Steam curled gently through the dimly lit bathroom as water sloshed softly in the oversized tub. Ellen sat on the edge of it, sleeves rolled up, carefully bathing the unconscious arachness. Despite her massive spider half, the tub—likely constructed for alien anatomies—was just barely large enough to accommodate her. Ellen had positioned her in a way that let her rest with minimal strain, her spider legs slightly curled and tucked to avoid awkward bends.
Ellen's touch was surprisingly gentle for someone known to tear through Ethereals with brute strength. She started with the arachness's human half, the part of her that was now exposed for the first time. The black, hardened exoskeletal plates that once covered her torso had come off like discarded armor, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath. It was clear she took care of herself—her skin, though faintly glowing with an otherworldly pallor, was soft and unmarred.
Ellen used a cloth soaked in warm water and cleanser, working slowly down from her shoulders. She wiped carefully along the collarbone, down her arms, across her back, and the sides of her neck. There was something serene about the way she moved—deliberate, respectful. As if acknowledging the trust this unconscious being had unknowingly given her.
Moving to the spider half was more challenging. The chitin plates gleamed faintly in the steam, a deep black with iridescent hints. Ellen grabbed a longer brush and some gentle polish-like soap she had stored for moments like this, scrubbing along the joints and legs with practiced precision. She worked around the segmented body, brushing in smooth, long strokes, and carefully cleared any debris stuck between the legs or beneath the plating.
Once she was satisfied, Ellen drained the tub and lifted the arachness with practiced strength. She dried her gently with towels, moving carefully over her human half first, then the spider half—wiping each leg and joint dry until no moisture remained. Her touch was tender, almost maternal.
She carried her to a temporary room aboard Acheron's spaceship. The room was dim and warm, lined with cloth and starlight peeking from the viewport. Setting the arachness down on the custom bedding designed for her frame, Ellen opened her pocket dimension and pulled out a folded skirt. It wouldn't fit over the spider half, but it was something. She draped it nearby in case she wanted to use it later.
Without another word, Ellen turned, stepped quietly out of the room, and shut the door behind her.
She exhaled. Now she needed to find Acheron. They had unfinished business to talk about—especially after the bounty hunt incident. Her boots echoed in the metallic corridors of the ship as she began her search.
Ellen found Acheron in the spaceship's living room, her long black hair cascading down her back as she tended to a row of exotic plants lining the window. Despite the chaos that always seemed to follow them, there was something peaceful about this moment—Acheron humming quietly, misting leaves with care, as starlight filtered through the viewport.
Ellen stood near the doorway for a moment before speaking. "So... what that guy said back there. About you not being a Galaxy Ranger. Was he telling the truth?"
Acheron didn't look away from the plant she was watering. "He was." Her voice was soft, but certain. "I'm not one of them, Ellen. Never was."
"Then why do people think you are?"
She finally turned, placing the watering can down. "Because it's easier. The Galaxy Rangers are already wrapped in myths and secrets. No one asks questions when you're part of something mysterious. It's a good cover for a wanderer like me. Keeps people from prying too deep."
Ellen nodded slowly. "Makes sense."
Acheron leaned against the wall, folding her arms. "What about you, though? Why keep the arachnid alive? You could've killed her. Or just let her go. But instead, you're... caring for her."
Ellen shrugged and leaned back against the doorframe. "She's useful. Strong. And yeah, I can handle anything thrown at me—but I can't just go around blowing everything up or ending fights in one punch like some walking catastrophe. I've gotta be careful. Tactical. People can't know just how strong I really am."
"So you need someone who can act as your blade in the shadows. A proxy," Acheron said, thoughtfully.
"Exactly."
Acheron gave a faint smile. "You're learning."
Ellen scoffed. "Of course I am. I'm not stupid."
With that, she turned and left the living room, making her way down the corridor to check on the arachnid.
Ellen returned to her room, the soft click of the door echoing through the hall. As she stepped inside, her eyes scanned the space—and what greeted her was an intricate mess of cobwebs that draped over every surface. The silken threads shimmered faintly, glowing a dim red, casting the entire room in a haunting, otherworldly light. The air had a stillness to it, thick with silence and the smell of ether-tainted silk.
In the corner, perched atop a dense web she had woven herself, was the arachness. Her eyes gleamed with a glowing red hue, unblinking and watchful, as they focused directly on Ellen.
Ellen didn't speak. She simply closed the door behind her with deliberate calm and walked forward. Step by step, her figure emerged into the soft crimson glow. The arachness tensed. Her threads pulsed with heat, the temperature in the room rising slightly as if warning of a potential explosion—but Ellen wasn't fooled.
She could see through the bluff. This one wasn't suicidal. Scared, cornered, unsure? Maybe. But not reckless. Ellen's white eyes glowed with quiet intensity, piercing through the false bravado. As she stopped in front of the arachness, her shadow draped over her like a cloak.
The arachness tried to maintain eye contact, but her own body betrayed her—shrinking in instinctive submission, shrinking before the overwhelming presence of the one standing before her.
Without warning, Ellen knelt and gently wrapped her arms around her. One hand came up to stroke the arachness's hair with surprising tenderness.
"Good job," Ellen whispered, her voice a low rumble. "I didn't make the wrong choice."
And for the first time, the glowing red in the arachness's eyes flickered—not with fear, but with something else.
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Just a filler chapter but I have a small announcement. I'm getting bored from this story writing chapters specifically its starting to feel more like a chore than something I do for fun. I've been doing this for 4 months it's about time I do something else instead. I still want to make chapters but not for this story have two story's I want to focus on as of current Pressure or Re:Zero.