Chapter 62: [SQUASH THE ROACH]

Time blurred into rhythm—an endless cycle of calls and motion.

“Left—two steps! Now, jump!”

Caelen obeyed instantly, boots detonating against fractured stone, his body pivoting midair. The golden cracks webbing across his skin blazed brighter, each one a vein of molten light straining against flesh.

The priest’s colossal hand carved down like a guillotine.

BOOOOM.

The ground split apart as if the earth itself had been cleaved, shards of shattered gargoyle bodies scattering in the wake. Dust geysered upward, choking the chamber, wings splintering to pieces before raining down like brittle ash.

Again and again, they repeated the deadly dance. Eli’s voice cracked like a whip across the battlefield, commanding sharp turns and brutal dodges. Caelen moved exactly as directed, each step tearing into stone, each leap burning streaks of golden light through the haze.

One by one, the gargoyles were crushed beneath the priest’s relentless swings—stone bodies crumbling into nothing but rubble and dust.

And then—

Silence.

The final gargoyle split apart, its head rolling once before disintegrating into fragments at Eli’s feet. The noise died, leaving only the low groan of shifting stone and the pendulum-sway of the priest’s rosary.

Eli’s throat burned from shouting. His chest heaved.

Caelen exhaled sharply, his grip still locked around Eli’s body, holding him tight as though refusing to let go even when the threat had passed. The cracks across his body pulsed violently with every breath, light flickering brighter, then dimmer, like a furnace on the verge of collapse.

“As much as you’re light, sweetheart…” Caelen’s voice rasped, low and raw, edged with fatigue. “…carrying you while dodging this long is killing me.”

Eli’s heart jolted. He blinked at him, guilt threading sharp through his chest. “…Then put me down.”

Caelen didn’t hesitate. His arms loosened, lowering Eli with deliberate care until his boots touched solid ground. Immediately, the knight straightened, shoulders rolling back with a heavy crack, free hand flexing as if shaking off invisible chains. His breaths were ragged, but he stood—unyielding.

They had cleared the gargoyles. At last.

But the priest still towered before them. Watching. Waiting.

Its rosary swayed idly, its massive frame hunched as though listening. Its glowing eyes never left Eli.

’We’ve cleared the pawns… but that doesn’t make this easier,’ Eli thought, his gaze narrowing. ’He still has both arms, and one of them is the rosary. Even if Caelen unleashes all that stored pain in one strike, there’s no way it’ll land clean if he’s ready to counter.’

Eli clenched his jaw, every nerve in his body screaming to think, to strategize—but his Danger Detection coiled like a blade at his throat.

’If I think too hard about him, he’ll attack again. Shit—how do I…’

Then it hit him.

What if he stopped thinking about the priest… and thought of something else?

Something filthier. Something beneath him.

Eli’s lip curled faintly as the thought bloomed.

’A roach. A giant, disgusting, stone-skinned roach.’

He pictured it—scuttling across the walls, twitching legs, bloated body dragging itself through the cracks. A vile insect swollen with filth. His chest constricted with disgust, his skin crawling at the thought.

And—

Nothing.

No pulse of danger. No movement. The priest didn’t react.

Eli’s breath caught. ’…It’s not responding. It doesn’t care if I think of it this way. It only reacts when I acknowledge it as the priest. As what it is. If I strip that away… if I reduce it to something lesser, then I can plan without triggering it.’

“Hey.”

Caelen’s gravel-edged voice cut through his racing thoughts. The knight’s molten gaze slid toward him, brows raised faintly. “What are you thinking about so hard that it stopped moving?”

Eli’s lips moved before his brain caught up. “…Roaches,” he muttered absently.

Caelen stilled. Blinked once. His cracked, golden-lit face twisted into disbelief. “…Roaches?”

Eli’s head snapped toward him, heat flashing across his ears. “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that—”

Caelen’s brow arched higher, his expression caught between exhaustion and absolute disbelief. “We’re one breath away from dying in this dungeon, and you’re standing there… thinking about bugs?”

Eli groaned into his hand, face burning hot. “Shut up. It’s working.”

“Enlighten me. What’s working?”

Caelen’s voice was gravel and heat, low but edged with challenge. He crossed his arms against his chest, broad shoulders blotting out half the rubble-strewn chamber as the golden cracks along his body pulsed like molten veins.

Eli exhaled slowly, forcing his nerves into check. He jerked his head toward the priest. The giant stood motionless, rosary swaying like the pendulum of some ancient clock, its glowing eyes locked unwaveringly on him.

“I’m trying to figure out,” Eli said, voice low but sharp, “how you can squash the roach.”

The word hissed from his tongue with venom.

For a heartbeat, Caelen just stared at him. Then his golden eyes widened slightly, realization flickering like a spark catching kindling. His smirk tugged wider. “…Oh. That’s very clever.”

Eli bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to gloat. ’I know.’

Instead, he pressed forward, steadying his breath. “You won’t be able to carry me anymore. But we both know it’ll keep targeting me—especially when I’m using my abilities to guide you. Even if I keep calling it a roach, it’s smart enough to realize I’m helping you set it up to die.”

The cracks along Caelen’s frame flared faintly with his next exhale, light licking across his jaw. He gave a single, firm nod. “True enough. For that—” his voice dropped, curling into something dark, almost playful, “—I do have a suggestion.”

Now, that was surprising.

Eli’s pulse stuttered. His brows knit tight, suspicion spiking sharp in his chest. “…What is it?”

That was when Caelen smiled.

Not the rare, soft curve of his lips Eli had seen outside this dungeon. Not the confident, battle-born smirk he wore in combat.

This was different.

A wolfish baring of teeth. Mischievous. Dangerous. Almost sadistic, like he’d been waiting for this moment.

Golden light crawled up the fissures of his skin as the smirk deepened, and his gaze locked onto Eli with a glint that made his stomach knot.

Eli’s breath hitched. His Danger Detection wasn’t reacting—no threat from the priest, no gargoyles, no ambush.

And yet—

A chill shot down his spine all the same.

Because the danger wasn’t from the dungeon.

It was from Caelen.

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