CHAPTER 140: WE CAN DO IT

The moment Chief Varros stepped back and declared his exhaustion, the room seemed to freeze—not in peace, but in dread.

The tension in the air thickened like smoke.

The two attendants flinched first, their eyes snapping to the towering, grotesque figure looming only a few meters away.

Its swollen, tentacled form pulsed like a living tumor, and the soft, wheezing rattle of its breaths echoed against the chamber’s stone walls.

"C-Chief Varros..." one attendant stammered, his voice trembling. "W-what should we do now?"

Varros exhaled slowly, wiping sweat from his brow, trying to hide the subtle tremor in his wrist. "We don’t have a choice," he said lowly. "It needs to be distracted. We must buy time... just a little." His voice, while rough, still carried the commanding edge of a seasoned warrior.

But the second attendant snapped to attention, eyes wide. "Distract... you mean us, sir?"

Varros didn’t answer directly. He looked forward, calculating the next move in the silence.

The first attendant immediately stepped forward, voice cracking with respectful protest. "Sir Chief... With all due respect, we’re not equipped for that! That thing—whatever it is—its sheer size, the muscle mass alone, we don’t even know what those tumors do when ruptured! We’re not like you! Or the young masters!"

"We’re trained to assist," the second added, standing firm though his legs slightly shook. "We’re good at throwing knives, providing flanking support—but not direct engagement against... against that."

"I know," Varros said, his voice even, like tempered steel. "I’m not asking you to slay it. Just move, bait it, throw a knife or two, force it to shift its footing. Anything to give me ten seconds to recover."

"Ten seconds could be ten lifetimes in front of that thing, sir!" the first attendant said, nearly breaking form.

Chief Varros would open his mouth calmly while panting. "We don’t have a choice, you two are the only capable ones here. Yes... only two."

The two attendants would look at each other in disbelief and then, it turned into fear. They absolutely look like they would not risk their lives for such a thing.

"But we-"

Chief Varros would cut them off. "Done be cowards!"

The two attendants weren’t sure. They would look at the blades for a long time. But still, they couldn’t make a decision.

Before the tension could mount further, Calien stepped forward, his grey eyes intense but clear. "Then let us do it," he said firmly. "Let Erik and I handle the distraction. You rest, Chief Varros."

Varros’s gaze darted toward him, sharp and commanding. "Absolutely not."

Erik nodded beside Calien. "We trained for this."

"No," Varros repeated, louder this time, and sterner. "You’re children. You may be capable of killing those smaller octopus-spawn, and yes, I’ve seen your reflexes, your instincts... but that thing—" He gestured at the hulking monster breathing in the shadow like a giant infected god. "That thing could flatten you with one swipe."

The first attendant stepped in, looking at the boys as if they’d lost their minds. "Your young bodies can’t take a hit like that! One wrong dodge, one failed throw, and you’re dead!"

The second attendant was almost pleading now. "Please, young masters! Don’t speak recklessly. We can’t afford to lose you. Even if your blades are blessed, even if you are promising prodigies, you’re still... human. Fragile."

"But this is what Teacher Nolan trained us for!" Calien shot back, his tone fierce but respectful. "He didn’t send us to this mission to hide behind people. He taught us that we would face monsters stronger than us, faster than us, smarter than us... and we would still fight them."

"We won’t throw ourselves at it mindlessly," Erik added, his voice quieter but no less resolved. "We’re not suicidal. But we’ve seen this type of thing in the simulation he gave us. We practiced dodging giant enemies, we were taught how to stay out of their line of sight and live in their blind spot."

"That’s a game!" the first attendant barked. "This isn’t illusion magic anymore! This isn’t some trick inside an arcane class! This thing breathes real air! It tears through stone like butter!"

"We know," Calien replied. "And that’s why we have to move now. It won’t wait for us to argue."

Varros’s fists clenched. His breathing was still uneven. He looked at the creature again. Its weight was shifting, its limbs pulsing. The tumors across its back seemed to darken in color, as if they were reacting to its growing irritation.

"Listen to your Chief!" the second attendant insisted, grabbing Erik’s shoulder. "We are telling you the right thing—"

"But it’s not the effective thing," Erik said, shaking him off gently. "Look. Chief Varros can’t breathe right. He needs recovery time. And you—none of you—can move fast enough to bait that creature."

Calien stepped beside him, both of them calm and resolved now. "We’re the best chance you have at distraction."

"I forbid it!" Varros barked. He can’t sacrifice their lives, they are too talented to die in front of him and too young too. He must stop them from making foolish decisions.

"We’re not asking for permission," Calien replied, eyes locked forward. "We’re telling you what must be done."

"Young master Calien—!"

"Enough!" Varros thundered.

Everyone froze.

The chief exhaled deeply again. He looked at them—not with anger, not with pride, but with the burdened eyes of a man who’d watched too many die under his command.

"You two... You really think you can do it?"

Erik nodded.

"We’ve done it before," Calien said.

"In a game," the attendant muttered.

Varros sighed again and leaned against the wall. His voice softened. "You better be right about this."

Suddenly—

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A monstrous roar erupted like a landslide crashing through steel. The chamber trembled. Small stones rained from the ceiling. The air turned acidic, as if the monster had exhaled pure hatred.

Everyone’s arguments stopped. Eyes turned to the creature.

Its massive head had twisted toward them.

And it was moving.