Chapter 197: [LITTLE NOODLE]

’Fuck. It’s really here.’

Eli stood there on the cold kitchen tile, back pressed against the cabinet, hand trembling violently beneath the warm, tiny weight curled in his palm.

The creature glowed faintly—soft blues and purples shimmering like a heartbeat—its body no bigger than a long noodle.

And still, Eli couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dreaming.

Or hallucinating.

Or finally losing his mind after everything that happened.

Because he saw it die.

A giant serpent—an SS-Class monster—had been blown apart in front of him.

He saw the explosion.

He saw the chunks.

He saw the slime.

He saw it fall apart like any monster would—

But apparently, they didn’t kill it.

Not really.

They killed its size.

Not its existence.

Eli swallowed, throat tight, staring at the tiny creature curled into his palm like some kind of smug, glowing pet.

An SS-Class boss surviving wasn’t impossible—far from it.

Especially since this serpent was the first SS-Class boss in existence.

However, because this is the first SS-Class boss, it wasn’t just unheard of—but downright terrifying—was how it was here.

On Aerth.

In his apartment.

Hours after the dungeon collapsed.

Hours after the guilds returned home.

Hours after the exit gate closed.

’How…?’

“How are you here?” Eli whispered, lifting the glowing noodle-serpent closer to his face, eyes wide.

“How did you get out? Did you follow us? Did you sneak out of the dungeon? Why did you only show yourself now? Or—”

The creature wriggled excitedly and cut him off with a squeaky hiss.

“—Ssshh!”

Eli blinked at it.

“That’s not an answer.”

The serpent wiggled again, even more excited.

“Sssshh!!”

“Okay, so you’re… very happy right now,” Eli muttered tiredly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Out of every monster in any dungeon that could’ve attached itself to me, it just had to be the derpiest one in existence.”

The serpent puffed up proudly—actually puffed up—tiny sparks flickering along its scales like it was showing off.

Eli closed his eyes for a moment.

God.

If it hadn’t electrocuted him, nearly eaten him, or dragged him across a forest, he might’ve admitted—

It was cute.

Stupidly cute.

Unfairly cute.

Even now, when Eli tried to question it—serious, important questions—it responded with the same excited, useless noises:

“Hss!”

“Sshhh!”

And then—

“O…ri…on.”

That one always made Eli freeze.

Every single time.

He frowned faintly, staring at the creature whose eyes seemed to glow a little brighter whenever it said the name.

“Is that all you can say? Orion?”

The serpent perked up instantly—tail looping around his thumb, head tilting with intense, eager energy.

Eli felt something heavy settle in his chest.

The name wasn’t just a name anymore.

It felt weighted.

Dangerous.

Like he’d stumbled onto something he shouldn’t have.

Like everything—the serpent, the lab, the system glitching, the memories—was tied to that name.

’I’ve stumbled upon something huge…’

Eli inhaled slowly, forcing himself to breathe evenly despite the pounding in his chest. Then—carefully, gently—he cupped the little serpent with both hands and brought it close against his sternum.

He stood up shakily.

“Come here,” he murmured. “I… I need to show you something.”

Eli walked toward his bedroom, stepping carefully around the scattered pans and spoons—the trail of chaos left behind by the tiny, worm-sized serpent now perched on his palm.

It slithered in slow circles across his hand, lifting its little head to inspect every corner like it was sightseeing in a foreign land.

“Don’t knock anything else over,” Eli muttered under his breath.

The serpent responded with a soft, innocent “Hss?” as if it had no idea what he meant.

Eli exhaled deeply.

’I’m babysitting an SS-Class monster… in noodle form. Great.’

He knelt beside his bed, lifting the edge of the comforter.

The faint gleam of the picture frame caught his eye—still tucked in the shadows where he had shoved it earlier.

For some reason, his heart gave a single, heavy thump when he saw it.

Like something important was about to unfold.

He reached under with one hand, fingers brushing the cool metal, and pulled it out. The serpent stayed balanced perfectly in his other palm, watching him with glowing blue eyes, little body coiled like an eager spectator.

“Here,” Eli said softly, turning the photo toward the creature.

The reaction was instant.

The tiny serpent shook.

Its whole body trembled like a wind-up toy that suddenly overloaded with excitement. Then—

It jumped.

An actual jump.

A tiny, glowing, noodle-sized SS-Class serpent jumped in his hand.

“SssHHH!! SSSHHHHH!!!”

