Elion was in bad shape. He had multiple broken ribs and could barely stand. Leonard didn't look much better. She bore physical wounds, and the foreign blood rampant in her body was anything but benign. Most of her damage, however, was psychological.
Because of her weakness, she had nearly killed several people in the group. No one would hold it against her—like Eshrod said, it wasn't her fault—but guilt would gnaw at her all the same.
"We need to get to the others before anything happens. We've wasted enough time already," Lumos said.
Elion nodded, wiped the blood from his sword, and sheathed it.
They retraced their steps. Now that Kellta was in a better state, she used her flames to light the way. The underground part of the castle was appalling. It felt like walking through the belly of some giant creature. Flesh lined the walls, covering most of the cracked stone.
The stench was putrid, making Elion dizzy—or maybe that was just his wounds. He wasn't sure anymore. He walked slowly, clutching his side. The threads that made up his body were darker and damaged; even with his newly acquired First Finger physique, healing would take time.
They reached the water tank. No new horrors had ambushed them, but the crimson water still blocked their way.
This time Elion could see the tiny organisms scattered everywhere. Before, he probably couldn't because his ability lacked precision. Only when the microorganisms gathered in great numbers near the body did he notice them. But with the First Finger's precision, he now saw every detail of the water—every tiny creature infesting it.
Would've been nice to have that before we dove in…
He walked along the narrow ledge by the moat. The stone was crumbling and precarious, but with careful steps—and his ability guiding him to firmer footing—he made it across.
He looked toward the sewer tunnel they had used in their unfortunate dive into the cursed water.
Sure enough, the others were still waiting. It had been about an hour—time spent reaching the First Finger, planning the fight against the Class V's minion, then fighting and returning.
"See? I told you they'd be fine," Elion said, glancing at Eshrod.
The Gremlin didn't respond. Her gaze was fixed on Talom. Ironman was pacing anxiously, but when he saw Elion's group, relief washed over his face.
But something was off. The young cook squinted, using his ability. Talom waved to announce his presence, Hela and Alphons stood up behind him, looking at them with what could pass as hope on their blank and traumatized faces.
What is that?
A mass of chromatic threads was closing in behind them.
Don't they sense it? Why are they just standing there like idiots?
"Leonard, electrify the water," Elion commanded.
"What? Why?" she asked, confused.
"Just do it."
She raised an eyebrow but obeyed, the urgency in his voice enough to convince her. A bolt of lightning cracked into the crimson water, frying the tiny particles of chromatic light and turning them black.
It wasn't nearly enough to make the water safe—but they didn't have time.
Elion took a deep breath.
"Jump, you idiots!" he shouted.
The distance shredded his voice into an unrecognizable blur.
"Did you just say 'jump'? Are you crazy?" Leonard blurted out.
"We don't have time. If they don't jump, they're dead," Elion snapped.
He was about to shout again when Eshrod pulled a small, puck-like device from her pocket. She yelled into it, and her voice boomed across the chamber, amplified a thousandfold into a deafening roar. She had kept the device she'd once used to lure the High Lord out of her base in the time loop.
That was enough to warn them—but not enough to break their fear.
"Behind you!" Elion barked, grabbing the device from her hands.
Talom had just begun to turn when a tendril of flesh erupted behind him, piercing Alphons clean through the chest.
Shit…
Elion gritted his teeth.
Powerful tentacles unfurled, flinging drops of crimson like a cursed octopus. Each limb was as sharp as a bayonet, aimed directly at the three new unlocked.
Ironman froze, horrified, as Alphons toppled into the crimson water. Talom barely had time to harden his skin before another tendril slammed into him, throwing him to the ground.
Hela was about to be ensnared, but Talom was competent enough not to let that happen. He tackled her and dragged them both down into the water.
Elion clenched his jaw and dove in after them. He wouldn't get infected with the parasite since he was now a First Finger, but it was still going to hurt.
His wounds were killing him, but he wasn't going to let them die. It was supposedly his fault after all…
Fuck, why am I doing this? I don't even care about those three.
He swam to Alphons, who was unconscious, slowly drowning, with a hole gaping in his chest. Elion dragged him toward the entrance, his skin burning like fire in the cursed water.
"Lumos!" he gasped.
The sorcerer understood, cleansing the four of them with his runes. Cold water washed away the organisms chewing at their skin.
Talom and Hela had inhaled some of the parasites, but they would survive—if they reached the First Finger quickly.
Alphons, though…
His breaths grew weaker with every moment. The gaping chest wound was already fatal—and with the flesh-eating parasites festering in it, his chances of survival were nonexistent.
"We need to bring them to the First Finger. Fast," Elion said, clutching Alphons's limp body.
"Totally fine, huh…" Eshrod muttered.
"They were, until now."
"Enough fighting. Move!" Kellta barked.
Eshrod grabbed Talom, who was already coughing up blood while the fire-wielding imp carried Hela.
They rushed through the castle's underground. With the abomination defeated, the path was clear. Talom and Hela managed to reach the device in time, becoming First Fingers.
Elion, frantic, pressed Alphons's hand against the podium—but the device refused to activate.
"Goddammit, work!"
He slammed a boot into the base. It was no use. Alphons was already gone.
"Fuck!"
Why do I care? Why do I care so much? I didn't even know him. I never really talked to him.
So why does it hurt so goddamn much to see him die?
Elion clawed at his pale hair, streaking it crimson with the blood on his hands.
Was it because he was under my command? Did he die because of me?
He had seen Bright Light die—he hadn't really cared. That man had been nothing more than a path to the First Finger. He had watched Joart die countless times, often by his own blade—and felt nothing. That bastard deserved it.
Even knowing all the murders he had committed hadn't fazed him.
But this… Alphons. His hollow eyes. The blood staining Elion's hands.
It burned. It was painful.
He was mine. My responsibility and now he's… dead.
The ones truly devastated were Talom, Hela, and Leonard, who had traveled together far longer.
Elion was kneeling beside Alphons's body, his thoughts racing. He was angry, confused, and disappointed.
Disappointed in himself. Disappointed that he couldn't save him. Disappointed that he had ever thought he could simply use people and discard them when he was done. Apparently, he was too weak for that. And now he was paying the price for that weakness.
Farha's shadow fell over him, startling him.
"If you keep kneeling here, you'll lose the others too. Do you want that?"
Her words cut, but there was something steadier beneath them—like she was refusing to let him crumble.
Elion clenched his fist, but there was nothing he could do. Farha was right, as heartless as her words might seem.
He closed the dead man's eyes slowly, then stood.
"Let's… let's get out of here," he muttered.