CHAPTER 130: SIMILARITY

Calien and Erik jumped at the sound, their hearts thudding so loud it felt as if they could hear them in their ears. The roar had come from somewhere deeper inside the tower, a savage and ear-splitting bellow that raised the hair on the back of their necks and froze them where they stood.

"What the hell was that?" Calien whispered, eyes wide as he glanced at Erik.

"Don’t tell me this is like one of those games," Erik replied, his voice trembling despite himself. The two exchanged a look as they thought back to their secret training with Nolan. Back when they’d been thrown into fight after fight with infected humans in what felt like a deadly simulation. Even as they were hurling knives and cutting down the humanoid octopus creatures outside, it had all felt like some strange echo of that game they’d played in class. Could it be that this was something even worse? Could this monstrous roar mean a boss fight was waiting up there for them?

"Gods..." Calien muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "This really is just like one of Teacher Nolan’s games."

Behind them, Chief Varros frowned, the concern plain on his face. "That sound," he began cautiously, "means we ought to go back. This is more dangerous than what you’ve faced so far. You heard me—let’s go back!"

But Calien and Erik exchanged a look of pure determination and shook their heads in unison. "No," Calien replied firmly.

"You’re joking," one of Calien’s attendants stammered, glancing up at the cracked windows of the tower as if expecting some monstrous shadow to leap out at any second. "That thing could crush us like bugs. The chief is right—we need to retreat."

"Exactly," echoed Erik’s own attendant, who wrung his hands nervously. "We must return, young master. This is too risky!"

Calien brushed them both off with a quick wave. "That’s exactly what Teacher Nolan would say if we weren’t prepared," he countered, grinning with an almost reckless light in his eyes.

"You’re wrong," Varros argued, his brow creased with worry. "Your teacher would never send you into something like this."

But Erik straightened up, crossing his arms with a stubborn expression that told everyone he’d already made up his mind. "That’s where you’re mistaken, Chief," he said. "Teacher Nolan trained us to face anything. Even this."

His attendant was trembling now. "But this is impossible," he muttered. "You’re just students. Teacher Nolan would never—"

"He would," Calien cut him off quickly. "That’s the point. Teacher Nolan prepared us for exactly this. Remember what he always says? The fight begins when everyone else thinks it’s over."

Chief Varros stared at them in disbelief. These kids were serious. They weren’t going to back down, no matter what was waiting up there.

"You really believe he’d want you to do this?" Varros asked one last time, his voice lowered.

Both Calien and Erik nodded without hesitation.

That was when the two of them glanced at each other and grinned. "Alright," Calien said, his hands rubbing together. "Then let’s do it properly."

"Do what properly?" Varros asked, utterly bewildered.

Calien held up his hand. "Rock-paper-scissors," he replied as if that explained everything.

"You can’t be serious," one attendant groaned.

"Oh, we are," Erik chimed in. "That’s the fair way to choose who takes this thing on."

"You’re going to decide who faces a monster like that," Varros exclaimed, face incredulous, "with a children’s game?!"

"Yep," Calien replied breezily, his expression unbothered.

And so they began.

"Rock," Erik counted, and Calien joined him in perfect sync.

"Paper," they said together.

"Scissors," they declared, hands flashing in and out of fists, palms, and two fingers.

Varros could hardly believe his eyes.

The two attendants stood tense as the hands froze midair, the outcome decided.

Calien burst into a triumphant whoop. "I win!"

Erik groaned loudly and slouched. "Damn it," he muttered, already pouting.

"Are you serious right now?" Varros gasped, feeling his eye twitch.

Calien brushed past him with a grin that was half-excited, half-defiant. "Dead serious," he answered.

And then—without waiting for further protests—he beckoned Erik and their two wide-eyed attendants. "Come on," Calien urged, stepping deeper into the tower as if they were simply moving to the next part of a game.

Behind them, Varros could only stare after the four students with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Were they truly going to hunt down whatever had roared so savagely up there?

He didn’t have time to process further as a sharp hiss broke the tense silence.

A humanoid octopus creature had appeared in the gloom at the end of the hall. Its twin tentacles twitched like serpents, its eyes glowing a faint and eerie light as it fixed them with an unblinking stare.

Erik spun, his hands already reaching for one of the knives tucked at his belt.

Calien barely paused; he pulled one free in a smooth, practiced motion and let it fly before anyone could so much as shout a warning.

The blade glinted through the darkness, its edge singing as it cut cleanly through the stale air and thudded straight into the octopus creature’s forehead with an almost too-perfect precision.

The monster froze, a strange shudder running through its slippery body as its tentacle-ears drooped and its knees buckled.

And then it toppled backward with a wet thump, its shape seeming to collapse inward like a burst water balloon. Flesh dissolved into a glistening puddle, leaving behind the smooth, dark blue gleam of a deep ocean-colored mana crystal that gleamed softly on the floor.

Calien, Erik, and their attendants paused together as they stared at the crystal in astonishment.

Chief Varros was equally frozen in place as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in.

"Looks like we’re still good," Calien said with a shrug, strolling past the fallen creature as if they’d just taken a stroll through a training hall.

Erik, looking less sulky now, quickly followed his lead, his eyes sparking with adrenaline and excitement that mirrored Calien’s.

