CHAPTER 161: [LET’S MAKE SOME TAKOYAKI]

"I still don’t fully get it, Eli." Mio’s voice was quiet, careful—like he was testing fragile ground. "So you want me to... be a close-range fighter? More like Kairo?"

Eli met his eyes and nodded once. "Not be Kairo. That’s impossible. But use what you are—only amplified, adapted. Your threads aren’t just traps. They’re blades, whips, shields. You already poke yourself with them when you push the edge. I saw the cut on your hand."

Mio’s fingers twitched reflexively; he hid his hand behind his back. "You noticed that?"

Eli laughed—soft, easy, the kind that cuts tension. "Of course I noticed. You’re not subtle. But that’s the point. You’ve been playing defense because someone else always finished the fight. Now the finish falls to us, and you don’t have to pretend your tools are small."

Mio’s mouth formed a half-smile, vulnerability settling into his posture. "It does work... I just never thought... I always used them to trap, to tether. That’s what I trained for."

"Then train differently, now." Eli folded his arms, not unkind. "In these situations you grow or you get swallowed. If I had threads like yours, or Mel’s vines, or Zaira’s illusions in better shape, I’d be more useful too. The System doesn’t hand out instructions; it hands out silence. We improvise."

Mio’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer as if the cave’s cold could be warmed by agreement. "You are useful, Eli," he said, steady.

Eli scoffed, but it was a small, pleased sound. "You don’t mean that."

Mio tilted his head, voice dropping. "I don’t even know what I said when I was under the octopus’ control. But... you were right in that argument with Kairo. And I’m someone who rarely thinks the captain’s wrong."

He offered a rueful, honest laugh. "No point lying—you’re smarter than I expected. For a rich kid with a bad rep."

Eli’s grin was involuntary. ’Ah yes. The curious case of Elione’s reputation,’ he thought, amused and a little proud. "Took you long enough to say it."

Mio’s expression turned earnest. "If this works—if you can make us think differently—then you’ve taught me something I missed my whole S-Class life. Not just me: Mel and Zaira, too. Maybe then we’ll be more than ’Kairo’s team.’"

Eli felt the weight in his chest ease a fraction. The plan was still risky, but if even one mind shifted, the odds changed. "We better make sure it works, then."

Mio extended his hand—firm, deliberate. Eli took it without hesitation; the shake was brief but meant more than words could say.

Mio chuckled, a crack of real humor at last. "Let’s make some takoyaki."

Eli trailed just a few steps behind Mio, his boots splashing through the cold, waist-deep water as the cavern trembled around them.

The sound of the octopus’s wails filled the air—a shrill, guttural noise that vibrated through the stone walls, through the water, through their bones.

The creature was thrashing now, its massive tentacles slamming into the water in panic as Zaira’s illusion clawed deeper into its mind. Each screech sounded more unhinged, more desperate.

And in front of him, Mio moved like a shadow cutting through chaos.

From both of his palms, hundreds of glowing threads erupted—thin, sharp, and deadly.

They shimmered under the faint light of the cavern, weaving and twisting with precise, deliberate movement as he advanced.

Eli could see it—how Mio’s hands shook at first, how his breathing was uneven—but then, as the threads responded to him, something shifted.

The hesitation vanished.

The threads became an extension of him.

"You can do this," Eli whispered, his voice barely audible above the crashing waves.

He meant it.

He wasn’t saying it just to reassure him—he believed it. Deeply.

’I’ve seen you fight before, Mio,’ he thought, eyes locked on the hunter’s back. ’You’ve always been strong... you just didn’t know it. You’ve always been hiding under Kairo’s shadow—but now, this is your stage.’

The air itself seemed to hum with energy as Mio raised both arms, the threads tightening and aligning into fine, razor-sharp cords. The faint glow of mana traced along them like lightning about to strike.

"For the captain," Mio murmured, his voice steady, but laced with emotion.

Eli’s chest tightened. He nodded firmly. "For Kairo."

Mio didn’t hesitate anymore. He sprinted forward, faster this time—water exploding around his legs, droplets catching the faint blue light as he moved.

Eli ran after him, matching his pace, feeling the heat of adrenaline mix with fear in his veins.

