Counting one pair of eyes per spider, there were at least several hundred densely packed before him.
After failing to find anything, the spiders crawled back into the cave, and it returned to silence.
By morning, as the blazing sun rose and poured down golden light, the cave, nearly ten meters wide the night before, had vanished without a trace, replaced by solid ground.
Stepping on it felt no different from ordinary soil. Hastur jumped a couple of times, but nothing changed.
He picked up a piece of broken stone and dug a few times, making a half-meter-deep pit. Beneath it was still just soil, no sign of any cave.
Hastur felt fortunate he hadn't left immediately last night but had stayed to watch. As expected, he had witnessed something unusual.
He had wondered how such a large cave on a mountaintop could go unnoticed.
It turned out this cave was like an owl, active at night, hidden by day.
"Bit tricky to deal with."
Hastur decided to leave. At night, he would switch to the Star Vessel to investigate further. For now, it was better to keep his distance, lest that human-faced spider come looking for him.
...
In the town, at Old Jeff's house.
Early in the morning, someone from the mayor's household returned the 50 gold pounds he had paid for the quota, subtly hinting that this year's Harvest Festival ritual might undergo changes.
This immediately left him full of worry, regretting his greed. If he had known, he wouldn't have let his daughter get involved. Now she had fallen into this mess and couldn't wash herself clean.
That morning, before the mayor's people came to return the money, his daughter had secretly told him about a strange dream she had the night before.
In the dream, she was like a transparent wandering soul, her whole body stiff and unable to move. She could only watch as her own body moved on its own, speaking words she herself hadn't intended to say.
During it, a young man with a blurred appearance appeared and spoke with her about matters concerning the Goddess of Spring, though she couldn't remember the details.
Old Jeff had originally comforted her, saying it was just a dream, probably from thinking too much nonsense during the day. He had even teased her, saying that at such a young age, she was already thinking about men.
But the visit from the mayor's people made it clear, the Harvest Festival had gone wrong, and his daughter, as this year's priestess, would be implicated as well.
Should he quickly find someone suitable to marry his daughter off to?
Preferably an outsider, the farther away the better. After a few years, he could go and bring her back.
This, in Old Jeff's mind, was the best solution.
But where could he find a suitable outsider right now?
Old Jeff was troubled. His already wrinkled face now looked like it had been plowed by an ox cart, carved with deep furrows.
He went to the tavern and ordered a large mug of ginger beer for 2 pence.
It was only a little past nine, yet the tavern was already gathering a crowd. Someone saw Old Jeff and greeted him with a smile. Seeing his worried expression, the man joked, "Old Jeff, did your daughter ignore your objections and insist on running off with a handsome outsider?"
An outsider? Hearing the keyword, Old Jeff suddenly raised his head, his voice rising. "What outsider?"
"Yesterday, an outsider came asking about all sorts of things, even about your family. I thought he'd already gone to propose and got chased out by you with a broom, haha…"
The surrounding people burst into laughter. Old Jeff took a sip of ginger beer and said calmly, "An outsider isn't bad. At least they're generous, not like people here, who can't save up even 100 gold pounds in a lifetime."
"Then go to Old Peter's inn and find your outsider son-in-law. If you're late, someone else's daughter might snatch him away."
Some joked that he must be desperate to become a grandfather, rushing to marry off his daughter.
Hah, what did they know? A bunch of pitiful people who had never even left this town.
Old Jeff licked the last bit of ginger beer, lined up two pence coins on the table with a slap, lifted his chin slightly, and left.
After he left, another round of cheerful laughter filled the tavern.
Old Peter's Inn was the best lodging in town, a favorite spot for wealthy outsiders.
Though he hadn't yet met the outsider, Old Jeff already felt somewhat reassured. He went to the inn's first floor and exchanged a look with Old Peter. The two moved behind the kitchen and spoke briefly.
Old Jeff paid a consultation fee of 1 soli, then hummed a tune as he went upstairs to the outsider's room.
He didn't knock immediately. First, he straightened his somewhat worn brown coat and adjusted his soft brown hat.
In this agriculture-based town, his outfit was already considered wealthy. But he had just heard from Old Peter that this outsider was not only young and handsome but dressed in clothes worth at least dozens of gold pounds.
His own daughter was also good-looking and this year's priestess, by all accounts, she was a decent match.
After bolstering his courage, Old Jeff finally knocked on the door.
After a while, the door opened.
The moment he saw the outsider, Old Jeff felt that the 1 soli consultation fee had been entirely worth it.
