Accompanied by that shrill scream, the Drunkard felt a sudden lightness behind him, his feet landing firmly back on the ground, finding once again the sensation of earth beneath him.
Those wet, slippery stone slabs he had cursed a thousand times in the past now seemed inexplicably dear, filling him with an urge to prostrate himself and offer prayers of gratitude.
Provided, of course, he managed to survive the monstrous maw before him.
With his legs to support him, the Drunkard could muster more strength in his arms. He fought desperately, struggling backward. But the jointed limbs wrapped around his waist and shoulders were as immovable as if forged from iron. He could only watch as the creature's gaping maw drew closer and closer.
"Don't come any closer! Get away!!" he shouted despairingly.
"Hmm, so this must be the Jorōgumo."
