clearly."
The Strahlfang observed with intense attention that bordered on obsessive. His expression was that of someone still trying to find the trick, the deception, the way this could be considered undue help rather than simply expertise applied. Surely there had to be something he could report, some violation hidden beneath apparent legitimacy.
But there was no trick he could identify.
It was simply knowledge applied again, with precision and planning. Understanding how ecosystems worked and using them to his advantage through methods anyone could theoretically replicate if they possessed the same foundational understanding.
Klein observed too, but for different reasons that had nothing to do with finding violations.
Heād spent the first months of their academy life seeing Ren as inferior, as someone beneath his station and ability. As someone with luck to be in a prestigious academy but without true skill or merit. As a fraud whoād somehow deceived the system through connections or circumstances that had nothing to do with actual capability.
Heād been wrong, heād learned that long ago indeed. But this demonstration of expertise seemed too effortless...
This wasnāt luck or connections saving someone from their own incompetence.
This was deep understanding of creatures and environments that Klein barely recognized, that textbooks had never covered in sufficient detail. It was confidence born from real experience, not from arrogance or pretension that crumbled under pressure.
And Klein was beginning to wonder if heād been much more wrong than heād believed, about so many things beyond just Renās abilities.
Then they found it.
The first weaver.
It was small, the size of a small child, Iron rank evident in the gleam characteristic of young spiders still growing into their power. It moved across the tunnel wall with rapid and nervous movements, clearly alerted by their presence invading space it considered home territory.
The team members tensed immediately, preparing for combat. It was just a weak weaver, but in its territory...
Klein partially summoned his lion, feeling the energy invade his body with familiar rush of power, muscles enhancing as fusion began.
But Ren simply raised one hand in a gesture that commanded stillness.
"Stay still," he ordered calmly, voice carrying no urgency despite the approaching threat.
Then, almost casually as if swatting a fly, he blew some air.
It wasnāt a normal breath. It was condensed wind mana, a controlled gust that struck the spider with perfect accuracy, force calculated exactly to achieve desired effect without excess.
The creature went flying down the tunnel, disappearing into distance with a surprised shriek that echoed through silk corridors.
"Thatās it?" the hawk girl asked, blinking in confusion at the anticlimactic resolution. "Thatās all youāre going to do? No fatal hit?"
"Itās Iron rank and the source of the silk weāre going to be harvesting," Ren responded, already continuing down the tunnel as if nothing of significance had happened, as if combat that others prepared for was barely worth noticing. "Not worth eliminating. Just moving it away is sufficient... Since we may want to come back in the future."
Conservation of resources and ecology in one efficient gesture.