Even setting aside his above-average appearance and physique, just his clothing alone made it clear he came from a big city.
Old Jeff was very satisfied with the outsider, but at the same time, he felt even less confident.
"Is something the matter?"
The gentle tone snapped Old Jeff back to his senses. Rubbing his hands, he forced a smile and said awkwardly, "Sir, I heard you're looking for a suitable girl to marry?"
"??" Hastur looked puzzled, but quickly composed himself, still wearing a warm smile. "You misunderstand. I'm just interested in the local customs. I have no plans to marry."
I knew it, how could someone like him come to a place like this looking for a bride?
Old Jeff's expression changed slightly, and he began to regret that 1 soli consultation fee again.
"My mistake, my mistake…" He apologized repeatedly with an ingratiating smile. Only after the door closed did he leave, sighing deeply.
Inside the room, Hastur stood by the window. Thinking about Old Jeff's intentions, he couldn't help but shake his head with a laugh.
He could more or less guess what Old Jeff was thinking, likely someone from the mayor's side had approached him, prompting him to hurry and marry off his daughter to an outsider. But for some reason, he had ended up here.
Could it be because he entered the girl's dream last night and left behind some kind of hint?
She said they would meet again… a bit strange.
...
At night, the crimson moon hung high, casting a deeper red glow than the previous night.
Across the flat farmland, no farmers could be seen, only a few scattered lights flickering.
These belonged to the field watchers who stayed overnight near the crops.
Most of the time, they guarded against people; sometimes, against animals that stole crops, wild boars, civets, field mice, and the like.
A musket was standard equipment. Some watchers preferred carrying a steel fork to patrol and drive off animals. If the situation allowed, they could even spear civets under the moonlight, adding a touch of wild game to the quiet night.
Bas was a professional field watcher, eighteen years old this year. During the day, he worked for his employer; at night, he stayed near the fields, earning two wages.
He earned 10 pence a day and 4 pence at night, totaling just over 8 soli per week, slightly higher than some factory workers in the city.
Hard work, yes, but the pay was good.
If his employer had allowed it, he would have taken on the neighboring fields too, patrolling for another employer and earning an extra 2 soli per week.
Looking at the vast stretch of lush, thriving crops before him, his heart was full of envy.
His greatest wish was to own a piece of land. Then he could plant whatever he liked, eat what he wanted, and sell the surplus at the market.
Thinking of this bright future filled him with renewed energy. With a musket slung over his back and a steel fork in hand, he quickly hurled it and struck a civet stealing watermelons.
An unexpected gain, wealthy townsfolk would pay 5 pence for a whole one.
As he happily approached, he saw that the civet, once round-bellied from eating melons, was rapidly shriveling. Its entire body shrank quickly, leaving behind only a thin layer of skin and a pair of fear-filled eyes.
Bas thought he was mistaken and rubbed his eyes hard. Then he picked up his steel fork again to take a closer look.
He wasn't mistaken, the civet, once the size of a head, was now nothing but skin.
That skin twitched slightly, as if something was moving underneath.
Summoning his courage, Bas used the fork's prongs to lift the skin, and saw countless tiny spiders crawling out from the soil, climbing up along the fork.
Terrified, he immediately threw the fork away and stumbled backward several steps.
By accident, he fell onto a patch of tomato seedlings, his hands bracing against the soil as he stared in horror at the swarm of spiders emerging endlessly from the ground.
Suddenly, he felt an itch on his palms. Under the moonlight, he looked down and saw small spiders crawling onto his hands from the soil.
He quickly stood up, frantically brushing and rubbing them off.
Standing upright, he glanced into the distance and realized that under the crimson moonlight, endless numbers of tiny spiders were pouring out across the fields. Some were already spinning white silk, wrapping around the roots, stems, and leaves of every crop.
His scalp tingled with fear. He didn't dare stay another second and hurriedly ran toward his hut.
Along the way, more spiders kept emerging from the ground. He had no idea how many he had crushed underfoot, and over a dozen still clung to his body.
Fortunately, his hut was nearby. Once inside, he quickly shut the doors and windows, then began clearing the soybean-sized spiders off himself.
After shaking them off his clothes and crushing them, he finally let out a breath of relief. He gulped down several mouthfuls of cold water, his fear easing slightly.
But before he could feel safe, more spiders began squeezing in through every crack of the hut.
From the roof, from the corners, from the door, under the dim lantern light, they surged toward him in waves.
There wasn't a single corner left in the room to hide.
Everywhere… was spiders.