22 Spider Silk Experiment

Dungeon exploration proceeded smoothly.

Too smoothly—laughter nearly burst forth.

This area appears to be the territory of spiders. Spiders are everywhere.

Each spider provides a significant amount of experience points.

They seem slow to react. Unable to respond to my ambush, they fall easily.

Taking them from behind or above nearly guarantees victory.

As a result, they are defeated with minimal effort.

After defeating several spiders, my level increased to seven.

Unfortunately, no skill level-up occurred from the bonus, but thanks to consuming spiders, Paralysis Resistance increased to skill level two.

Experience points accumulate easily, and a useful skill—Paralysis Resistance—has also advanced.

A highly effective hunting ground.

Of course, I did not merely rest on ease.

Adjusted attack variations to align with the objective of gaining practical combat experience.

One weakness of my thread ability is that it can only be deployed from the rear.

Therefore, whenever projecting threads, I must position my back toward the target.

Posture required: either standing on hind legs with rear exposed, or fully facing away.

Such positioning creates excessive vulnerability. Thus, my preferred methods were either applying threads while maintaining close contact, or launching aerial thread barrages via jump.

Both methods carry significant risk.

Given the nature of the thread ability, success almost guarantees victory.

Failure, however, results in substantial recoil.

Close contact increases difficulty in evading counterattacks.

Jumping into the air introduces risk of being shot down, similar to the fate I once inflicted on my siblings.

Not quite high risk, high reward—more like a different kind of calculation.

Anyway, that’s why I developed this: a safer way to secure the thread against the opponent.

Introducing the new weapon: portable net!

It’s simply a small net, held in the front limbs.

The advantage? Near-total elimination of openings.

Just charge forward while holding it—no need for awkward stances.

Compared to the previous strain of shooting thread from an unstable posture, this is significantly easier.

The drawback? The front limbs are occupied while the net is on standby.

But I have six more limbs, so it’s only a minor inconvenience.

Other than that, the net must be prepared in advance.

But if I choose to make one, well—considering I already claim professional status as a net-weaver—it takes only an instant.

A perfect weapon: low risk, high reward. Completed here.

Tried several other methods, but all ended in failure.

As the one initiating ambushes, I needed a safety measure to avoid being ambushed in turn.

Thus, I attempted to develop the detection thread, something I had been considering for some time.

This involves dispersing threads so fine they are invisible to the eye, directly into the air from the rear, using the threads’ captured data to detect enemy approach.

When I lived at home, I had spread these threads throughout the residence, but the difference between spreading them and letting them drift proved unexpectedly difficult.

Left unattended, the threads would tangle with one another or snag on walls—constant trouble.

And knowing every such detail constantly proved distracting beyond measure.

Yet if I tried to avoid distraction, my focus would become entirely absorbed by the threads, causing me to neglect the surroundings entirely—precisely the opposite of the intended result.

At this point, I abandoned practical use of the detection threads.

Next, I considered whether I could improve my weak defensive capabilities slightly by attempting to create a protective garment from the threads.

Well, to be honest, that also failed.

I could manage to construct the garment, but putting it on proved extremely difficult.

After all, I am a spider.

I lack the dexterous hands of a human, and my body’s structure is too complex. No matter how hard I tried, I could not wear the garment.

Then, could I simply wrap the threads around my body?

Rejected.

I could wrap the threads around myself, but doing so unevenly would restrict my movement.

I could not afford to sacrifice one of my key advantages—speed—over such a reason.

Thus, I had to wrap it precisely, but for the same reason as before, I could not manage a satisfactory application.

Moreover, even if I succeeded in wearing it, it would serve no purpose if I could not remove it.

After all, my body changed shape constantly with each meal.

If I expanded into a perfect sphere while wearing clothes, merely being uncomfortable would be the best-case scenario.

If I had assistance, there might have been other methods—but my legs, structurally, could not reach my back.

That option was abandoned as well.

Hmm.

Considering this, the spider body has its trade-offs.

I excel at jumping, leaping, and clinging—but lacking hands remains a critical limitation.

Human hands really are convenient, I thought, with quiet appreciation.

Incidentally, despite all these experiments, the skill level of spider silk remained unchanged.

Skill level likely increases with higher required proficiency, I thought.

Part of the reason, admittedly, is that unlike when holed up at my safehouse, I'm now minimizing unnecessary thread output.

Outside the safehouse, unpredictability is constant. I wanted to maintain optimal readiness at all times.

This experiment, which allowed extensive thread use after a long interval, was possible due to the availability of Geki as bait.

The experiment contained significant waste, yet yielded measurable results.

I will continue experimenting when opportunities arise.