CHAPTER 59: THE CROWD ROARED

The city of Barovik lay silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed it hours earlier.

The air still carried the acrid smell of burnt stone and the distant echo of screams, now replaced by the hesitant murmurs of a people beginning to regain their freedom.

The Order of the Burning Eye, with its fanatical rule over the city, had been destroyed.

Malrik, the apostle fused with an ancestral spirit, lay defeated, his essence scattered like ashes in the wind.

Hagan, the supreme leader of the order, was on his knees, humiliated, spared by the mercy of Eren Vale—a punishment more cruel than death, for it condemned him to live as a symbol of his own irrelevance.

Eren, the tamer who had once been considered weak, was at the center of it all. He felt the weight of victory, a burden that was not only one of glory, but of choices.

Every decision — every bond forged with his monsters, every blow struck against the Order — had transformed him.

The system, that invisible force that ruled the world, recognized his achievements:

[Final Boss Defeated: Malrik].

[Hagan – Mercy applied].

[New Evolution Route Unlocked: Tamer of the Lost Order].

The words still echoed in his mind, engraved like runes on his soul, but their meaning remained a mystery.

He knew that the path ahead would be as dangerous as the one he had left behind.

Eren and his group had found temporary refuge in an abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Barovik.

The building was a relic of better times, with dusty hallways, broken stained glass windows that filtered moonlight in shades of sapphire and emerald, and an air of decay that seemed to whisper ancient secrets.

The walls creaked under the weight of history, and the wooden floor was marked by cracks that looked like the veins of a sleeping creature.

It was the kind of place that Morwynn, the magical spider, would consider perfect.

And she had already claimed a room for herself, transforming it into something that could only be described as a sanctuary of webs.

Eren could feel her presence, even from so far away, like an invisible thread pulling at his attention.

In the mansion’s main hall, the group gathered around an unlit fireplace, the only warmth coming from their own breath.

Kaela, the werewolf, sprawled in a broken armchair, her gray fur still stained with soot from the battle. Her eyes shone with a mixture of exhaustion and pride.

"We really did it, didn’t we?" she said, her voice hoarse but firm. "Malrik thought he was untouchable. And Hagan... that idiot must still be crying."

She laughed, a short, sharp sound, like the crack of a dry twig.

Nyssa, the shy slime, sat on the floor, the translucent contours of her body reflecting the dim light like a prism. She tried to cheer up the group, as she always did, but her voice trembled slightly.

"I... I think the city will be fine now, right? I mean, we helped, right? They’ll be grateful..."

She looked at Eren for confirmation, her large, liquid eyes full of hope.

Sylha, the eccentric ghost, floated above the group, spinning dramatically in the air as if on an invisible stage.

"Grateful? Ha! They should erect statues of us! Or better yet, an opera! ’The Ballad of Sylha, the Magnificent!’"

She threw her arms up in the air, her ethereal veil fluttering, and nearly knocked over a shelf of moldy books.

"Can you imagine? Me, at the center, while the world applauds my glory!"

Morwynn, as usual, kept to herself.

She leaned against a broken column, partially shrouded in shadows, her multifaceted eyes shining like jewels in the moonlight.

Her arachnid legs moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, weaving something in the air—a rune, perhaps, or just a pattern that only she understood.

She did not participate in the conversation, but her gaze was fixed on Eren, a gaze that required no words. It was an invitation, a promise, a challenge.

Eren felt something, something only Morwynn knew how to evoke.

"Sylha, if you knock over one more thing, I’ll exorcise you myself," Kaela muttered, without looking up.

Nyssa giggled nervously, while Sylha pretended to be offended, placing her hand on her chest like a betrayed lady.

Morwynn, however, remained silent, her arachnid fingers tracing invisible lines in the air.

Eren caught the movement, the rune glowing for an instant before dissolving like smoke. It was for him. It always was.

"I’ll take a look around the perimeter," Eren said, standing up.

His voice sounded firmer than he felt. Kaela raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Nyssa merely nodded, while Sylha let out an "Oh, how mysterious!" that he ignored. Morwynn did not move, but her eyes followed him, and Eren knew she had been expecting him.

He made his way through the dark corridors of the mansion, guided by an instinct he couldn’t explain. The webs began to appear, first as loose threads on the walls, then in more elaborate patterns, as if the air itself were being woven.

When he reached Morwynn’s bedroom door, he stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The air was cold, heavy with a faint scent of moss and metal, as if the night itself had condensed there. He opened the door and entered.

The room was a cathedral of webs.

Silver filaments crisscrossed the ceiling, forming arches and spirals that seemed to pulsate with a subtle magic. Unlit candles floated in the air, lit by runes that glowed in shades of purple and blue.

