Chapter 160: [MAKE THAT PAIN REAL]

“Are we clear?”

Eli’s voice cut through the still, damp air—steady, calm, but with a quiet weight that made all three of them lift their heads.

Before him stood Zaira, Mel, and Mio. Their faces were pale from exhaustion and fear, lit faintly by the cold glow of the bioluminescent water around them.

The cavern was eerily silent except for the faint sound of the octopus breathing—its slow, guttural rhythm echoing from afar like the heartbeat of the dungeon itself.

Eli’s eyes moved from one face to the next.

Mel was the first to respond. His hand was trembling slightly where it rested on his thigh, but his voice was steady when he said, “Yes.”

Zaira swallowed hard, her fingers still curled tightly around Mel’s arm for reassurance. “Yes… yeah,” she managed, her voice soft but determined. “I think it’s clear.”

Eli’s gaze shifted to Mio last. The vice-captain’s jaw was tense, his silver hair damp and sticking to his face.

For a moment, he didn’t answer—his expression conflicted, as if the weight of Kairo’s absence was pressing down on him more than he wanted to admit. But then, slowly, Mio closed his eyes and exhaled.

When he opened them again, there was something resolute there.

“Yes,” Mio said finally. His lips twitched into a faint, confident smile. “We… we can do this. For the Captain. For Kai.”

Eli smiled back, the corner of his mouth lifting—not in arrogance, but in quiet pride.

After their talk, he’d gathered them all and explained what needed to be done. At first, there had been resistance—hesitation born from fear, exhaustion, and disbelief.

But once Mio had agreed, the others followed. It wasn’t easy convincing them, but it was enough. They didn’t have time for doubt.

The plan was reckless. Dangerous. But right now, it was the only way.

And since the System refused to speak, refused to guide or even warn him, Eli decided he’d rely on something else—his instincts. His mind. His will.

If Kairo had always been the sword, then Eli would be the hand that guided it.

“Right now,” Eli began, his tone focused, “the octopus is still tending to its wound. It’s distracted, maybe even in pain. I haven’t sensed any danger for a while, so it’s not planning to attack yet.” He pointed toward the shadowed figure in the distance. The massive creature still lingered near the center of the cavern, one tentacle pressed against its injured eye, dark liquid trailing down like tears.

Eli’s jaw tightened. “We hit it before it recovers.”

The others exchanged looks—tense but resolute.

“You all know the formation,” Eli continued, glancing at each of them again. “Mel first—you’ll use your vines to restrain any sudden movement.

Zaira next, you’ll use your illusions to cover his advance. Mio, you go after her—time your threads to follow Mel’s direction, strike fast and pull back immediately. And then…”

He paused, his eyes shifting toward the far side of the cavern. The spot where Kairo had stood before being thrown.

The water there shimmered faintly, and sticking out from the surface was a single dark object—the blade Kairo had forged from Eli’s blood.

Eli’s heart clenched. The sight of it hit him harder than he expected.

’He dropped it… when he got taken.’

He exhaled slowly. “…Then me.”

He didn’t have the raw strength of the others, and his ability wasn’t offensive. But he could think. He could plan. And right now, that was what they needed most.

Everyone had a role—and this time, not one of them would be left behind.

Eli straightened, squaring his shoulders. The flicker of doubt in his chest was still there, but he buried it under resolve. He looked at them all again—Mio, Zaira, Mel—and gave a small nod.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “But keep your movements light. Don’t make it notice you.”

They nodded, one after another.

And then, slowly, they began to move—silent and deliberate—through the shallow water, the faint ripples trailing behind them as they crept closer toward the massive shadow that waited in the dark.

Eli glanced one last time at the sword embedded in the ground, its blood-red sheen glinting faintly beneath the surface.

’Kairo… just hang on.’

Eli kept moving, the sound of water sloshing quietly beneath his boots. The air around them had grown heavier—thicker somehow—as if the cavern itself was holding its breath.

