Deep beneath the hive, beyond sanctioned routes and into the suffocating dark, the Pit Spiders hold dominion. Their rise was marked not by war, but by disappearance—crews vanishing without trace, tunnels falling silent, survivors reduced to muttering fragments before they too were lost. Nothing was taken. Something had simply claimed what was already there.

At the centre of this web is a figure known only as Spider.

No one agrees on what Spider is. A man, perhaps—once. Or something else, spread across the depths, seeing through a thousand unseen eyes. His presence is never clear—only glimpsed in shifting shadow. Movements too precise. A voice too cold, too deliberate. Where he lingers, the tunnels seem to listen.

He does not rule alone.

The depths crawl with mechanical horrors—multi-limbed constructs fashioned from ancient mining machines, skittering through walls and ceilings where no human can follow. They strike without warning, leaving behind bodies marked by something more than slaughter.

Among the Pit Spiders, darker rumours persist. Of blades imbued with unholy power. Of dark rituals in the lowest depths. Of something ancient that answers when called.

In the deepest tunnels, The Pit Spiders await. Always observing, silent and patient.

And by the time you realise you are being watched, it is already too late...