What Lurks in Reiner

The wind dulled the moment they stepped deeper into Reiner.
What little sound remained outside faded behind the first line of crumbling walls, replaced by a stillness that pressed against their ears — thick, unnatural, as if the air itself refused to move. 

Buildings leaned like tired sentinels — stone cracked, beams warped under the weight of dust and time. The narrow streets were buried halfway in windblown soil, the outlines of once-paved roads just barely visible beneath their boots. Every footprint they left behind was quickly swallowed by the dust that drifted down from above.

Kai walked ahead, his steps careful but steady. Every so often he’d pause, scanning the empty doorways that lined the road. Behind him, Rose adjusted her cloth and glanced toward the rooftops, her senses stretched thin.

“This place feels wrong,” she murmured, almost to herself.

“It’s been dead for years,” Kai said quietly. “Would be strange if it didn’t.”

She didn’t answer. Her thoughts lingered on the large cocoon they’d passed earlier, the shape of it still fresh in her mind. Whatever made that thing wasn’t small — and the torn edges suggested it had already left.

The deeper they went, the less the wind touched them. It should have been a relief, but the calm carried something heavier. Every step echoed faintly — the kind of sound that didn’t fade fast enough.

By the time they reached a main intersection, the light had almost vanished. The sky above burned in muted orange before giving way to gray. The air here was thick — a stagnant mix of dust, decay, and faint sweetness that made Rose’s stomach tighten.

Kai stopped at the center, scanning both directions. “We’re running out of time,” he said. “It’ll be completely dark soon.”

Rose closed her eyes, focusing her awareness as far as she could. Faint traces of mana ran in abundance to their right — remnants of life - and then, a mana signature much bigger than the rest. When her vision flickered open again, her tone was low. “Let's go left.”

Kai turned to her. “Left? Why left?”

Rose paused, with a low voice she responded. "Because I want to avoid whatever is lurking on the right." She didn’t wait for a response. Her boots turned left ahead of him. 

Kai hesitated only a second before following. “You could’ve led with that.”

They walked along the dusted path inwards, passing torn buildings one after the other. The air grew colder the deeper they went. Small webs clung to doorframes and windows — thin, scattered, harmless at a glance, but far too many to be natural.

A hanging sign hung from a building ahead. It teetered as if it was waving them safety from the distance. 

Rose pointed toward it. "That one still has a roof."

Kai exhaled through his nose, fogging the air. “That’ll have to do.”

They moved toward the large structure ahead — its walls mostly intact, its shadow long against the dying light. Their steps halted at the door's base. The frame buried in a thick mesh of silk. The strands shimmered faintly like glass threads under the dying sky light.

Kai hesitated. “Guess this is it.” His gaze drifted upward to the sign that hung over them. A half-faded emblem visible beneath webs that had coated it.
"Looks like it used to be a shop." 

Rose’s tone hardened. “Doesn't matter what it was. Step back.”

Kai obeyed without argument, retreating behind her. His hands rested on the straps of their bags.

A low hum filled the air as Roses hands gestured toward the door. Mana coiled faintly around her fingers. Within seconds, the webbing twitched, then shriveled. They tore and curled inward, disintegrating into fine silver dust that drifted through the air like falling snow.

Her hands moved again, and the door creaked once, then surrendered.

A stale draft rolled out — heavy, wet with the scent of rot. Both lifted their scarves instinctively.

They paused at the doorway, examining the buildings interior. The faint light revealed walls patterned in white. Webs stretched in every direction, covering every corner like sheets of fabric. 

They stepped through. Inside, dust floated through the air, catching the weak beam that pushed through a single window. Strands of webs covered most of it, so thin they were nearly invisible until the faint breeze slipped in, alive for a moment before falling still again. 

The walls bore claw marks, shallow but deliberate, as though something had brushed past them too many times to count.

Kai's hands glowed orange. "I'll clean out a spot for us—" 

Rose lifted an arm, blocking his path. "I want to try something."

Kai paused, then stepped aside. The glow in his hands fading once more. 

Rose raised an arm toward the room. Threads of light weaved around her fingers, mana of gold and white intertwining like a dance to the music of the faint wind behind.

Her eyes focused, and the strands began come together in a fusion.

What's next widened Kai's eyes.

Flame.

The glow snaked around her hand, and with a sharp motion, she cracked it through the air. Fire carved clean lines through the webbing, burning without smoke, leaving black trails that glimmered briefly before fading.

