CHAPTER 143: [WHY, INDEED?]

Kairo blinked once.

Twice.

A third time.

His mind refused to process what was happening.

Maybe it was the phantoms.

Maybe it was another illusion, another trick meant to throw him off balance.

But no—

The pressure on his lips didn’t vanish. The warmth stayed.

Even underwater, even bound and trembling, Eli’s mouth pressed against his with a strange, stubborn clarity.

And as seconds dragged, Kairo felt it—the phantom hands pulling away.

Further. Further.

Like the kiss itself was driving them back.

His chest tightened.’

’This is real. He’s actually kissing me.

Why?

The thought slammed against his skull, rattling harder than any battle cry, harder than any blade to his throat. It was shocking, unnecessary, and—

’Wait.’

Kairo was frozen. His body betrayed him.

Out of all the attacks in the world, none had ever done this to him. Nothing had ever stolen his composure, stopped his blade mid-swing, locked his lungs in his chest like this.

Not even the monster looming above them. Not even the abyss clawing at their feet.

This... kiss.

It almost felt like fear.

Not the fear of death. He’d faced that countless times. But something heavier, sharper, foreign. He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t push Eli away.

He couldn’t even fight back against the phantoms.

He felt weak.

All he could feel was the press of those lips, soft and desperate, burning into him beneath the cold water.

It wasn’t until Eli finally pulled back—his wrists still bound tight by Kairo’s belt—that Kairo snapped from his daze.

The boy’s yellow eyes met his, steady now. Clear.

No psychotic haze. No mindless rage. No words dripping with hate.

Just Eli.

Looking at him with a seriousness that made Kairo’s chest twist.

Maybe it was the restraints. Maybe it was the water. Maybe he’d snapped out of the octopus’s control.

Kairo didn’t know.

And if the kiss hadn’t been enough to shatter his calm, what came next pushed him further.

Because as he stared back into those steady eyes—

His own widened.

Red.

The water around them was shifting. Not the murk of phantoms. Not the black of the cavern.

Red.

Pouring out from Eli.

’Blood? He’s bleeding?’

Kairo’s black eyes widened, the sight tearing him out of the haze. This wasn’t normal bleeding—not from a wound he could see.

No cut, no gash. And yet, red was spilling out of Eli, pouring faster, richer, than what he had willingly given before.

The phantoms were still dragging, their clawed hands gripping his legs, their tails lashing around his boots, pulling, pulling.

But Kairo’s focus slammed entirely onto the boy in his arms.

"Eli—!" His voice broke in the water, useless bubbles spilling from his lips, but instinct screamed at him to move.

He hooked his arm tighter around the boy, reaching for the belt restraining his wrists, intent on tearing him free.

But Eli shook his head. Violently. His frail body trembled against Kairo’s chest, but it wasn’t the thrash of possession this time. No, it was deliberate. Controlled.

’What now?’ Kairo’s thoughts ground like stone, his eyes narrowing sharply as more blood streamed out, swirling through the water like crimson smoke.

Too much. Far too much. It could kill him.

And then—

Eli’s gaze locked onto his. Wide, yellow, burning even through the haze. His lips parted, no sound reaching, only bubbles slipping out. But his mouth shaped words.

Over and over.

Kairo’s jaw tightened. He leaned closer, reading them.

"...Use..."

His stomach dropped.

"...the blood..."

Kairo’s chest constricted, his teeth grinding as fury and disbelief warred inside him.

’This suicidal idiot—’

Yet the command was clear.

Eli’s blood.

He was offering again.

▒▓ ▀▄█ ⚠ ▄█▀ ▓▒

Eli tried to keep calm.

He forced his chest to steady, forced his thoughts not to spiral, even as crimson kept spilling from him in waves that should’ve terrified him.

But this time, there was no pain.

No suffocating grip of the octopus clawing at his mind.

This was him.

His choice.

And that only meant one thing—if the octopus wasn’t holding him anymore, then it was here. Watching. Waiting.

His yellow eyes strained through the blur of water, finding Kairo. The hunter was still frozen, slower than usual, his sharp reflex dulled by the shock of what Eli had just done.

’Come on, Kairo!’ Eli screamed in his head, panic lacing his thoughts. His wrists were still bound tight by Kairo’s belt, his arms useless, pinned against his chest.

He couldn’t even fight the phantoms clawing at his ankles, dragging him down. He kicked, but their grip was slick and unyielding, skeletal fingers grinding into bone.

Cold panic slithered into his veins. He was bleeding, surrounded by his own blood, and soon he’d be swallowed whole if Kairo didn’t—

Then Kairo moved.

Black eyes narrowed, narrowing to slits, and in that instant they weren’t black at all. They burned faint red, like embers flickering to life beneath obsidian.