The floor was covered with a thin layer of web, soft as silk but firm enough to support his weight.

In the center, Morwynn stood, or rather, hovered, her arachnid legs moving in a slow, almost ritualistic dance.

She wove something invisible, her movements as precise as those of an artist before a canvas. The moonlight, filtered through the broken stained glass windows, made her webs shine like liquid silver.

"You brought victory, Eren," she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to come from every corner of the room. "But you carry the weight. The cracks in your soul... are more visible today."

She did not look at him, but each word was a thread that pulled him closer.

Eren took a step forward, feeling the web floor give slightly beneath his feet.

"What do you want to mend?" Eren asked.

She finally turned, her multifaceted eyes capturing the light in hypnotic prisms.

"Not mend," she whispered, drawing closer. Her movements were a dance, each step a choreography of grace and danger. "I want to weave something new. Something only the two of us can create."

One of her arachnid legs extended, touching Eren’s face with a delicacy that contrasted with her strength. The touch was cold, like wet silk, but it sent an unexpected warmth down his spine.

Eren did not flinch. He knew Morwynn—her sharp mind, her morbid aesthetic, her loyalty that came not from duty but from choice.

She was not a subordinate, never had been. She tried to be an equal, a partner in the chaotic dance that was his life.

"And what would that be?" he asked, leaning slightly toward her, his eyes fixed on hers.

Morwynn smiled, a smile that was both dangerous and beautiful, like a blade wrapped in velvet.

"Threads that bind," she murmured, moving closer until their faces were inches apart. "Seams of the soul. You are my favorite mistake, Eren. Let’s paint chaos together."

The webs around them vibrated, as if responding to the energy growing between them. The air seemed denser, charged with the promise of something greater.

Eren felt the bond between them pulse, an exchange of power and emotion that went beyond the system. He placed his hand on her face, feeling the cool texture of her arachnid skin, and pulled her toward him.

The kiss was slow, almost ritualistic, a seal of their connection. The webs glowed brighter, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

Morwynn did not force, did not dominate. She guided, like a seamstress before a tapestry. And Eren, for the first time in a long time, let himself go, knowing that with her, chaos was only the beginning of something beautiful.

The web-filled room pulsed, as if the space itself breathed in unison with Eren and Morwynn. The silver webs, stretched in arcs and spirals, captured the moonlight in reflections that danced like living specters.

Each strand seemed charged with magic, vibrating with an energy that echoed the connection between them.

Eren felt the bond, that intangible link that the system allowed, but that he and his monsters had transformed into something more—something alive, something real.

With Morwynn, it was more than shared power; it was a tapestry of emotions, woven with threads of trust, respect, and a chaos that they both understood.

Morwynn stood before him, her multifaceted eyes shining like broken jewels, reflecting fragments of Eren in each facet. She moved not with haste, but with a precision reminiscent of ancient choreography.

"The bond," she whispered, her voice like a bass violin, resonating in Eren’s chest, "is a tapestry. Every touch, every word, is a thread that strengthens the work. Are you ready to weave with me?"

One of her arachnid legs brushed Eren’s arm, cold as wet silk but warming at the touch of his skin.

The touch was both delicate and dangerous, as if she could entangle him in an instant—or free him just as easily.

Eren did not pull away. He felt her energy flowing toward him, a mixture of illusion and silence that enveloped him like an invisible web.

It was different from Kaela, whose strength was raw and fierce, or Nyssa, whose warmth was gentle and comforting.

Morwynn was an inviting void, a singing silence. He responded, letting his own strength—the determination that had led him to defeat Malrik, the courage that had made him spare Hagan—flow to her.

The system recognized the status sharing, but this was deeper: a cycle of energy, a perfect balance.

Morwynn smiled, a smile that was both a promise and a threat.

"Dance with me, Eren," she whispered, drawing closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. "But be careful. My threads do not forgive hesitation."

She teased him, testing his resolve, but there was no domination in her movements.

It was a dance of equals, an exchange where neither needed to yield to win.

The air in the room seemed denser, heavy with the scent of moss and metal emanating from the webs. The floating candles, lit by runes, flickered in shades of purple and blue, casting shadows that danced on the walls like figures from a feverish dream.

Morwynn guided Eren with precise movements, her arachnid legs tracing invisible runes on his skin. It was not to restrain him, but to mark him, as if she were weaving his story with hers.

Each touch was a brushstroke, each movement a line in a larger work. Eren responded with equal intensity, his hands finding her contours—the cool texture of her arachnid skin, the soft angles where flesh met natural armor.

He was not passive; he understood her language, and each of his gestures was an affirmation that he belonged to that dance.

