Chapter 116: [WHAT DID YOU SEE?]

’Did he pass out while I swam here?’ Kairo thought as his arm shot out, seizing Eli by the torso.

But the instant his hand locked on—Eli moved.

The boy jerked violently, thrashing in blind panic, limbs flailing against him. His hands shoved weakly, desperately, as if Kairo himself were the enemy.

’Fuck—!’ Kairo cursed inwardly, tightening his grip before Eli could slip free.

The boy’s frantic struggling churned the water into a storm, bubbles bursting around them. Kairo wanted to bark at him, to shout stop, but no words could pierce the suffocating trench.

Eli’s face twisted in pure despair, eyes screwed shut, chest convulsing as though he were screaming—yet all that escaped was froth and air.

His arms lashed out, fingers clawing, clutching at nothing—sometimes raking over Kairo’s own arm as though mistaking him for someone else.

’Could it be the phantoms? Are they showing him something…?’

The thought coiled in Kairo’s mind like poison. The way Eli reached out—grasping at invisible figures, choking on a cry that never left his throat—wasn’t just panic.

He was seeing something.

Something Kairo couldn’t.

No time. He dragged Eli upward, muscles burning, chest searing with the need for air. Above, Mio was a flailing silhouette of silver, already nearing the surface.

His threads stretched taut, tethered to Zaira and Mel’s limp forms, hauling them like anchors through the water.

Kairo forced his body higher, but the phantoms weren’t gone.

They gathered.

Dozens of them. All those faint blue eyes, once scattered, now converged.

And every single one of them turned—not toward Mio. Not toward the unconscious forms.

Toward Eli.

’What the hell is happening…?’

The swarm closed in, a noose of pale hands and hollow mouths whispering.

But Kairo’s blood answered first—threads lashing outward in a violent bloom, slicing into the tide before it could close.

Each lash tore phantoms apart in bursts of smoke and light, their shrieks stabbing into his skull.

The swarm faltered, but it didn’t retreat. It circled, drawn by Eli like moths to a flame.

Kairo grit his teeth, black eyes narrowing. His blood armor trembled under the strain, crimson boiling hotter, surging out to hold them back.

He anchored Eli against him, one arm locked around the boy’s chest as he swam, the other free to slash.

But Eli…

Even unconscious, his face was tight with anguish, teeth clenched, brows drawn. His arms still twitched, hands clawing at the water, sometimes clutching weakly at Kairo’s forearm as though grasping a lifeline. His whole body screamed distress, even as his eyes stayed shut.

’What are you seeing, Eli…?’

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Darkness.

Eli’s lungs seized, chest spasming as if an iron band had clamped tight around him.

No air. No breath.

Just the raw, crushing weight of suffocation.

He knew this place.

His stomach twisted, a sickness that spread up his ribs like fire ants.

This wasn’t new—this wasn’t strange.

This was the nightmare. The same one that had clawed into his sleep so many nights before.

’No… not again. Not here.’

A hand closed around his throat.

The grip was merciless, thick fingers locking like iron bands, nails digging so deep they carved fire into his skin.

Every pulse of his heartbeat slammed desperately into that stranger’s palm, wild, panicked, erratic.

’Stop! Where… why… who is doing this?!’

His own arms rose sluggishly, weak and heavy like they weren’t even his. His nails scratched at nothing, passing through shadow, never finding any human.

Darkness bled deeper, pressing over his eyes like a blindfold.

And then—

Drip.

A bead of water streaked down his cheek.

Then another.

Then another.

Not cold.

Not water.

Tears.

He could feel them, tracing hot paths over his skin, too warm against the suffocating void. Each one landed heavy, weighted with grief that didn’t belong to him.

And with them came a voice.

Low.

Breaking.

A man’s voice, whispering into his ear, close enough it scraped like glass dragged against bone.

“…sorry…”

“…I have to do this…”

“…There’s no other way…”

Over and over. The same apology, repeated until it drilled into his skull like a curse.

’Why?!’ Eli tried to scream, tried to claw the words free, but his throat only convulsed under the crushing grip. No sound escaped. No voice. Nothing but the burn in his chest.

’Please, whoever you are. Please stop. I’m… I’m not Elione. Please.’

His lungs screamed. Fire tore through his ribs, every nerve shrieking for air. His mouth opened wide, desperate, but the world gave him nothing.

No air.

No breath.

