Ren gently closed his eyes, exhaling very slowly.
He hesitated.
Silence enveloped everything, but then… he raised a finger.
Slowly. Carefully. Each tap was a gamble.
– .- .-. -.- / ..-. .-.. .- .-..
(MARK FLAL – old codename, another keyword learned at the academy.)
Besides attending survival class with teacher Julius, Ren also took several other classes.
Although he wasn't really interested in them, Ren understood that he should build some relationships.
Or at least cultivate a neutral image, because his "reputation"… was not very friendly like its owner.
Getting acquainted with a few people who might be his teammates entering the Dream Realm was not a total waste.
Ren also picked up on how the Legacies and some other students used secret communication during long classes.
A moment of waiting.
Then a response came. Slower, shakier.
-.-. .- … - . .-. / … . -. - / -.– — ..-
(Caster sent you.)
Ren's heart tightened.
Not out of fear. But because too many things piled up at once — memories, hopes, and the fear of being deceived.
He tapped again.
… - .–. …. . -. ..–..
(Stephen?)
Silence.
Then:
"I… don't know… I think so…"
The voice almost shattered, as if the speaker himself wasn't sure who he still was.
Ren leaned his head against the silk layer, sweat trickling down his forehead.
If this was a trap… it was too skillful and subtle.
But if not, then maybe he wasn't the only survivor.
Not the last one who still held onto something… called humanity.
The tapping came again, weaker, more broken.
.. / .- – / …. ..- .-. -
(I am hurt.)
Ren frowned. That explained why the voice was so weak. But… still not enough.
He hesitated, then tapped:
.– …. .- - / …. .- .–. .–. . -. . -.. ..–..
(What happened?)
This time, the wait was longer. As if the other side had to struggle physically and mentally just to transmit a few characters.
.. / .– .- … / - .- -.- . -. / -… -.– / .. .-. — -. …
(I was taken by Irons.)
Ren exhaled slowly. The Iron Spiders.
They didn't just capture prey to eat.
They kept some.
He could guess that, the empty corpses torn open from inside…
Ren tapped again:
.- .-. . / -.– — ..- / .- .-.. — -. . ..–..
(Are you alone?)
A pause.
Then…
-.– . … / - …. . -. / -.– — ..- / -.-. .- – . / - — — ..
(Yes. Then you came too.)
Ren didn't respond.
Part of him wanted to believe.
Another part still smelled deception lurking somewhere.
He changed tactics, tapping:
–. .. …- . / – . / .- / … . -. - . -. -.-. . ..–..
(Give me a sentence?)
A sudden question. A simple test: if the other was a true Sleeper, he would remember how to transmit long Morse code. If it was a monster copying… they usually mimic short patterns.
And Ren knew… this was a gamble.
If that thing was a cunning demon, smart enough to imitate language, understand Morse code, and build such a complete sentence…
…then it wouldn't have left him alone until now.
Creatures like that didn't waste time chatting. They acted. They hunted.
Those who could imitate human speech… were strong.
And conversely, the strong… didn't need to pretend.
Only the weak, or the real person, tried to communicate with desperate taps through this spider silk layer.
Ren kept silent.
A long time passed without reply.
He almost thought the other had given up.
Then…
. .-.. … / -.-. — -. … - .- -. - .-.. -.– / .. … / .- / .-.. .. –. …. - / .. -. / - …. . / -.. .- .-. -.- -. . … … .-.-.
(Els constantly is a light in the darkness.)
Ren slightly raised his eyebrows.
The answer sounded… human.
Not because of the content, but because of the rhythm, structure, word choice.
It had weight. Personality. Not like a machine repeating phrases learned from corpses.
'Els…?'
That name was unfamiliar. Maybe a relative, maybe a symbol. But he felt no sign of fakery.
And if this was a trap…
…then at least it was a trap crafted from the memory of a real human being.
Not absolute proof.
But the closest thing Ren could believe.
A little.
Just a little.
Ren exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, as if wanting to drown the screaming thoughts in his head.
If this is a trap, then what?
What if not?
A dry laugh surged in his throat. He didn't make a sound, but bitterness filled his mouth as if he had swallowed a curse.
Then he was just a fool sticking his head into the tiger's mouth.