The webs around them vibrated, glowing brighter, as if the room were an extension of Morwynn’s own body.

She moved with a grace that defied logic, her arachnid legs gliding across the web floor, guiding Eren to the center of the sanctuary.

"You have seen the void, Eren," she whispered, pausing to stare at him, her eyes catching the light like broken mirrors. "Now, paint it with me."

Her voice was an invitation, a command, a plea—all at once.

Eren felt the heat rise in his chest, a mixture of desire and reverence. He pulled her toward him, his hands firm but gentle, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

The scene became more intense, but never lost its elegance. Morwynn moved like an artist, each gesture calculated but full of passion.

Her legs traced patterns on Eren’s skin, runes that glowed for an instant before dissolving into silver sparks.

She did not hold him, but enveloped him, the threads of her magic intertwining with the bond they shared. Eren responded with equal intensity, his movements reflecting the trust they had built.

He wasn’t just a tamer; he was her partner, the elegant mistake she had chosen to follow. Each touch was an exchange, each breath a note in a symphony only they could hear.

The room reacted to their connection. The webs pulsed in shades of purple and silver, the runes on the floating candles lighting up with an almost liquid light.

The web floor trembled slightly, as if responding to the energy flowing between them.

Morwynn paused at times, her eyes fixed on Eren’s, and whispered phrases that were both poetry and promise:

"Our threads are stronger than fate. Let’s tear it apart and sew it back together."

Eren felt the power of the bond grow, a fusion of chaos and harmony that defied the rules of the system.

He held her tighter, not to dominate her, but to anchor himself to her, as if he feared that the void she mentioned might swallow them.

The climax came like a silent storm. The webs glowed with an almost blinding intensity, and the runes in the room exploded into light, bathing everything in shades of purple and silver. Morwynn did not scream, did not surrender to excess; she whispered, even at the height of it, her voice a thread that bound Eren to her.

"You are the chaos I have chosen," she murmured, as the world around them seemed to dissolve into a dance of light and shadow.

Eren felt every beat of her heart, every pulse of energy flowing between them, as if they were one.

When the storm passed, the room returned to a comfortable silence.

Eren and Morwynn rested among the webs, their bodies intertwined like threads of an incomplete tapestry.

The air was lighter now, but still heavy with the scent of moss and metal. Morwynn wove a small rune that floated between them, glowing softly before dissolving.

"A gift," she said, her voice soft but laden with meaning. "A symbol of who we are."

Eren looked at her, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths.

"Hagan thought he could destroy what I tamed, and he failed."

Morwynn laughed, a low, melodic sound, like the tinkling of distant bells.

"Hagan was a fool. He saw only what he wanted to see. But you... you made our threads eternal." She leaned forward, resting her head on Eren’s chest, the movement so natural it seemed rehearsed. "You are the error the system did not foresee," she whispered, her eyes half-closed, shining with an idea she did not yet reveal. "And I am your seamstress."

Eren felt the weight of those words, but also the lightness that came with them. He caressed her cold skin, feeling the smooth lines where flesh met arachnid armor.

The bond between them was more than power; it was a promise, a work in progress. He thought about the new path of evolution—Tamer of the Lost Order—and what it might mean. Morwynn seemed to know more than she was saying, but as always, she kept her secrets with the same elegance with which she wove her webs.

The room was quiet now, the webs glowing softly, as if satisfied with what they had witnessed.

Eren closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Morwynn’s body against his. The future was uncertain, but at that moment, he knew he would not face the chaos alone.

Morwynn was his partner, his seamstress, his dance in the void. And together, they would paint the world with the chaos that only they understood.

The web-filled room, now silent, seemed to have absorbed the chaos of the dance that Eren and Morwynn had shared. The silver webs, which had once pulsed with magic, now glowed softly, as if satisfied, almost welcoming.

The moonlight, filtered through the broken stained-glass windows of the mansion, cast a silvery veil over the space, illuminating Morwynn’s face. Her multifaceted eyes reflected fragments of light, but what caught Eren’s attention was the rare smile that curved her lips—not a smile of satisfaction, but of something more dangerous, as if a new and lethal idea was forming in her sharp mind.

They lay among the webs, their bodies still close, enveloped in a silence that was more intimate than any words.

Eren traced the contours of Morwynn’s cold skin with his fingertips, feeling the smooth texture where flesh blended with arachnid armor.

She did not move, only watched, her eyes capturing every detail of him, as if painting him in her memory.

"Tamer of the Lost Order," she whispered, her voice so low it seemed part of the air itself. "What do you think it means, Eren? A title? A promise? Or a crack in the system that binds us?"