“Whoa—HEY—calm down!!” Eli nearly dropped both the serpent and the frame as he tightened his grip so it didn’t yeet itself across the room. “What—what does that mean?! Stop squirming!”

The serpent smacked its tail repeatedly against his palm, vibrating like an overstimulated puppy.

“O…ri…on!!”

Eli stared at the creature.

Then at the picture.

Then back at the creature.

“…So this is Orion,” he whispered.

The serpent nodded so fast it nearly fell over.

Then—slowly, sweetly—it leaned forward and pressed its tiny glowing head against the cracked glass, nuzzling the image of the man like it had finally found something precious it thought lost forever.

Eli’s throat tightened painfully.

He already suspected… but seeing it confirmed…

Seeing the serpent react this strongly…

It felt different.

He looked at the man in the photo more closely.

White hair.

Bright yellow eyes.

A smile too warm, too genuine, too alive for a dungeon.

“That’s really him,” Eli murmured, barely able to swallow. “The Orion you meant. The one from the lab. The one you were looking for.”

The serpent curled around his fingers again—tighter this time—its tiny body trembling with something soft, almost… emotional.

Eli stared at it silently.

Monsters weren’t supposed to feel things like this.

Weren’t supposed to have this kind of loyalty.

Weren’t supposed to mourn or wait or look for someone.

“This doesn’t make sense…” Eli whispered. “You’re a dungeon monster… and he’s—he was—a human.”

The serpent lowered its head—almost like it understood the weight of that truth—and then lifted it again proudly, as if the answer didn’t matter.

As if connection was connection.

As if it didn’t need logic.

Eli felt something twist in his chest.

“Are you actually… a monster?” he whispered.

The serpent tilted its head and—shockingly—puffed itself up a little.

Proud.

Relieved.

Eli had to look away for a moment, breath catching. He sank down onto the floor, leaning against the bed, the serpent curled in his palm and the photo frame resting across his knees.

He stared at Orion’s smile again—the soft curve of it, the brightness in his eyes.

“…Okay,” he whispered. “Then let’s start figuring this out. Together.”

Because he had questions.

Too many.

The dreams.

The choking hands.

The voice calling him my Orion.

The system glitching at the name “Orion.”

His heart lurched.

“…Shit. The system.”

He hadn’t checked it since leaving the dungeon.

He straightened abruptly.

“SYSTEM?” Eli called out loud, making the serpent jump in confusion.

And then—

Ding.

A translucent blue screen materialized right in front of his face.

’So, the system’s back with no more glitches.’

Eli exhaled in relief—finally, something familiar—he leaned forward, ready to read—

But then he froze.

Because the serpent…

Its little head turned.

Its glowing eyes widened—

And it looked directly at the floating system screen.

Eli’s breath stopped.

“…Wait.”

The serpent tilted its head.

Looked at the screen again.

Then at Eli.

Eli stared back, horror creeping slowly up his spine.

“You… can see it?” he whispered.

The serpent blinked once.

Then twice.

Then lifted its tiny head proudly and nodded.

And in the softest, most innocent hiss Eli had ever heard, it responded:

“Ssshh.”

It wasn’t random.

It wasn’t confused.

It wasn’t excited.

This time, the tiny serpent’s eyes were fixed—absolutely fixed—on the glowing blue system window floating in the air.

Eli’s breath stuttered.

His heart dropped so fast it felt like it fell through the floor.

“…Oh my god,” he whispered, voice trembling. “You can see it. You—”

He pointed at the translucent panel, his hand shaking.

“You can see the system.”

The serpent blinked.

Then nodded.

NODDED.

Eli’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t possible. This wasn’t even in the realm of impossible. This was something beyond anything he understood.

Because monsters…

Monsters never reacted to the system.

Hunters like Kairo and Caelen couldn’t see the screen.

Even the strongest guild masters couldn’t detect the system that seemed so powerful.

It was only Eli.

There was only ever him.

And yet here was a tiny, electric noodle of a serpent—

Tilting its head at the system’s window.

Reading it?

Understanding it?

Eli’s pulse hammered painfully against his ribs.

“H-How… how…” he whispered, even though he knew the serpent wouldn’t be able to reply with anything more than a hiss. “How can you…?”

He swallowed, turning his gaze back to the system—the only thing that might give him an answer.

“System,” Eli said slowly, his voice cracking. “How is the serpent able to—?”

But the words died in his throat as soon as he looked at what was on the screen.

And Eli froze.

“What?”

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