Ahead of them, the octopus let out another deafening scream, its enormous body writhing in pain and fury.

The vines holding it trembled under the strain, but Mel reinforced them immediately, his teeth gritted, his veins glowing green.

Zaira’s illusion still shimmered faintly across the water—a dark haze that wrapped around the monster’s head like a nightmare it couldn’t escape.

And in the midst of it all, Mio was closing in.

Eli’s eyes followed the threads spreading through the air around him—spinning, tightening, forming a deadly web that gleamed like silver fire.

The air split with the sound of slicing—sharp, clean, deadly.

Hundreds of threads shot forward from Mio’s hands, shimmering like strands of molten silver catching the faint light that flickered through the mist. Each line cut through the air with a high-pitched whip, so fast they blurred into arcs of pale light.

The water below them quivered under the sheer pressure of it, ripples spreading outward like shockwaves.

Mio charged ahead, every movement purposeful and precise—each step exploding through the shallow water, his body low, focused, untouchable. His face was set with determination, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. For the first time since the chaos began, he looked like a true S-Class hunter—no hesitation, no fear, no shadow of someone hiding behind their captain’s strength.

’He’s doing it...’ Eli thought, barely breathing as he followed behind. ’He’s really doing it.’

The octopus let out a guttural, bone-deep shriek that seemed to shake the cavern’s walls. It was no longer a monster’s cry—it was something alive, aware, terrified.

The sound hit Eli’s chest like a drumbeat. Waves surged outward from the creature’s massive form, slamming into the cavern walls hard enough to crack the stone. Fragments rained from above, hissing as they struck the ink-stained water.

But Mio didn’t falter.

He moved through the chaos, weaving death with his hands. His threads crossed and twisted in patterns too complex to follow—one motion anchoring, another slicing. Each shimmering line dug deep into the octopus’s wounded eye, then spiraled inward, cutting through the soft, quivering flesh.

The effect was immediate.

The monster convulsed violently, every tentacle curling and snapping like whips. Mel’s vines groaned under the pressure, some snapping apart, others digging in deeper, struggling to hold the beast down.

And then—black ink burst from the octopus’s body, a thick, suffocating cloud spreading fast across the water. The smell of iron filled the air.

It was trying to blind them, to drown them in darkness.

But it was far too late.

Eli stumbled back from the sheer force of the shockwave, arms raised to shield his face. "Keep going, Mio!" he shouted, voice raw from the echoing chaos. "Don’t stop—you’re already close!"

Mio didn’t answer. He didn’t even look back.

His arms were a blur, muscles straining as his hands moved in wide, fluid arcs—each flick sending a dozen new threads slicing forward, embedding deeper into the wound. The threads twisted, tightened, pulled.

The octopus screamed again, louder this time. The sound shattered through the air like glass, echoing through the cavern. The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath Eli’s feet.

He could feel it. The mana thickening. The air tightening. His danger sense pulsed faintly—no imminent death, but something was building. The octopus’s energy was rising, boiling, desperate.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Eli’s eyes darted downward—and there, half-buried beneath ink and broken stone, lay the sword.

Kairo’s sword.

Its crimson blade was dim but alive, faint flickers of red light pulsing through the weapon like a dying heartbeat. The sight of it hit Eli harder than he expected—something between hope and dread twisting in his chest.

He ran.

The cold water bit at his legs as he splashed forward, slipping once before regaining his balance. When he reached the blade, he dropped to one knee and reached for it with both hands.

The instant his fingers touched the hilt, a pulse ran up his arms—a faint, warm thrum like blood remembering its source.

Eli inhaled sharply. The sword’s glow flared for a moment, then settled, flickering weakly but steady.

It was heavy. Far heavier than he expected.

Almost as if it knew it wasn’t Kairo holding it.

Which was hilarious because it was his blood.

He exhaled slowly, the breath trembling in his throat as he tightened his grip around the hilt.

"Kairo... I hope you’re still alive," he whispered, the words barely leaving his lips. His voice broke into a whisper that was half a promise, half a plea. "We’re coming."

Behind him, the cavern thundered with another monstrous cry. The octopus’s voice tore through the air—low, broken, furious. It was no longer just a roar; it was agony.