And for one long moment, Varros could only stand there speechless, wondering what kind of students Nolan had really been training all this time—and whether or not they truly needed his help at all.

...

Georan crouched low on the cracked stone staircase, his hands trembling as he funneled his consciousness into one of the humanoid twin-tentacle octopuses lurking in the shadowy halls below. Every fiber of his being tensed with dark focus as his vision went blank for a heartbeat, then blurred into the unfamiliar jagged shapes of the creature’s eyes. The world shifted into strange underwater hues and jagged edges, his perspective now that of one of his monstrous thralls. From this vantage, he could sense every shift in the stale air and every muted footstep that echoed through the halls.

And there they were: Calien, Erik, the attendants, and Varros, picking their way up the tower like they had nothing to fear.

Georan’s lips curled into a malevolent grin. It wouldn’t matter. They didn’t know that one of his spawns was already lurking close, one tendril flexing like a poised serpent. With a sharp mental command, he urged the creature onward. The spawn glided around a corner, unseen, and leapt out in an explosion of motion toward the boy at the front.

For one glorious, perfect moment, Georan thought the boy would be too slow. Victory was so close he could taste it—the taste of triumph was sharp and electric on his tongue as his monstrous servant raised a slimy tentacle to strike. But then—impossibly fast—Calien spun, his knife arcing in a flash of steel, and the blade buried itself deep into the octopus-thing’s head.

The creature jerked, its tentacles twitching spasmodically as its form liquefied into a glimmering smear on the floor. A lone mana crystal, ocean-blue and perfect, clinked against the stone.

Georan’s brow furrowed, his breath catching in his throat as his link to the spawn was abruptly severed. "No," he growled under his breath. "That can’t be."

He reached out again with his will, seizing control of another octopus servant prowling nearby. Again he guided it up toward the tower, toward those smug, blade-wielding children. This time, he thought, I’ll come at them faster. Smarter. Stronger.

He made the creature sneak along a pillar and leap at the last second, reaching its tentacles around Erik’s exposed side. Its sucker-mouths opened, ready to feast—

And then a blade flew from nowhere and sank between its bulbous eyes. Another perfect strike. Another one gone.

Georan’s hands dug into the stone, his eyes going wide with disbelief. Again?

And again and again, as he slipped into one spawn after another, controlling them one by one, hurling them like dark spearheads into the path of these infuriating children. No matter what strategy he concocted, each one was defeated. Even when he held his breath and thought he had them cornered—one slithering up the staircase, one dropping from the ceiling like some monstrous spider, one lunging from the floor beneath a cracked flagstone—each attack met with unerring throws of knives or well-timed dodges followed by casual, finishing blows.

His frustration built into a sharp-edged fury. How could they anticipate him? How could they fight like seasoned warriors when they were supposed to be mere students?

And every time one of his spawns fell, every time a blue mana crystal chimed onto the stone like a tiny, taunting bell, he felt his strength waver. Every link severed was another pang of pain, and Georan’s hands began to tremble.

He changed tactics, selecting seven spawns at once, his consciousness spreading thin to possess them all simultaneously. This was riskier. It split his focus into seven sharp threads, pulled taut and nearly painful as he manipulated each spawn separately to flank the students, to pincer them all at once.

He pushed his creatures up from behind crates and barrels, slithering out of shadowed doorways, swirling down from cracked arches like ink-black phantoms.

And still, knives flew.

Calien grinned as if expecting them. Erik’s eyes were sharp and glimmering in the dark. Even the attendants, who moments before had seemed frightened, kept their hands steady as they picked up knives and followed the boys’ lead, working like a practiced team, calling out warnings and moving into place without a shred of hesitation.

One by one, the seven octopus-spawns fell.

Georan gasped as the last link shattered, his knees buckling against the staircase. Sweat dripped into his eyes. Every careful plan unraveled. Every lethal creature reduced to a helpless smear of liquid, their mana stones left like trophies for these impudent students.

He had never felt so completely thwarted. It wasn’t merely that they were strong—it was that they were together, moving like a single entity with purpose, driven by some training he didn’t understand.

And as he sat there trembling, his breaths ragged, he realized the horrible truth that each failed attempt had also weakened him. The connection to his spawns was draining him faster than he’d anticipated.

Behind him, deep in the gloom of the staircase that spiraled further down into the tower, something shifted—a sound deeper and more resonant than the subtle splashes and gurgles of his octopus-spawns. It was a growl, long and guttural, rising up from a monstrous throat, full of promise and hunger.

The sound pulled him out of his exhausted haze. His spine stiffened as he glanced back, and an involuntary shudder ran through him as the creature lurking there began to stir. This one was far larger than the others, its shadow long and monstrous as it unfolded itself.

"Right," Georan whispered, feeling the fragile remains of his control snap into a desperate resolve. "Enough playing around."

He wiped the slick of cold sweat from his brow, pushing himself upright with trembling arms as the growling grew louder. It was time to go down there, into the depths where this true terror resided.

"Let’s go," he muttered, voice tight with a mixture of fear and grim anticipation. "We’ll see how they handle you."

And with that, he turned, stepping carefully down into the staircase’s yawning dark, each heavy footfall echoing like a slow heartbeat as the growling deepened into a resonant, hungry roar that shuddered up through the stones and into his bones.