But at least… he chose it himself. Not some rotten garbage waiting to decay in this stinky cocoon.
Ren raised his hand, his finger trembling slightly as it touched the slimy silk wrapping him like a soft coffin.
Cold. Damp. Slimy.
But not as hard as he thought.
He scratched lightly with his nail, layer by layer, avoiding noise.
No light. Only the feeling from his fingertip, and the pounding of his own heartbeat echoing in his skull like a death drum.
Inches by inches… then a slit opened.
Outside air rushed in, foul, salty, smelling of dried blood and rotten silk.
The breath of nightmares, but to Ren, it was the smell of freedom.
He closed his eyes.
One. Two. Three.
He stretched out of the cocoon like a creature just born from his own corpse.
The air was icy cold, like a blade slicing his face.
The first thing Ren sensed was silence.
A deadly silence.
No footsteps. No tapping. No screams.
But… somewhere, very faintly, something stirred.
Dragging. Scratching. Like another being also crawling out of their own hell.
Ren crawled close to the thick silk layer below, thin dust, damp and moldy, stuck like dried blood.
The makeshift chitin armor on his body cracked into small pieces, exposing bare skin swollen from sweat, salt, and dried blood.
The smell of rot, rotten eggs, and living silk rose pungently.
But Ren was still alive.
And for the first time in a long time, he was no longer imprisoned.
'It's dark.'
Ren's vision was almost zero. No light, no direction, only a thick darkness almost tangible.
Every move he made was like cutting through a layer of thick, sticky black fog.
Waves of stench rose from the silk layer below, a mixture of rotten eggs, decayed corpses, and dried blood, like a warning that this place was not for any living creature.
He crawled out of the cocoon. Slowly. Carefully. Every movement calculated to avoid sound.
Cold sweat ran down his spine, though his body was cold as stone.
And then…
A face.
Suddenly appeared right in front of him, only a few inches away.
Ren jumped, muscles tensed reflexively. His hand was ready to pull out a sharp bone shard hidden in the makeshift armor.
That face… pale, gaunt. Eyes wide with fear. Hair stuck with sweat and spider dust. Lips trembling, as if just crawling out of hell.
"Quick… follow me…," The voice was small, hoarse, dry like desert wind. "They're coming… the spiders… they're coming…"
It was Stephen.
Ren froze, eyes narrowed. Heart pounding. That face, that name, faint in his memory.
The academy. Those fleeting encounters, always seen alongside Caster.
A living person. A student. A Sleeper… Not a monster.
…But was that really true?
Ren said nothing. Just stared at him, his gaze as if peeling away layers of skin to find the hidden truth beneath.
Stephen staggered, hands trembling as he grabbed the nearby silk edge, trying not to fall.
He repeated, whispering: "Some are already dead… but… something else is coming. I hear them… bigger… heavier… smarter."
Ren quietly turned his head. Ears strained. Silence.
…There was a sound. Distant, but clear.
"Crack…"
Like bones breaking. Or silk tearing. Or armor shell being crushed.
Damn it.
Ren crawled closer. Kept his voice low to nearly inaudible:
"How big… are they?"
Stephen shook his head repeatedly. His eyes panicked, frozen in a recurring nightmare.
"Can't see… only hear footsteps… not like normal spiders… not like at all…"
A shiver ran down Ren's spine. Not from fear, but instinct.
Survival instinct told him:
If he stayed… he would die.
He looked down at his body. The makeshift chitin armor was chipped. Dried blood crusted around the tears. Nothing left to cover him except a thin armor piece and the will to survive.
Ren sighed, closed his eyes for a beat.
Then nodded.
"Go. But no noise. Even a heavy breath could kill us both."
Stephen nodded weakly, almost collapsing from exhaustion, but still tried to follow.
The two began moving, not running, but crawling, sliding over the thick silk webbing beneath.
Around them was a forest of cocoons. Hanging, swaying slowly like corpses on nooses.
The space was like a living graveyard, where every cocoon could be a tomb for another unlucky soul.
In the distance, footsteps echoed. Not soft. Heavy. Each step made the silk web tremble.
There was more than one.
Ren gritted his teeth. His hand lightly touched the sharp bone shard tucked at his waist.
Not to fight.
But to, if needed… die on his own terms.