Only the voice.

“…sorry… sorry… sorry…”

The hand squeezed harder. Nails carved deeper, until his throat burned raw, as if his flesh were being peeled away strip by strip.

His body convulsed, every muscle thrashing violently, his jaw splitting wide from the useless, soundless screams clawing to escape.

And then—

The voice shifted.

No longer just grief. It bent, warped. Softer, but twisted, as if the man wasn’t apologizing anymore—he was trying to convince Eli.

As if forcing him to accept the lie.

“…I love you…”

“…You know I love you, right?…”

“…I’m sorry…”

Eli froze. His body locked, but his mind spun apart under the weight of those words. The hand on his throat was iron, the apology cutting like a blade, sinking deeper into him.

His chest convulsed, lungs burning like fire. His vision blurred, the darkness tipping and twisting around him.

Until—

“Eli!”

A voice.

“Eli, wake up! Come on!”

Pressure slammed into his chest, not the phantom’s hand but something real, heavy and repeated. It drove into his ribs, jolting his lungs, commanding them to work, forcing breath to return.

“Eli, wake up. Wake up!”

Kairo—?!

His eyes snapped open.

Eli gasped, a violent choke ripping from his throat as air and water tore free together.

His body shot upright like a bowstring loosed, hands clawing at the ground, sucking in ragged, broken breaths.

“Eli!” That was Mio’s voice—high, frantic, relieved.

But Eli couldn’t answer. Not yet.

His chest convulsed again. Water surged from his mouth, a flood spilling over his lips, choking him as it poured out. His arms shook, palms pressing into cold stone as his body heaved, coughing hard enough to burn.

’Fuck—!’ Eli thought, eyes stinging, throat raw.

A hand pressed against his back, firm and steady. A rough strike, then another—helping force the water free.

He coughed harder, his body jerking forward, and more water spilled, splattering into the black pool beneath him.

Finally, he dragged in air. Shaky.

But air.

His blurred vision cleared just enough to see him—Kairo, kneeling beside him, close enough that his shadow eclipsed the drone light.

His black eyes bore down on him, steady, unflinching, as if daring him to collapse again.

“Kai—” Eli’s voice cracked, shredded, only a syllable before his throat locked.

“Don’t speak.” Kairo’s voice cut across him immediately, deep and absolute, leaving no room for protest.

His palm stayed braced firm between Eli’s shoulders. “You don’t have to talk yet. Just breathe. Take it in. Focus on that.”

Eli nods in agreement as he thought. ’My chest hurts so much.’

Eli was still shaking, his body jerking with every ragged breath. The taste of water clung bitter on his tongue, the memory of drowning and suffocating branded into his lungs like fire.

He couldn’t stop trembling, even with Kairo steadying him—one broad hand pressed firm and grounding against his back.

“Breathe,” Kairo said, voice low but commanding. “Steady. You’re alright.”

Eli tried. Inhale—exhale. His chest hitched, convulsions rattling through him, but little by little, the air stayed. The burning dulled just enough for thought to return.

Kairo’s black eyes swept between him and the restless water. “Those things that dragged us down… they weren’t illusions. They felt too real. Phantoms. That’s what I’ll call them. They drown you with voices.”

“Phantoms?” Eli rasped, his throat raw. The word churned in his mind. He remembered now—right before being pulled under, when his ability screamed danger, he had heard a voice. A voice that hooked into him, then dragged him down.

’So those were… phantoms?’ His stomach twisted. These weren’t in any records.

Mio cut in, his tone clipped, voice shaking with strain. “Whatever they are, Zaira and Mel are still out cold. And Mel—” His jaw clenched tight. “He looks bad. Too pale. Too weak. If we don’t get him help soon…”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

“The only way out is forward,” Mio said, his eyes sharp but strained. “We kill the boss. That’s the only way the gate reopens.”

Kairo nodded once, calm even in the thick tension. “But remember—the leeches are still around. And the phantoms… we don’t know their numbers.” His hand shifted on his sword, obsidian edge glinting faintly. “We can’t walk blind. We need a plan.”

Eli parted his lips, but nothing came out. His head still spun, his body trembling from the cold and from the nightmare that clung to him like shackles.

Kairo’s gaze snapped to him. “Eli.” His tone sharpened, cutting through the haze. “What did they show you? The phantoms. What did you see?”

’What…did I see? Why is he asking me that?’

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep