The Spider Monster and the Butterfly Monster

“Sister, Sister! (Insectoid language)”

Xiningna darted through the forest with incredible speed, venturing deep into an area untouched by humans.

The terrain had long since become unwelcoming to human movement. The ground was soft and swampy, swallowing any foot that dared step on it.

But Xiningna moved with ease, as if she belonged here. She skimmed across the surface, lightly touching the mud with her feet, and leaped gracefully between ancient trees, like a creature returning home.

Eventually, she came to a stop. Supporting herself on a few slender insect legs that protruded from her body, she began removing her clothes.

Carefully folding the old but meticulously cleaned garments, she revealed her true form.

Her slender, furry insectoid body was adorned with translucent, colorful wings on her back, which vibrated rapidly, emitting a soft hum.

Without the cover of clothing, her original features became fully visible—a humanoid butterfly of immense size.

Suddenly, branches rustled, and the sound of jointed legs scraping across the ground filled the air. A massive, furry spider emerged—a creature as horrifying as the villagers had described.

“So, why are you here?”

The spider monster’s voice, also in the insectoid language, carried a note of curiosity as it eyed the butterfly-like Xiningna.

“Sister, some powerful adventurers are coming to hunt you. You should hide. They likely won’t stay long, and once they leave...”

Before she could finish, the spider monster interrupted her with a derisive laugh.

“What’s so special about that? Haven’t adventurers come before?”

The spider monster began circling Xiningna, its eight black eyes fixated on her shrinking form. Its presence was suffocatingly menacing.

“Xiningna, have you been spending so much time with humans that your brain’s gone soft? Not only do you refuse to eat them, but now you think they can actually harm me?”

“...”

Compared to the massive spider monster, Xiningna’s form was delicate and fragile. She looked like a helpless prey caught in its web, cowering under its oppressive aura.

“No, listen to me, Sister! This time is different! They set out to deal with the green-skins yesterday morning and came back by the afternoon, completely unscathed...”

Hearing this, the spider monster paused, its circling halted. Eight small, glossy eyes reflected a thoughtful expression.

“Are you sure they wiped out the entire group of green-skins?”

This question left Xiningna momentarily speechless. She hadn’t witnessed the battle herself, and the adventurers hadn’t brought back any proof.

“Well… I can’t say for sure, but it seems likely!”

The cautious glint in the spider monster’s eyes disappeared, replaced by mockery.

“Hah, I told you, how could humans possibly do such a thing? Humans are liars by nature, always exaggerating their abilities. You’ve been fooled!”

“I’ve lived for over seventy years and faced the strongest humans—they could barely last a few rounds against me. That’s their limit.”

“You’re young and naive, running off to live among humans like some lower creature, brainwashed into believing their nonsense…”

The spider monster grew increasingly agitated, and finally, it lashed out. A powerful leg struck Xiningna, sending her flying.

“No, Sister… there are strong adventurers in the stories! You just haven’t encountered them yet...”

Xiningna struggled to get back up. Despite the attack, she continued to plead with her sister.

Had she ever seen a truly powerful adventurer? No. But she had heard countless tales, and the adventurers she met recently only reinforced her belief.

Sometimes, it wasn’t about certainty but caution—what if the stories were true?

But Xiningna’s well-meaning warnings fell on deaf ears. To the spider monster, their ideologies were too different to reconcile.

For a moment, the spider monster hesitated, guilt flashing across its many eyes. It regretted acting impulsively, but its pride wouldn’t let it apologize. Instead, it stood still, silently fuming.

However, when Xiningna stood up and spoke again, that fleeting guilt evaporated.

Her words were a challenge to its authority—a personal insult.

The grinding of its mandibles echoed ominously through the forest. This was the sound the spider monster made when it was truly enraged.

It began advancing toward Xiningna, and for the first time, she felt genuine murderous intent from her sister.

If she spoke again, her sister would kill her. She had no doubt.

“You’ve done well, Xiningna.”

The words were cold and dripping with venom. Xiningna lowered her head, unable to meet the spider monster’s gaze.

“You’re the first insectoid I’ve ever seen who disguises themselves as a human not to hunt, but to live among them like an idiot.”

“You even marked one of them and begged me not to hurt him.”

“Pathetic. Disgusting.”

“Look at yourself—how weak you’ve become.”

The spider monster stopped just in front of Xiningna, towering over her with disdain in its eyes.

“Leave. I can’t stand the sight of you anymore.”

With that, the spider monster turned to leave, its back a wall of furry menace.

Xiningna stood frozen, unsure what to do. Her sister was stubborn and unyielding; convincing her would be impossible.

But she couldn’t just let things be. She needed another way to stop her sister.

As the two were about to part bitterly, a voice cut through the tension.

“Oh, so you came here to warn her, huh?”

A figure stepped forward, calm and composed. She appeared to be a human girl of about fourteen or fifteen, with a delicate, harmless appearance.

But both Xiningna and the spider monster felt a suffocating pressure radiate from her.

This wasn’t a weak girl—this wasn’t even human.

The presence was impossible to ignore. Xiningna immediately recognized her: the petite, black-haired girl who had been with the adventurers.

Her name was Aino.

But the Aino standing before them now was entirely different. She no longer masked her inhuman nature. Chaotic and violent magic spilled from her small frame, overwhelming the atmosphere.

She’s like me… a monster in human form.

Earlier, Xiningna’s sister had scoffed at the idea of powerful adventurers, dismissing them as a myth.

But now, that claim was clearly false. This adventurer was something beyond any tale or rumor.

Not even a contest. Together, Xiningna and her sister wouldn’t last a single round against her.

For the first time, Xiningna saw her cold, merciless sister cowering, her legs folding beneath her as she shrank back, unable to muster the will to resist.

Xiningna let out a bitter laugh but refused to abandon her last shred of hope.

“Lady Aino…”