Kai watched it all unfold. The light each attack sparked flickered in the space. And when there was no longer anything left to cut through, Rose reeled it back in, as if she had created a lasso of mana.

"Isn't elemental manipulation rare?" Kai asked quietly, still watching her hand.

Rose handed him a broken plank from a collapsed shelf. “I am an A-Rank after all.” A hint of smugness threaded through her tone.

Kai blinked, then grinned faintly and started stacking broken furniture into a small pile at the center. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Rose gave no reply, but the corner of her mouth twitched as she summoned a smaller flame, igniting the wood. Its light flickered weakly, reflecting against the layered dust that hung in the air.

Kai sank down beside it, rubbing his palms together. “It feels good to stop moving.”

Rose closed the door behind them with a low thud and lowered herself next to him. “Don’t relax yet. Anything can happen.”

For a while, neither spoke. The fire crackled softly, filling the silence between breaths. Outside, the wind moaned whistling through the cracks in the window and then stilled again.

Kai tilted his head back, eyes tracing the faint lines above. “You ever think about what it was like… before this?”

Rose glanced at him. “Before what?”

“Before everything rotted. Before the Wild Zones spread.”

She hesitated. “Sometimes.”

He nodded, letting the firelight flicker across his eyes. “I’d like to see that world once. Just once.”

Rose’s gaze softened, but her answer was quiet — almost lost to the wind. “Me too.”

__________

Time slipped by unnoticed. The fire between them burned low, reduced to a thin line of red embers that pulsed faintly in the dark. Neither of them had managed to rest. The stillness outside was too deep, too deliberate — the kind that made even breathing feel loud.

Kai sat cross-legged, palms flat on his knees, listening. He let every creak of wood and sigh of wind fold into his focus. Across from him, Rose’s gaze stretched outward, following faint ripples of mana that threaded the ruins beyond their walls. Nothing moved. But nothing staying still this long felt wrong.

Hours passed. The moon rose high above the broken skyline, its pale light nudging through the web-coated window. The ember glow painted both their faces in shifting orange. Finally, Kai spoke, quiet as the ash between them.

“Let's take turns. An hour each. I’ll go first.”

Rose gave a slow nod. “Fine. Don’t drift too deep.”

He offered a half-smile that did not reach his eyes and closed them, breathing measured and shallow. Rose remained alert, never loosening the thread of awareness that reached into the night.

Then she froze. The thread she’d been following — the one far beyond the wall — pulsed. Then another. Then dozens. Small signatures bloomed and multiplied until the pattern looked like sparks scattering across a dark field.

“Kai,” she breathed.

He snapped awake in an instant. “What is it?”

“The mana signatures. From the far side of town.” Her voice was a blade of calm.

He straightened himself, muscles coiling. “What about them?”

“They’re coming this way.”

A new sound threaded the air: tapping, then tapping multiplied. Legs. Tiny thuds that merged with the wind until it was impossible to separate them. The rhythm grew, circling, patient and precise. Then a pause that felt like the breath before an attack.

Kai pushed to his feet. His hands glowed a faint orange as mana hardened around his knuckles. His scars pulsed an orange hue. He spread his stance, every muscle ready.

Rose stood and mirrored him, gold light wrapping her palms. She had already folded the room’s faint currents into a shield, invisible and waiting.

For a long heartbeat nothing moved. Then the wall shivered. Once. Twice.

The wall began to melt, door and all. Not burning, but dissolving as if eaten by acid. Wood and stone sagged and folded, blackened sludge pouring inward. The smell of chemical rot filled the air as the frame collapsed, widening the breach.

Cold wind slammed through, snuffing the last ember. The front of the shop gave way, collapsing outward in a rush of dust and splintered wood.

Rose and Kai stood frozen.

Outside, dozens of spiders covered the street — the same kind they’d fought before entering the town. Their slick bodies shifting faintly under the moonlight. None moved toward them, yet every one of their eyes was fixed on the doorway. The air itself felt charged, as if the creatures waited for a single command.

Then the ground trembled.

From behind the smaller swarm, something vast moved — its shadow crawling across the ruins. The creature emerged into view, towering higher than a house, its body a glistening mass of black and orange chitin. It turned slowly, its abdomen twisting with it, until its many eyes came into view. They glowed faintly, like molten gemstones, reflecting off the broken stone around them.

The spiders below shifted, legs twitching, tension rippling through the group like a silent signal.

Dinner.

Kai’s muscles tightened. He let out a breath — half laugh, half grit.
“This does not look good.”