Chapter 115: [UNCONSCIOUS]

’Tch. They’re endless.’

Kairo’s chest screamed for air. His lungs burned raw, ribs pulled tight like a vice, every second underwater sharpening into a blade pressing against him.

Blood streamed freely from the wound in his arm, crimson ribbons swirling in the abyss. He forced them to obey—twisting, hardening, shaping into forms that tore the trench apart.

Needles glided through the water, whips snapped like serpents, shields locked around his body in a shifting carapace.

Every strike shredded translucent throats, splitting skulls of blue fire, scattering phantoms into clouds of mist—only to watch them reform again.

His sword swung wide, obsidian carving brutal arcs of red through the trench. Each slash bit deep, a flare of black mana and blood painting the water scarlet.

But every motion dragged heavier, fatigue clawing through his body.

Too much blood.

There was nothing to harvest from the phantoms—they had no substance, no flesh. Every weapon, every shield, every strike came from him.

’I’m going to die of blood loss at this rate.’

The weight pressed deeper in his veins with every command, every summon. His vision flickered at the edges, red creeping into black, warning him of collapse.

His blood-armor trembled as phantom hands raked his legs, dragging, whispering with voices that curdled against his ribs.

“You’ll drown.”

“You can’t save them.”

His teeth ground hard enough sparks of pain shot through his skull. He slashed downward, crimson needles punching into the hollow skulls of the things clinging to him.

Their shrieks rippled into the water, reverberating through bone and marrow, but he cut them again, again, until silence broke for just a second.

He kicked hard, forcing his body upward, then angled sharply sideways—toward the flash of silver threads flickering in the abyss. Mio.

His second-in-command fought like a cornered beast, movements sharp but panicked.

Threads lashed out in rapid arcs, slicing through water and shadow, but every strike cut nothing—smoke, mist, illusions.

The phantoms dragged him deeper, dozens of hands chaining his limbs.

Kairo’s body surged through the trench in brutal strides. Blood haloed around him, snapping outward in spikes that exploded into the swarm.

Phantom forms tore apart, blue eyes extinguished, clearing a bloody corridor as he closed in on Mio.

Mio’s eyes widened when he saw him. A bubble burst from his mouth, words drowned in the crushing dark.

Kairo shook his head once, black eyes burning. He clamped his free hand over Mio’s mouth to silence the panic.

The boy stiffened, but his shock flickered into composure immediately under his captain’s grip.

’We need to swim up before we all drown.’

Kairo didn’t waste another second. He shoved his sword forward, jamming the obsidian hilt hard into Mio’s chest until the weight of it pressed into his palms.

The younger hunter grabbed it instinctively, stunned by the gesture.

Kairo’s other hand snapped outward in command, a jab cutting through the water like a spear—pointing at Zaira and Mel’s drifting, unconscious bodies.

Their hair floated like pale banners in the dark, their bodies limp and sinking.

’Take them.’

Mio froze for a heartbeat, his threads twitching uselessly around him. Confusion clouded his face, panic and disbelief fighting for ground.

He opened his mouth, bubbles trailing upward—hesitation—

Kairo’s blood-threaded shield surged tighter around him, stabbing outward in violent bursts, forcing the swarm back a step.

His black eyes cut to Mio again, sharper, angrier, jabbing once more toward the unconscious forms.

’Now.’

Then Kairo jabbed a finger at himself—then past his chest. To Eli.

Mio’s gaze followed, eyes flicking to the boy’s frame thrashing in the distance.

Eli’s body looked smaller in the abyss, his eyes wide with panic, phantom arms wrapped around him like iron chains crushing his ribs.

His mouth gaped, bubbles streaming in frantic bursts as he fought against the crushing pull.

Realization struck.

Mio’s expression sharpened. He nodded once, fast and decisive. His grip locked harder around the obsidian hilt in his hands, knuckles paling as though it was the only anchor he had.

Threads flared from his fingertips, thin lines of silver flashing like lightning through the black.

They snapped outward, stretching toward Zaira and Mel’s sinking bodies. The cords wound tight around their limbs and torsos, anchoring them before the abyss swallowed them further.

But the phantoms didn’t let go.

They swarmed around Zaira’s limp frame, whispering into her ears with mouths that moved too close to her skin. Her pale blonde hair fanned through the water like silk, a halo dragged downward.

Mel was worse—his smaller frame pulled lower, twitching faintly as three, four phantoms clawed into him, skeletal hands digging deep.

Mio’s teeth bared, bubbles bursting from his mouth in silent fury. His threads yanked, straining, but every pull dragged the phantoms with them, their grips refusing to slip. The cords trembled, vibrating with tension, as though threatening to snap.

Kairo surged forward.

Blood roared out of his body in a violent torrent, ribbons splitting into needle clusters that darted like swarms of crimson arrows.

They speared into phantom skulls, ripping glowing blue eyes into scattered sparks.

He swung his arm wide, blood whips lashing like molten chains, tearing phantoms away from Zaira’s arms, Mel’s shoulders, their shrieks echoing directly into his skull.

’Good. Fewer than I expected. Passed out before the swarm reached them. They weren’t fighting back, so the phantoms didn’t dig as deep.’

Crimson flared, wrapping their unconscious forms in a protective barrier as Mio’s threads reeled them closer.

The silver cords vibrated violently under the strain, but with Kairo clearing the way, they slid free from phantom hands like blades cutting through knots.

Zaira’s body drifted upward in Mio’s grip, her pale lashes fluttering faintly though she remained unconscious. Mel hung slack, limp but breathing, bubbles slipping past his lips.

Kairo’s blood halo tightened, forming a vicious ring that lashed at every phantom drawing too close.

His chest burned, lungs howling for air, but his gaze stayed locked on Eli—still thrashing, still vanishing deeper into the swarm.

Kairo’s strokes tore through the water, every motion heavier than the last. His chest burned, vision flickering red at the edges, dizziness biting at his focus.

The blood he’d spent was catching up to him. His regeneration was fast—faster than any human should’ve been capable of—but it wasn’t infinite.

Every slash, every needle, every shield he’d made came from his own veins.

And the trench was still crawling with phantoms.

Their whispers pressed closer, sharper.

“Eli will die because of you.”

“You’ll never be able to save him.”

“He’s suffering right now because of you.”

Kairo’s jaw clenched, black eyes narrowing into blades. He ignored them. He had no time for phantoms whose words weren’t real.

There—Eli.

The hunter’s small frame was still, tangled in phantom arms that coiled around his chest like chains. His hair drifted in slow streams, bubbles escaping his slack lips in weak, uneven bursts.

Kairo’s blood swirled outward, the last of what he could muster snapping into jagged spears.

They tore through the phantoms clinging to Eli’s ribs, piercing their hollow skulls, shattering glowing blue eyes into dust. Their bodies dissolved into mist, swept away by the current.

He expected Eli to flail, to bolt upward like before. The boy had been thrashing non-stop, fighting even when it was useless. But instead—

Nothing.

Kairo’s chest tightened. He grabbed Eli by the shoulders, shaking once, hard.

The boy’s head lolled. His eyes were closed. His lips parted, bubbles escaping in a thin, fading stream.

’He’s unconscious?’

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