Azmoz knelt on the cold, hard floor of the library, his shadow stretching long and distorted across the stacks. The ventilation grate in front of him was caked with years of undisturbed grime and thick, sticky cobwebs that seemed to shudder with every breath he took. His heart was still racing from the discovery of the first spider, and that strange, electric buzz in his right arm hadn't fully faded. He reached out with trembling fingers, gripping the edge of the metal slats. He pulled at the grate, the screws groaning as they resisted before finally giving way with a sharp, metallic snap.
He leaned forward, squinting into the dark, square tunnel of the ventilation duct. He clicked on his flashlight, the beam cutting through the gloom to reveal a nightmare of silk and movement. There were dozens of them. Spiders of all sizes were scuttling along the metal walls of the duct, their many eyes reflecting the light like tiny, scattered diamonds. Azmoz held his breath, waiting for the surge of power he had felt just moments before. He waited for the tattoo on his arm to burn or for the purple book to scream for attention.
But nothing happened. The buzz in his arm remained steady, a dull hum that didn't intensify no matter how many spiders he stared at. He waited for a minute, then two, his knees beginning to ache against the linoleum. The spiders continued their silent, leggy dances, indifferent to his presence. There was no new notification, no rush of experience points, and no shimmer of violet light.
"Is it possible that finding the same insect again won't give me anything?" Azmoz thought to himself, his shoulders slumping with a sudden, heavy wave of disappointment. The high he had felt from leveling up was beginning to crash, replaced by the familiar weight of his own insignificance. He had thought he found a shortcut, a way to farm power just by looking at the things most people stepped on. If the book only cared about new species, his progress was going to be much slower than he had hoped. He felt like a fool, a boy playing with bugs in the dark while the rest of the world ignored him.
Saddened by the realization, he reached for the metal grate to put it back into place. He didn't want the librarian or the morning shift to notice the tampering. As he moved his hand toward the opening, his index finger brushed against the rough, dusty surface of the duct's inner lip. He felt something small and hairy scuttle across his knuckle. Instinctively, he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed his finger down, trapping a medium-sized spider against the metal.
A blur hit him. It wasn't a physical blow, but a sudden, violent intrusion into his mind. It was a vision, a sensation, a flash of something ancient and predatory. A single thought, sharp and cold as a needle, pierced through the chaos of his mind, focusing entirely on a hidden instinct he hadn't known he possessed:
At that exact moment, he felt it. It was like a spiritual tug-of-war. On one side was his own consciousness, bolstered by the dark energy of the purple book, and on the other was the tiny, frantic will of the spider. He could feel the creature fighting back, its primal survival instinct lashing out against the invisible chains he was wrapping around it. It was a strange, microscopic battle of wills. For a few seconds, the resistance was fierce, a buzzing static that made his teeth ache and his vision blur with static.
Then, the resistance snapped. The spider's tiny mind went quiet, and in its place, Azmoz felt a sudden, cooling sensation. A bond of absolute servitude had been forged. It was no longer just a bug; it was a part of him. A huge, vibrating buzz erupted from the tattoo on his arm, more intense than anything he had felt yet. He wasted no time. He didn't care if someone heard him; he needed to see the change.
"OPEN!" he hissed.
The purple book manifested with a violent swirl of energy, the pages flipping so fast they sounded like a deck of cards being shuffled by a giant. It bypassed the status pages and slammed open to the exact same page he had seen before—the one titled "Common Spider." But the text was changing, shifting, and rewriting itself right before his eyes.
The description remained the same, detailing the creature's origins on the planet Xylos and its role as the foundation of complex swarms. However, new notifications began to scroll across the bottom of the page in a pulsing, violet light that illuminated the dark corner of the library.
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He felt a thrill of discovery that made his skin prickle. He quickly flipped the page to his status screen, his fingers tracing the glowing letters.
A new understanding began to take root in his mind. So finding a new species gives me more exp than bonding with one, he realized. Finding the spider had given him ten points, but the act of forcing it into his service only provided five. It was a slower path, but it was a path nonetheless. He realized he could only hold ten creatures at his current level, and he already had one slot filled. He looked at the spider, which was now sitting perfectly still on his finger, its many eyes fixed on him with what he could only describe as a vacant, loyal stare.
He closed the book, watching it dissolve back into the ink on his skin. He felt a strange sense of ownership, a dominance he had never experienced in his life. At school, he was the one who was pushed; here, in the dark, he was the master. He looked at the spider and realized that while he could feel the bond, he didn't quite know how to talk to it yet. There were no words in his head, just a vague sense of the creature's presence.
He decided to experiment. He pointed his finger toward the dark corner of the bookshelf and visualized the spider moving there. Go, he thought, projecting the intent with as much focus as he could muster. To his delight, the spider didn't hesitate. It scuttled off his hand, its legs moving in a blur of precision, and raced toward the spot he had indicated. It stopped exactly where he had pointed, waiting for its next command.
Azmoz grinned, a rare, genuine expression that felt tight on his face. He spent the next few minutes testing the limits of this new control. He made the spider crawl in circles, jump from one shelf to another, and even stay perfectly still while he waved his hand over it. It followed every instruction to the point. It was faster and more responsive than any pet could ever be. It was an extension of his own body.
After a while, another thought struck him. "What if I try to bound another spider?" Will that also give me exp? he wondered. If he could just keep bonding the same type of insect, he could potentially level up without ever leaving the room. The prospect of such easy power made his pulse quicken.
He turned back to the ventilation duct, his eyes searching for the next target. He spotted another spider, slightly larger than the first, tucked into the corner of the metal duct. He reached in, his hand steady now. He didn't feel the fear he usually felt around creepy-crawlies. Now, he only saw them as fuel. As his finger touched the second spider, the same tug-of-war feeling returned. This time, he was ready for it. He pushed back with his mind, asserting his dominance with a ruthless efficiency that surprised even him. The struggle lasted only a second before the second spider went limp and then stood at attention, its will overwritten by his own.
Azmoz summoned the book again, his eyes darting to the stats page. He wanted to see that number climb. He wanted to feel that rush of leveling up again.
He stared at the display, but the numbers didn't move. The experience points remained at fifteen. He checked the notifications, but there was no new entry for the second bond. A cold realization washed over him, dousing his excitement like ice water. "So bonding the new member of the same species won't give me any exp", he thought bitterly. The book was smarter than he gave it credit for. It wouldn't let him cheat his way to godhood by just collecting a hundred identical house spiders. It demanded variety. It demanded that he actually go out into the world and find something new, something dangerous.
Azmoz let out a long, frustrated sigh, the sound echoing through the empty library. He looked at the two spiders now waiting for his command. He had two slots filled out of ten, and only fifteen percent of the way to his next level. The path ahead was suddenly much clearer, and much more difficult. He couldn't just stay in the library forever. If he wanted to evolve.