CHAPTER 159: [OBSERVATION OF A FAN]

Mio blinked, his head snapping toward Eli, confusion flickering across his pale, tired face.

"Can what?" he asked, voice low but edged with disbelief.

Eli didn’t look away from the creature in the distance. His gaze stayed fixed on the faint shimmer of the octopus’s wounded eye, still pulsing like a dying ember.

"Maybe," he said quietly, almost as if testing the words on his tongue, "we can do this without Kairo."

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just the sound of dripping water, the echo of their breaths, the faint rustle of Mel shifting restlessly in the background.

Then Mio’s brows drew together. "You mean... fight it?"

Eli turned toward him, the light from the water reflecting faintly in his golden eyes. He could see it—the way Mio’s expression darkened, not with anger but something heavier.

Fear.

Doubt.

That quiet resignation of someone who had already decided he wasn’t enough.

Eli recognized it instantly. Because it was the same expression he’d worn countless times himself.

He took a breath, forcing the words out before Mio could shut him down.

"I know," he began, his tone firm but soft. "It’s going to be difficult. And I haven’t figured out a full plan yet—hell, I barely had one before Kairo was thrown—but..."

He turned fully to face him now, shoulders squaring despite the tremor in his hands.

"There’s no guarantee where he is. Or if he’s okay. We need to look for him, and for that to happen, we need to deal with that thing first." His voice faltered slightly before steadying again. "To defeat this S-Class boss. And you’re an S-Class, Mio."

Mio’s lips parted, but no sound came out at first. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet—almost broken. "I’m... nothing like Kairo."

He looked away, his hair falling over his eyes. "Eli, you might not understand my abilities—or my limits—"

"Oh, I do." Eli cut him off sharply, crossing his arms against his chest. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm—certain. "Your threads are almost invisible. Razor-sharp. You can control them with finger movements precise enough to bind enemies before they even notice. You can slice through steel, weave traps in midair, and—if I remember correctly—you can even charge them with electricity."

That made Mio blink.

For a split second, the faintest flicker of surprise broke through the exhaustion in his face.

"You know a lot about my abilities," Mio said slowly. "But as you can see..." His voice dropped lower, heavy with frustration. "They don’t work on that hump of jelly. It’s too big. Even with Mel’s vines, even with Zaira’s illusions—we barely made it out alive."

He ran a hand through his soaked hair, his usual confidence gone, replaced by raw weariness.

"The threads can cut, yes, but against something that size, they’re useless. The skin’s too thick. Even when I bound it earlier, it just tore through like it was nothing."

"Not really," Eli said, his tone quiet but firm. "You just don’t use your threads to their full potential."

He crossed his arms, meeting Mio’s uncertain gaze. "And I get why," he added softly, his expression flickering with something that wasn’t quite pity—but wasn’t far from it either.

Because it wasn’t that Mio couldn’t.

It was that he didn’t have to.

Kairo had always taken the hard parts—the blood, the danger, the burden of every kill. He carried it all for them, every single time. Whether it was because he didn’t trust anyone else to handle it, or because he cared too much to let anyone else bleed, Eli didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Either way, his team had gotten used to it.

Too used to it.

"It’s easy to be dependent on someone strong," Eli said quietly. The words weren’t judgment—they were lived truth. "Especially when you know they’ll always step in before you fall."

He let out a small, bitter chuckle.

’And that’s coming from someone who used to be E-Class. I know what it’s like to depend on stronger hunters just to survive. To swallow your pride because it’s the only way you’ll make it out alive.’

Mio’s lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze darkened, though not in anger—more in quiet defensiveness.

"With all due respect, Eli... are you really going to tell me we’re the ones depending on the captain?" His voice was low but calm, measured. "When you’ve been the one getting carried the entire time?"

The words hit hard, but Eli didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look offended.

"I know," he said simply. "I know I’ve been carried. I tried my best to help—to do something. I even tried to convince him to let me walk on my own. But you..." He looked up at Mio, his eyes steady. "You didn’t even try to convince him to let me walk so he could help you carry Zaira and Mel."

Mio froze. The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy.

Eli sighed, running a hand through his hair as he softened his tone.

"I’m not trying to offend you. I just... mean it when I say it’s easy to depend on someone. Especially when that someone wants to be depended on. Kairo’s that kind of person—he makes everyone feel like he’s unshakable, so you stop trying to share the weight."