There was a teasing tone in her words, but also genuine curiosity, as if she already knew the answer but wanted to see what he would do with the question.

Eren was silent for a moment, the weight of the title echoing in his mind. He felt the system, that cold, mechanical force that ruled the world, trying to define him, to mold him. But with Morwynn, with all her monsters, he had learned to defy those rules.

"Maybe it’s all of that," he replied, his voice calm but full of determination. "A crack. A chance to do something the system doesn’t expect."

The moment was interrupted by distant voices echoing through the halls of the mansion.

"Eren!"

Kaela’s hoarse voice cut through the silence, followed by Sylha’s dramatic tone:

"O great hero, the city cries out for your presence! Don’t keep us waiting!"

Nyssa, more timid, added something inaudible, probably an attempt to soften the interruption.

Morwynn raised an eyebrow, the movement so subtle that it almost went unnoticed.

"They have terrible timing," she muttered, but there was no anger in her voice, just a slight aesthetic irritation.

Eren chuckled softly, beginning to rise. Morwynn slowly stepped back, resuming her elegant, distant posture, like a queen returning to her throne. She wove one last rune, a small symbol that floated toward Eren, glowing in shades of silver and purple.

"A gift," she said, her voice soft but laden with meaning. "For the coming chaos. Keep it safe."

Eren took the rune, feeling a slight tingling in his fingers as it dissolved into his skin. He didn’t ask what it was; with Morwynn, some things were better left as mysteries.

As he dressed, Eren reflected on his monsters.

Kaela, with her brute strength and fierce loyalty, was the pillar that kept him steady.

Nyssa, with her gentle, hesitant heart, was the light that reminded him of his humanity.

Sylha, with her dramatic unpredictability, was the fire that kept everything moving.

And Morwynn... Morwynn was his mind, his strategist, his seamstress of chaos. Together, they were not just his allies; they were his chosen tools, each an essential part of what he had become.

He looked at Morwynn, who watched him with a gaze that was both analytical and affectionate.

"You carry our weight, Eren," she said, her voice a whisper that seemed to echo through the webs. "But also our beauty. Do not bow."

Eren simply nodded. He finished getting ready, adjusting the cloak that still bore the marks of battle—tears and smudges of soot that told their own story.

Morwynn rose, her arachnid legs moving with a grace that defied logic, and walked to the door.

Before opening it, she traced a final rune in the air, a quick gesture that made the webs in the room flicker and begin to dissolve, as if they had never existed.

They left the sanctuary, the dark hallway of the mansion seeming almost mundane after the magic of Morwynn’s room.

The voices of the other monsters grew louder as they approached the main hall. Kaela was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a crooked smile on her face. She sniffed the air and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and approval.

"Had some fun, huh?" she said, her voice laden with teasing.

Nyssa, sitting in a corner, blushed intensely, her translucent body glowing pink.

"I-I... I don’t know what you’re talking about!" she stammered, looking at the floor.

Sylha, floating above the group, didn’t miss the chance to dramatize.

"Oh, what scandalous secrets! A romance woven in the shadows! Tell me everything, or I swear I’ll write an entire tragedy about it!"

She twirled in the air, her veil fluttering, but Morwynn ignored her completely, her eyes fixed on Eren with a calmness that said more than any response.

"Let’s go," Eren said, cutting Sylha’s dramatics short with a firm but gentle tone. "The city is waiting."

He led the group out of the mansion, the cold night air of Barovik enveloping them like a cloak.

The city, now free from the rule of the Order of the Burning Eye, was gathered in the central square, a crowd of weary but hopeful faces waiting to cheer their heroes.

Torches flickered, casting long shadows that danced like echoes of the recent battle.

Eren felt the weight of his new title—Tamer of the Lost Order—like an invisible chain, but he also felt the strength of his bonds with his monsters. Kaela walked to his right, her step steady, ready for any challenge.

Nyssa was on his left, hesitant, but with a glint of determination in her eyes. Sylha floated ahead, already rehearsing some exaggerated speech for the crowd. And Morwynn... Morwynn was at his side, silent but present, her eyes capturing the light of the torches like broken stars.

As the crowd began to applaud, Morwynn leaned toward him, her voice a whisper that cut through the noise like a blade. "The world is a torn tapestry, Eren," she said, her eyes fixed on the crowd, but her mind somewhere much further away. "How about we start sewing it back together?"

Eren looked at her, feeling the weight and promise of those words. The Lost Order was a mystery, a path he did not yet understand. But with Morwynn by his side—with all of them—he knew he was ready to pull the threads of fate and see where the chaos would take them.

The crowd roared, but to Eren, the only sound that mattered was Morwynn’s whisper, promising a future they would weave together.