Christopher hesitated.

There was definitely something odd about Salvio. The man kept prying into his life over and over. It was almost as if he was trying to alienate him for some reason.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, trying to hint at something more. It was a shallow lie, but he had no idea what else to say.

“What’s the ma–?” Salvio blurted aggressively, but Brune quickly interrupted him.

“Control yourself!” he ordered. “Not everyone is a battle fanatic like you.”

Christopher silently thanked the man while Salvio, on the side, used his muscular, oversized hand to easily break a wooden javelin in two.

Does he have an anger control issue? Christopher asked himself.

Things got slightly awkward after that discussion.

Their march fell silent, only occasionally interrupted by the ghoul's attacks. As they didn’t show any sign of slowing down, Salvio eventually grew tired and had to ask Brune to take his place.

Despite being irritated, he accepted to carry Jules while Brune took care of the ghouls.

Christopher, too, grew weak and tired, and he couldn’t help but thank the two men for not making him fight the ghouls. The only upside was that his headache was slowly disappearing.

Every now and then, he would ask them to slow down and ignite whatever had recovered from his blood to partially heal some of Jules's wounds. However, the progress was slow. The boy was severely wounded, and he was exhausted.

He prioritized Jules's wounds over his own. He knew he shouldn’t. After all, the better his condition, the faster his blood should recover. But the ever-present guilt of his actions haunted him, and he was reminded of it each time his eyes rested on Jules’ mangled body.

The random ghoul attacks finally ceased, giving the duo and Christopher a much-needed moment of respite. Christopher pondered whether this sudden calm resulted from the Morman Molar wearing off.

Christopher, however, still refused to lower his guard.

At some point, he noticed the heavy, acrid scent had returned. He waited for a moment, but after confirming that neither Brune nor Salvio were aware of it, he mustered his courage and announced.

“I think we are getting closer to the nursery,” he whispered, lightly scratching his wrist.

“Don’t be silly,” Salvio reprimanded. “You can’t even see where we are going.”

Christopher didn’t insist, but as they kept advancing, he grew more and more wary. The acrid scent grew stronger, and the itch in his wrist grew almost unbearable. However, similar to what happened to Jules last time, the two men didn’t seem to be able to smell it.

Maybe I can smell it because of my enhanced senses, he guessed.

If that was the case, Christopher wasn’t sure whether it was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, the smell could serve as an early warning, alerting him to enemies lurking nearby. Even now, as they pressed forward, his sense of danger seemed to grow with each step. On the other hand, he wondered if his heightened sense of smell made him more vulnerable.

Determined to test his theory, he pinched his nose, breathing only through his mouth. To his surprise, the itch didn’t take long to disappear.

“Shit!” Brune cursed, stopping abruptly.

“What?” Salvio asked.

“I think he is right. We’re back in the nursery,” Brune muttered, his voice low and tense. He closed his eyes and focused for a couple of seconds.

“I can hear the babies gnawing,” he said, to Christopher’s surprise. His own ears hadn’t caught the sound at all.

He, too, closed his eyes, focusing on his hearing. Only after a minute did he manage to hear the distant sound of the baby ghouls gnawing on their own limbs.

Looks like Brune has some way to increase his hearing temporarily, Christopher noticed.

“That can't be right,” Salvio protested. “We would have noticed that we are going in circles. We are not newbies!”

“Here, carry the boy,” Salvio said, handing Jules to Brune. “I’ll take the lead and check.”

Brune hesitantly unsummoned his spherical armor and accepted Jules onto his arms before carefully following Salvio, who had summoned his massive golden spear again.

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It took them a moment to realize Christopher wasn’t following.

“What’s up with you?” Salvio snarked. “Are you too scared to keep moving?”

Christopher trembled, his face turning into horror as he stepped back.

A terrifying but familiar aura washed over him, erupting from the ceiling just above them. Christopher’s legs threatened to fail him, and his back was covered in cold sweat. He tried to talk, but words refused to leave his mouth.

He knew this feeling.

It wasn’t as strong as the one he had felt on that dark lake, but it was at least comparable to the tainted wolf he faced on the swamp.

He inhaled through his nose, breathing in the now thick, acidic smell. An almost irresistible itch permeated Christopher’s limbs, and if the sheer horror hadn’t frozen him, he would have cut his own hand on the spot.

Five meters above them, a massive, deep crimson blur appeared, floating in the void like an ominous specter. Slow and deliberate, it swung from side to side, reminiscent of an ancient clock’s pendulum.