He paused, glancing back at the octopus across the cavern. "But that’s the problem, isn’t it?"

Mio didn’t answer.

Eli exhaled, his voice steadier now. "I’ve watched your raids, you know. A lot of them."

Mio blinked, surprised. "You have?"

"Yes," Eli said, his tone almost nostalgic. "And they were good. You three would hold the line while Kairo tore everything apart. It was efficient. Effective. But..."

His gaze darkened. "It was always the same. You three doing everything you could just to set up the finishing blow for him. The same formula. The same rhythm. And it worked—until now."

He turned to glance at Mel and Zaira, still sitting quietly on the rock, clinging to each other for strength.

"What happens to them now, Mio? What happens to you? Kairo doesn’t have blood to draw from. He doesn’t have his weapon. If he’s injured—if he’s dying—what do we do then?"

The silence that followed was deafening. The sound of water dripping from the stalactites above echoed like ticking seconds.

Eli turned back to Mio, cutting him off just as the man opened his mouth.

"And no, I’m not blaming him," Eli said quickly. "I’m not blaming you either. Or them." His tone was firmer now, almost commanding. "This isn’t about blame. It’s just the truth. The system your team built—it doesn’t work without him. And if we want to survive, it has to."

Mio’s lips parted slightly, but Eli didn’t let him speak. He took a small step forward, pointing directly at him.

"You," he said. "You have blades."

Mio frowned. "No, I don’t—"

"Yes, you do," Eli interrupted. "When you attacked me before, you weren’t trying to kill me—you were trying to scare me. To hurt me. But your threads?" He gestured with his hand, mimicking the motion of slicing through the air. "They were sharp. Sharp enough to cut through steel. You know that."

Mio’s brows knit together. "...So?"

"So," Eli said, taking another step closer, his voice rising slightly with conviction, "they’re sharp everywhere. The ends, the strands—you can create limitless amounts because you’re an S-Class, and yet you settle for just using enough to trap your enemies." He took a breath, eyes bright with focus. "You could weave a storm if you wanted to, Mio. You could slice the battlefield apart."

He lifted a finger, emphasizing his next point. "And you’ve only used your threads to conduct electricity once. Not even as an attack. But it’s possible—you know it is. You could’ve built tools, gauntlets, anything

to harness that ability properly. You have so much potential. You just don’t use it."

For a moment, Mio didn’t respond. He just stood there, frozen, eyes wide. His mouth opened, then closed again.

The expression on his face shifted slowly—from disbelief to realization. His gaze dropped to his hands, trembling slightly as thin, glimmering threads began to slip from his fingertips like silver veins.

He stared at them for a long time.

"...I never thought of it like that," he murmured.

Eli’s chest rose and fell steadily. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.

As a fan, he had always wanted to say this.

To tell Mio what he saw—that he wasn’t just Kairo’s shadow, that he could be more.

He remembered the comments online, the rumors, the fans who said Mio didn’t deserve his S-Class rank—that he was carried, that he was dead weight. But Eli knew better. The Hunter’s Association didn’t hand out S-Class rankings for pity. Mio earned it. He just wasn’t fighting like it.

And now, as Mio stared down at the threads glimmering between his fingers, Eli saw something spark behind his eyes.

A flicker of realization.

Of power.

Of possibility.

Mio didn’t say anything for a long moment. He stood there—silent, still, his eyes lowered to the faint shimmer of threads curling from his fingertips.

The dim blue light from the cavern walls reflected off them like strands of moonlight, trembling ever so slightly.

Eli watched him closely. Mio’s expression was hard to read, but something in the air had changed—subtle but real. That defeated weight in his shoulders had lifted, even if only a little.

’He’s thinking about it,’ Eli realized. ’He’s not arguing. He’s actually thinking about it.’

And if he was thinking about it... if he was even a little convinced...

Then maybe it was time.

For the first time since Kairo had been thrown, Eli felt his mind clear. The panic, the noise, the fear—they all dulled, replaced by a sharp focus that made his pulse quicken. It was like something had finally clicked into place.

For so long, every plan, every move had been built around Kairo. Every thought started and ended with him.

But now, stripped of that center, Eli could see the map differently—every piece, every potential path laid bare.

It wasn’t hopeless. It just needed direction.

"Do you have a plan?" Mio whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was softer this time—no sarcasm, no disbelief. Just quiet trust.

Eli’s lips twitched into a small smile. Not cocky, not careless—just sure. Confident in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

"Yes."