Eli’s heart jolted.

And then the blood answered.

Every drop he’d spilled—each ribbon swirling through the flood—shivered. Vibrated. The liquid shifted unnaturally, thickening. Solidifying.

No longer just his lifeblood dissipating into the abyss, but something sharper, heavier.

A weapon.

Kairo’s hand stretched outward through the water, and the blood obeyed. It drew to him in threads, in spikes, in jagged arcs, hardening mid-current like glass forged from crimson steel.

The phantoms clawing at Eli froze for a split second.

Then Kairo’s aura surged.

’Kairo managed to make a blood sword. Thank God.’

Relief hit Eli like fire in his chest. The blood loss, the suffocation, the weight of the phantoms—it didn’t matter.

It was worth it.

Because in Kairo’s hand, crimson solidified. It warped from liquid to edge, stretching into a blade darker than the abyss, the faint glow of red veins pulsing along its surface.

A sword born from Eli’s own blood, gleaming with lethal promise.

The instant its weight settled in Kairo’s grip, the man moved.

With a sharp tug, he hauled Eli tighter against his chest, locking him in place with one arm, his other hand tightening around the new weapon.

Eli’s cheek pressed against the hunter’s soaked uniform, his ears catching the thunder of Kairo’s steady heartbeat—steady, even here.

The phantoms didn’t stop. Their claws raked higher, skeletal fingers digging into Kairo’s legs, trying to drag both of them into the dark.

Their tails coiled like ropes, tugging harder, their red eyes burning brighter.

Kairo’s black gaze snapped down on them, the faint red flicker glowing hotter in his irises.

Eli’s vision blurred, black spots blotting out the edges, but even through the haze he saw it—

Kairo.

The sword of blood gleamed like liquid fire in his grip, every swing tearing the water apart as if the abyss itself was splitting before him.

SHHHK—!

The first phantom didn’t even scream. Its skull cracked in two, dissolving into a smear of black froth before it could sink its claws into Eli’s ankle.

Another lunged from below, jaw splitting wider than a human face should ever allow, jagged teeth like shattered glass—

Kairo twisted, the blade flashing in a brutal arc. Red veins across the weapon pulsed like living sinew as the creature vanished in a burst of crimson mist.

One by one. Strike by strike.

Every swing was merciless, calculated, devastating. Every phantom that reached for Eli was shredded before it could touch him, their forms ripped into nothingness like shadows stripped bare by firelight.

And through it all—

Kairo never let go.

Eli felt it even as his lungs burned, his chest convulsing for air. That iron grip clamped him against the hunter’s chest, immovable. Each kick of Kairo’s legs drove them upward through the pull of the abyss, piston-strong, relentless.

Upward. Always upward.

Through the blur of pain, Eli’s eyes stayed fixed on him—on the light brown hair swirling through the water, on the glowing veins that ran like molten fire through the sword, on the sheer unyielding presence that stood like a wall between him and the monsters.

For the first time since stepping into this dungeon, Eli felt something different.

Not just protection.

Salvation.

The swarm thinned. The phantoms’ red eyes winked out, one by one, their final screams bubbling faintly before fading into silence.

And then—

Light.

The surface split above them.

Kairo surged first, dragging Eli with him until both of them broke through the flood.

"—hahhh!" Eli gasped, violent coughs ripping out as he choked on the first sweet burn of oxygen. His chest heaved, every breath ragged, but he clung to it, clung to the taste of life.

Beside him, Kairo’s breathing came steady, sharp, controlled—but even he drew in gulps, droplets streaming down his face as his black eyes swept the cavern, unshaken, assessing.

The blood-sword hissed faintly, its edges dripping before solidifying again. In one sharp, practiced motion, Kairo raised it—

—and with a flick, he sliced downward.

SHNK!

The belt binding Eli’s wrists split apart, leather falling limp into the water. His arms floated free, sluggish and heavy, muscles sore from strain. His fingers twitched, weak, trembling, but he could move again.

For a moment, only their ragged breathing filled the air, echoing off stone.

Then—

Kairo’s gaze snapped onto him.

Sharp. Demanding. Black eyes locking with yellow, burning through the haze.

"How." His voice was low, clipped, each syllable edged like a blade. "How did you break free from its control?"

Eli froze. The question speared through him harder than any phantom claw.

"I—" His throat caught.

The voice that wasn’t his. His lips stung faintly, burning with a warmth that had no place in the cold.

Kairo didn’t wait.

He leaned closer, his words harder this time, each one deliberate, calculated, cutting.

"And why," his jaw flexed, black eyes narrowing like drawn steel, "did you kiss me?"