Ahead, the faint glow of the octopus shimmered like a living storm cloud, its massive form still trembling faintly with every sluggish pulse.

He motioned for the others to go first. “Go on,” he murmured. His voice was calm, but his pulse wasn’t. “You three move ahead. I’ll follow once you start.”

They nodded, and one by one, stepped in front of him—Mio first, then Zaira, then Mel at the lead. Each of them looked tense, but focused.

Eli hung back just a little, watching their steps cut faint ripples into the inky water. He needed to time his move after theirs—only when their attacks began would his own plan matter.

The octopus loomed ahead, unmoving for now. One tentacle still pressed over its ruined eye, its body trembling faintly like it was grieving its pain.

’Still distracted… good.’

Eli’s eyes flicked toward Mel. “You start,” he whispered.

Mel turned to him briefly, his expression tightening. He took a deep breath, nodding once before facing forward again.

They were far enough to stay out of the monster’s range—but close enough that Mel’s power could reach.

As Eli watched him raise his arm, his mind drifted for a moment—to their earlier conversation.

He’d spoken to Mel privately, before they moved. Back when Mel’s voice was trembling, when his eyes wouldn’t meet anyone’s.

“You fight too much like Mio,” Eli had told him then. “Always trying to restrict your target, not destroy it. Your vines have potential, Mel. They can do more than just hold things still.”

Mel had blinked, caught off guard. “More than restraining?”

Eli had nodded. “Yes. You can attack with them—just like Kairo. You can harden the vines, shape them, turn them into shields or blades if you push your mana right. I’ve seen the way they grow from the ground—you can control their thickness, right?”

Mel hesitated before answering. “I do… but we never needed more than what I usually do.”

Eli had smiled faintly. “Then today’s the day you change that. We need more than what you usually do.”

“Mel, wrap bigger, thicker vines around each of the tentacles,” Eli ordered, his voice calm but firm. His eyes didn’t leave the monster’s massive form as he spoke.

Mel nodded without hesitation, spreading both palms forward. His breathing deepened, mana pulsing through his veins, lighting them faintly green beneath his skin.

The vines around the cavern floor began to stir—first a tremor, then a rumble—as they surged upward like living beasts.

The octopus twitched, startled. Its remaining eye darted wildly as the familiar sensation of being bound returned.

At first, it looked almost the same as before—thick vines wrapping around its limbs, coiling and pulling tight. But this time, the pressure was different. Denser. Heavier. The vines groaned under their own strength, their surfaces covered in jagged thorns that dug deep into the creature’s flesh.

The octopus convulsed violently, water erupting from beneath it as it thrashed, trying to break free. But Mel didn’t stop.

“Make them thicker!” Eli called out. His tone sharpened, his focus locked entirely on the beast. “Don’t just hold it—hurt it. Use the spikes. And then…”

He paused for only a second, just long enough for his eyes to meet Mel’s. “…Mimic it. Make your vines move like it. Attack it head-on. Even if it doesn’t kill, disorient it.”

Mel’s jaw clenched, sweat beading on his temple. “Got it!”

He slammed his hand against the ground. Instantly, dozens of new vines erupted from below, larger and thicker than before—like the tentacles of another creature rising from the depths to challenge the octopus.

They twisted and lashed forward, striking against the monster’s slick body with wet, echoing smacks.

The octopus shrieked. A deep, guttural sound that made Eli’s skin crawl. It wasn’t supposed to be able to make a noise like that—it didn’t even have lungs—but somehow, it did.

The cavern shook from the force of it, water splashing violently around them.

Eli didn’t flinch. He’d expected it. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, watching every twitch of the creature’s body.

Then its eye—its one surviving eye—snapped toward him.

That enormous, unblinking gaze locked directly on him. The air seemed to thicken around him, and for a split second, Eli’s breath caught in his throat.

’It’s looking at me.’

His heartbeat quickened, but he didn’t look away. If it was angry, good. Let it be. He needed its attention divided.