Pure, visceral pain that made the water itself quiver as if the whole dungeon was screaming along with it.

Eli turned sharply. Mio was still moving, still fighting—his hands outstretched, threads glowing faintly against the dim light.

His entire body was soaked, shaking, but his eyes burned with wild, unflinching focus. Each movement was controlled chaos—violent precision wrapped in instinct.

"Mio!" Eli shouted above the noise, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Make it hurt more!"

For a single heartbeat, Mio’s eyes flicked back—just long enough to meet Eli’s. There was no hesitation there, no doubt. He gave a single sharp nod. Then his fingers began to move again, faster than before—sharp, fluid, merciless.

The threads embedded in the monster’s first wound shuddered, then twisted violently. A ripple of light spread through them like veins igniting.

They split—once, twice, then into hundreds of razor-thin lines, shooting outward like a storm of glimmering blades.

They tore across the creature’s face, slicing through the thick hide with a sound like silk ripping under pressure—beautiful and horrifying all at once.

Then, in one clean motion, they reached the other eye—

—and pierced it clean through.

The world exploded.

The scream that followed wasn’t just loud—it was earth-shattering. The entire chamber convulsed, water erupting like geysers, the walls vibrating from the sheer force of the sound. Eli staggered but held his ground, his teeth gritted against the pulsing waves of pressure.

It was deafening. It burned in his ears, shook in his bones. Every instinct screamed at him to cover his head, to fall back, to run—but he didn’t.

He stood still.

Watching.

Waiting.

Because beneath the chaos, he could feel it.

The monster was breaking.

Its movements had lost rhythm. Each thrash was weaker, desperate, disoriented—a beast that didn’t understand why it was losing. The air itself pulsed with its dying fury.

Eli raised his voice again. "Mel!"

That was all it took.

The water beneath him shifted—boiling with green light. A moment later, thick, living vines burst upward from the depths, coiling around Eli’s legs with enough force to lift him off the ground.

"Try not to fall, Eli!" Mel’s strained voice echoed below, filled with both fear and determination.

"I’ll try!" Eli shouted back, clutching the sword tighter as the vines lifted him higher and higher.

Cold mist whipped against his face. The world below blurred into motion—thrashing limbs, collapsing vines, crashing waves, and the glow of mana flickering through the dark.

From above, he could finally see it all.

Zaira, kneeling with trembling hands, her face ghostly pale as blue light pulsed between her fingers.

Her illusions crawled across the monster’s consciousness—Eli could see faint, distorted visions flickering over its head.

Shapes of people, of memories. Kairo’s figure among them—attacking, stabbing, again and again, like a phantom haunting its every thought.

The octopus flinched with every illusionary strike, roaring in fear and pain.

"I don’t think I can last... I’m... feeling dizzy!" Zaira gasped, her voice weak and slurred.

Eli’s heart clenched. "Hold on, Zai! Just a bit more!" Mio yelled back, not breaking focus.

Mio stood waist-deep in the blackened water, his arms slicing through the air. His threads flashed silver in the darkness, moving in perfect synchrony—each one sharp, deliberate, and deadly.

’Perfect control,’ Eli thought, chest tightening with awe. ’This is what it looks like when an S-Class stops holding back.’

And the octopus—

The monster was dying.

Its massive body writhed and shuddered, its skin pulsing under the strain. Steam hissed from the wounds, blood mixing with the ink that clouded the water.

It was still moving—but Eli could tell it was slowing down. The rhythm of its thrashing was faltering.

From above, he could see it clearly now—right beneath its cracked, heaving skull.

A faint glow.

Three distinct pulses, flashing weakly beneath the translucent flesh.

’Three hearts,’ Eli thought, his breath catching. ’Just like I said.’

But one stood out. Stronger, brighter, faster—right between the two ruined eyes.

The main heart.

"There you are..." he murmured, almost smiling.

The vines beneath him tightened, coiling around his boots to steady his balance. The sword in his hands began to hum faintly—warm, familiar, alive.

The crimson light along its edge flared, faint at first, then steady—pulsing in time with his own heartbeat.

’No, that’s...’ Eli smiles, holding onto the sword tightly.