The blur was as tall as a man but grotesquely fat, with six elongated limbs stretching from its form. Each finger tapped the air one by one as if weaving an endless, invisible web.

To Christopher’s horror, he realized that neither Brune nor Salvio had realized the danger they were in.

“R–Run,” he finally managed to utter with great effort.

Salvio’s face swelled with a disgusting grin as he prepared to mock the boy. Brune, however, caught the shift in Christopher’s eyes and followed it upwards, towards the ceiling.

Instantly, his expression turned livid, and his face drained of color. Visible sweat formed on his forehead as the man struggled to take even a step back.

Before the man could react, the crimson blur plummeted with unbelievable speed, slamming into Brune with bone-crushing force.

The Lumenless Beast's umbilical cord snapped, but not before dragging Salvio to the ground. The impact sent the man flying through the air, leaving a trail of blood in his wake before his body crashed violently into the wall with a sickening thud.

Jules’ body was left on the ground beside him–Brune’s body having absorbed most of the impact.

Before Christopher stood a gigantic, six-fingered hand; its dark nails were cracked and uneven, jagged like broken glass—thick, disgusting scars traced along each finger, running from the tip up to the swollen, fleshy mass in the middle.

An acidic, sickening stench followed the creature, so potent that despite breathing through his nose, Christopher had to make an immense effort to resist the unbearable compulsion to sever his own hand.

Salvio finally moved, appearing to have broken away from the terrifying aura. However, against Christopher’s expectations, instead of attacking the creature, he smashed his left hand with his massive golden spear.

A piercing scream echoed through the cave as Salvio cried out in pain before it turned into a deep growl. The man’s eyes turned black, his face turning into unrestrained rage. The already overdeveloped muscles on the right side of his body contorted, rapidly expanding. His veins twisted under his skin as if hungry snakes were trying to break out of his arm.

Salvio swung the spear with an overhead movement, bashing into the abomination with absolute power.

The terror’s fingers momentarily gave up as it was crushed into the ground. It recovered rapidly despite being covered in black, foul blood, but that strike was enough for Christopher to break away from its aura.

He ran back towards Brune, leaving Salvio to deal with the monster. His goal was not to escape but to try to heal the Author and have him support Salvio.

Unfortunately, it was too late.

A single glance was all it took to confirm that the warrior now lay dead. Without his armor, his body had taken the brunt of the attack and popped like a ripened fruit.

Christopher turned around and watched the violent fight between Salvio and the monster.

The Author wasn’t faring well. He fought with a crazed look in his eyes. His crushed hand was now mostly gone, a mangled mess of cartilage and tendons barely holding the remaining bone fragments together. A bloody wound tore across his abdomen, where one of the jagged nails had mercilessly torn into his flesh.

He limped heavily, barely able to keep his balance, each time he struck the monster. Christopher wasn’t sure if the limp came from an injury or if the Author’s overgrown muscles hindered his movements.

His distorted form–a mass of muscle and flesh–had grown so grotesque he now resembled a monster more than a man.

Despite his condition, he had managed to bind two of the monster's fingers with his white thread, and yet the terror appeared to have kept most of its fighting ability.

Christopher’s eyes darted back and forth between the man and Jules’ body lying on the ground.

He cursed himself. Still haunted by the memory of what he had done a few hours ago, he didn’t try to escape. Instead, he tightened his grip on his spear and moved forward to face the terror.

Christopher didn’t dare use the Triangulation Beam–he was afraid of missing the terror—and hit Salvio instead.

He thrust his spear forward, hitting the back of the monstrous hand. The creature easily shrugged off the damage; however, it created an opening in the moment it took to collect itself.

Salvio shouted so loud that Christopher’s ears rang with pain. He wasn’t sure of the man’s words, but a golden hue erupted from his spear, washing the surrounding tunnel in eerie, golden light.

His arms and back tensed for a moment, brimming with enormous power, before exploding with blood. Salvio once again brought the gigantic spear down–as thick as a tree trunk–bashing it on top of the monster.

Three of the monster’s fingers cracked loudly, sending a chilling shiver through Christopher. Dark, sharp bone jutted out from beneath its skin, and its foul blood washed the floor. The creature trembled in pain, and for the first time, Christopher realized they could defeat it.

BAM!

Christopher barely registered the monster's movements. One moment, Salvio stood victoriously over the half-defeated creature, preparing for a second strike, and in the next, he was flying through the air, his golden spear bent in half.