“Zaira,” Eli said, his voice softer now as he turned toward her.

Zaira flinched. Her face was pale, her hands trembling where they clutched her chest. “I… I don’t know if I can,” she stammered. “That’s an S-Class… I’ve never used my ability like this before, I—”

Eli stepped closer and placed a hand gently on her arm. Her skin was cold, trembling under his touch.

“Remember what I told you earlier?” he said quietly, his tone steady and reassuring.

“It’s too strong to fully trick,” Zaira said, her voice shaking. Her hands trembled as the faint blue glow around her palms flickered unsteadily. “I already tried earlier… I was only able to calm it down a bit, but it knows—”

“If it knows,” Eli interrupted softly, “then use more negative emotions than positive.”

Zaira blinked, confused. “But… aren’t I supposed to calm it down?”

Eli shook his head, his expression firm but gentle. “Not this time.” He stepped closer, his voice lowering, careful not to draw the octopus’s attention. “In this situation, we don’t need to soothe it—we need to disarm it. Look at it right now.”

Zaira hesitated, glancing past him. The octopus was still writhing weakly against Mel’s massive vines, its remaining eye glistening as a trail of thick, inky fluid dripped from it like tears. The sight was grotesque, yet eerily… pitiful.

“It’s crying,” Eli continued quietly, his tone almost thoughtful. “It’s grieving its pain. I know your illusions usually make monsters calm down—make them see what they want to see—but this isn’t about that. Somehow… I think they can feel emotions too.”

He looked at her directly, his yellow eyes sharp even through the dim light. “Your illusions don’t just change what they see, Zaira. They change what they feel. That means—”

Zaira’s breath hitched, realization dawning on her face. “I should use how it feels right now?”

“Exactly.”

Zaira closed her eyes and drew a slow, steady breath. When she nodded, it was small but certain. “Yes. I remember.”

Eli kept his voice low, every word measured. “Use the pain. Make it think it’s feeling more—make it fixate on that hurt so it ignores Mel’s vines.”

She gave a tiny, resolute smile and stepped past Mel, moving into the shallow black water with careful, silent steps. The cavern’s air seemed to tighten as she walked—like the world itself was leaning in to watch.

Instead of the usual bright, silvery mist she favored, Zaira’s aura seeped out like smoke turned to night.

Dark clouds unfurled from her palms, a living shadow that swallowed the faint glows around them.

The blackness didn’t just drift; it crawled through the water, writhing tendrils of mist that tasted of iron and old wounds.

When the cloud touched the octopus, the change was immediate.

Its single eye ballooned, the pupil pinning down to a razor point. The huge body that had been resigned and slow a moment before snapped awake, tentacles whipping as it lunged not at them but blindly toward the phantom source of agony.

Mel’s vines tightened and creaked under the force, but the monster’s motions were no longer coordinated—they were frantic, scattered.

’It’s feeling it,’ Eli thought, his pulse banging against his ribs.

The octopus wasn’t reacting to sight—Zaira’s illusion didn’t try to trick the eyes. It reacted to sensation. Its head pulsed faster, a shuddering rhythm that ran along its flesh like an electric current.

Every ripple of the water carried the sound of a monster in pain—an odd, animal keening that made Eli’s teeth ache.

“It’s working,” Zaira whispered, awe and fear threading her voice. Her hands trembled, the dark mist around them writhing like a living thing.

Eli didn’t smile. He felt something step into the space beside him.

Mio.

The vice-captain’s face had set into a mask—sharp, disciplined, absolutely focused. He looked at Eli, and in that look was an entire language: ready, waiting, hungry for the order.

“Right now,” Eli told him, barely audible over the thudding of the monster’s pulse, “the octopus believes there’s a wound it can’t reach. It’s feeling phantom pain where Kairo stabbed it.”

He turned so his words hit Mio like a physical thing. “It’s time to make that pain real.“

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep