CHAPTER 137: REQUEST

However, up in his villa, Nolan felt a surprising wave of relief roll through him.

Despite the hideous appearance of that monster and its terrifying strength, he could sense something off about the fight — the creature was monstrous, yes, but it was still mortal.

No trace of mana shimmered around its body, no spell shielding its flesh.

That could only mean one thing: this was part of some elaborate trap set to wear down Varros and his knights, forcing them to face horrors without their usual magical strength.

Nolan could almost feel the careful engineering of that encounter from here. But if this was the worst they had to face, then all Varros needed was the resolve to fight like a true veteran. And Nolan had no doubt about that.

He trusted Varros completely — especially with his students.

Even drained of mana, Varros was a chief for a reason.

Skilled enough to recognize an opponent’s vulnerabilities, bold enough to test every theory with his own hands. Nolan’s hands loosened where they had clenched at his sides, and he exhaled slowly.

Still, his gaze stayed fixed on the glowing projection of the tower, where the chief had already moved.

"Stand back," Varros ordered calmly, his voice echoing across the tense stone corridor as Calien and Erik pulled the attendants further behind him. "I’ll deal with this. It doesn’t have mana. That’s a deliberate trap to slow us down."

The creature answered with a bellowing roar that rattled dust from the ceiling. Its monstrous arms unfurled, thick cords of muscle flexing with impossible power, tentacles whipping the air as it advanced.

And without wasting another breath, Varros leapt forward to meet it.

He moved with astonishing grace for someone drained of his usual power. His feet found solid footing between crumbling debris as he slashed first across its chest — his blade a streak of silver in the dim light. Sparks flew where steel met rubbery flesh, yet the hide didn’t even tear.

The monster answered with a swipe of one gargantuan arm.

Varros bent low under the swing, ribs nearly brushing the cracked floor as his boots skidded him past its flank.

With a sharp pivot, he drove his knife up under its ribs where its organs might lie — only to feel the blade bounce off as if striking solid stone.

Still not slowing, Varros kept moving. Slash across the thigh. Stab between the tentacles where the legs met. Dig the blade into what passed for its shoulder joint. Again and again he struck, testing every inch of its massive body.

Every attempt failed.

Each cut should have spilled blood or at least torn its unnatural flesh, yet his blade never bit deeper than the skin.

With a growl of his own, he leapt backward, chest heaving as he circled the towering monster, his sharp eyes raking its bulk for some overlooked weakness.

And then that same unease that had prickled Nolan’s spine began to spread through the chief as well.

Why isn’t it bleeding?

The creature only seemed to grow more enraged with each blow that failed to wound it.

Another titanic swing battered the air where Varros had stood an instant before.

Chips of rock scattered under his boots as he spun away, gaze locking briefly on Calien and Erik, who stared back at him — their faces taut with worry.

"Stay where you are," Varros barked without looking away from his foe. "Do not come closer."

He could feel it too.

This fight wasn’t just hard — it was wrong.

Calien and Erik exchanged a glance as they held their ground, tension tight in their shoulders.

Both were skilled enough to recognize what they were seeing.

Every strike that hit its hide, even those that should have been fatal, had done nothing more than scratch the surface.

And that couldn’t be right.

Calien’s lips moved soundlessly as he glanced at Erik — a look sharp as a question. Erik’s brow furrowed, and he gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

That was all they needed.

For an instant, they both remained still, hands tightening around their knives. A thought passed between them without words.

Is this what you’re thinking too?

And with that final, quiet nod, they decided they would speak up before it was too late.

"Chief Varros," Calien called out, voice steady but insistent.

Panting, eyes never leaving his opponent, Varros answered in a tense growl, "What is it? Make it quick."

But the chief hardly listened as they began to speak.

He was already thinking too hard, every instinct urging him to look closer at the monstrous thing before him.

What part had he overlooked? What made this foe so impervious? What was different about this creature, aside from its brute strength and hide?

"Chief!" Erik raised his voice this time.

"Later," Varros snapped back, gaze narrowing.

The monster lunged again, and Varros dived to one side. Dust and shards of crumbled stone scattered as one tentacled limb cracked into the floor with enough force to shatter granite.

And yet — despite the raw power of its strikes — Varros had noticed something peculiar. Every blow had come with wild ferocity, but its hide hadn’t flexed or shifted. Almost as if it were encased in something thicker than mere skin.

He cut across its knee. Sparks flashed.

Nothing.

And all the while, Calien and Erik stood behind him, tense and trembling, hands gripping their knives like lifelines.

"We have a request!" Calien called out this time, louder, more urgent.

This time, Varros finally paused. Panting, eyes narrowed at the monster across from him as it stalked sideways, he glanced back.

"What is it?" he barked.

Calien swallowed, hands trembling with adrenaline. "We need you to trust us for a second. Chief — there’s something wrong with this fight."

Erik nodded vigorously at his side. "We can see it too," he added quickly, words tumbling over themselves. "That thing — we’re sure there’s a spot that can be hit. We remember — it’s like those other spawns earlier."

"Exactly," Calien agreed, voice rising with his certainty. "We learned that when you strike the head, they can’t recover."

The monster roared again as if sensing its moment, its entire bulk trembling as it prepared to strike once more.

"You’re telling me this beast is like them?" Varros narrowed his gaze.

"That’s what we mean," Erik replied urgently. "We thought so too — look at its movements. Its tentacles react to its head turning. Every time you attack elsewhere, it doesn’t even seem to register the damage. It’s like nothing matters unless you go for its head."

Calien’s voice rose, heart pounding so loud it felt like thunder in his ears. "Chief, its face — its eyes. That’s where it’s vulnerable. It’s just like the smaller ones!"

And then — in one brilliant flash of understanding — Varros’s gaze snapped up toward the creature as it lunged at him again.

That was it.

That was what had been nagging at him this entire fight.

And as Calien and Erik watched him square his shoulders and take a measured breath — knowing they had finally hit on the same vital insight — they felt their own eyes light up with a surge of hope.

That had to be it.

That was the key.