Chapter 61

Chapter 61:The Language of the Mind

"Hold on," Gil said in the shared mind space, cutting off their excitement. "I need to run a few tests first."

He projected specific commands to test the reception:

Kuro: Roll your eyes and turn your head to the right.

Orphée: Just stop humming for about three seconds.

Greg: Scratch behind your right ear and grin like an idiot.

Kuro executed her instructions instantly, though her eye roll carried genuine ,Orphée stop humming as instructed and Greg started scratching behind his right ear with a puzzled look, but suddenly blurted out aloud, "Wait, how am I supposed to grin like an idiot?"

Gil resisted the urge to facepalm right then and there. At least he had concrete proof: everyone could receive his transmissions loud and clear.

Alright, now that we know you can all hear me, let's see if you can send thoughts back to me through the link. Give it a shot, Gil urged telepathically, a spark of excitement creeping into his mental voice.

The squad—even Kuro—looked intrigued by this new feature, their stoic faces tightening with concentration.

However only a long, agonizing silence followed.

The four of them sat like stone-carved statues, staring intensely at Gil.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, Gil broke the stillness. "Whenever you guys are ready..."

They exchanged a quick, helpless glance, then shook their heads in unison.

Gil let out a heavy sigh, his excitement instantly deflating. Is it a one-way street?

Refusing to be discouraged, Gil pushed deeper into the connection, experimenting with the flow of his energy.

After a few tense attempts, he pinpointed the issue: transmitting thoughts required a small, continuous trickle of his strange internal energy. The others simply didn't have access to this energy .

That was the wall blocking them.

If that's all it is...

Gil deliberately opened the floodgates, letting a steady, faint stream of his energy circulate through the spectral chains anchored to each of them.

Try it again now, he projected.

The others exchanged weary looks, slightly exhausted by the repeated trials, but Greg stepped up first to give it another go.

Man... I wonder if we're ever gonna get out of this place, Greg's thought suddenly echoed in their minds. Seeing the sun or just feeling fresh air on my skin... I really miss that.

Instantly, everyone flinched. The entire squad had heard Greg’s voice clearly inside their heads.

This time, it was Gil's turn to fight off a massive, foolish grin.

It worked! That was the missing link.

Yet, right behind the thrill of success came a cold wave of realization: keeping a two-way channel open meant maintaining a constant fuel drain on his own energy reserves. He had no idea how long his current pool would last under continuous load.

Save that headache for later, he decided, pushing the concern aside. He was too elated to let logistics ruin the moment.

The shared mental space suddenly burst into a noisy, chaotic chorus.

Someone was humming a faint melody, another was singing, and someone else was counting forward and backward just to test the signal.

Listening to the mental chatter brought a broad, genuine smile to Gil's face.

All the effort had paid off.

This silent network would be invaluable for whatever lay ahead.

They had no definitive proof that invisible eyes or ears were monitoring their corner of the room—they might very well be playing a battle of wits against thin air—but Gil preferred paranoia over regret every single time.

Alright, guys, Gil projected into the network, his tone dropping into a sharp, commanding frequency. We can’t just sit here staring at each other in total silence while talking in our heads. That’s way too suspicious. It’s going to draw eyes eventually.

He laid out the operational protocol before any of them could make a mistake:

First :Keep up mundane, everyday banter out loud so anyone watching sees a normal conversation.

Second : Whenever someone needs to transmit a vital thought through the mental link, make a subtle fist gesture.

Third : Upon seeing the signal, Gil would route their connection into the shared channel so the whole group could hear the message.

To demonstrate, Gil immediately began muttering out loud in a low, disgruntled voice, letting his face contort into genuine frustration:

"Damn Hector... damn that healer... damn this masked organization..." He launched into a quiet, rhythmic litany of curses, directing the vast majority of his venom straight at Hector.

The squad picked up on the play instantly.

Out loud, they seamlessly launched into idle small talk—nothing crazy or outrageous, but far from silent.

They bickered about the bland food, complained about their aching muscles, and exchanged uncertain guesses about what tomorrow's training held.

To any guard or eavesdropping captive, they looked like nothing more than a group of exhausted prisoners stewing in their own uncertainty.

Meanwhile, under the cover of their spoken complaints, the real conversation was about to begin.

"I wonder if people back home are actually looking for us," Greg said out loud, his voice carrying a heavy, wistful ache. "There can't just be scum out there, right? Even if most don't care, someone must be searching for us."

Kuro responded without missing a beat, her sharp tone cutting through the quiet gloom of the hall.

"Even if there are, they're a tiny minority. And if they ask too many questions..." She let the sentence hang, the bitter edge in her voice far too real to be acting. She took a quiet breath before continuing, "Besides, if this organization has been doing this for a long time—and if what Mao said holds any truth—maybe the people outside decided we were worth more in here than out there. What were any of you even doing when you were still free?"

Her words left a heavy silence floating over their circle, giving them all something real to brood on.

Sitting amidst the quiet murmur of their spoken cover, Gil listened closely. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of approval through the mental link.

Good, he projected silently to the squad. Very good. Keep it natural like that.

With Kuro's heavy remark, their spoken dialogue naturally died down into a brooding, contemplative silence—the perfect camouflage for their true discussion.

Gil focused his mind and opened the tap in their mental network.

All right, Orphée, Gil projected silently. You're up. Translate for Hugo.

Before Orphée could even process the instruction, a massive, gravelly voice echoed directly through the shared link, carrying a sharp, grumbling edge:

Ah, so you lot finally remember I exist?

The entire squad froze in place. Gil’s eyes widened in sheer shock before he hurriedly forced his gaze downward to hide his reaction, his thoughts racing frantically into the link.

Hugo?! Is that your voice?!

Yeah, wait... Hugo’s mental projection sounded just as stunned as the rest of them. Wait a minute! You can actually understand what I'm saying right now?!

Whoa, hold on! Greg chimed in, his mental tone bursting with surprise. Hugo, I had no idea your voice sounded like that! It’s totally different from the gibberish you usually rumble out!

Hey! It’s not gibberish! Hugo shot back indignantly, though a surge of warmth rippled through his mental signature. That’s the native tongue of my homeland. It’s been ages since I met anyone who could speak it. By the way, — Hugo’s focus shifted toward Orphée —how the hell do you understand my language anyway?

Ah, well... that’s my little secret, Orphée projected back with a quiet, smug chuckle.

Now that the barrier between them had collapsed, the giant—who had been isolated for so long as a silent monster in everyone else's eyes—turned out to be an absolute chatterbox.

He had months of pent-up thoughts, frustration, and observations bursting to get out all at once.

Gil listened to him vent for a long while.

Ah, you have no idea! Hugo grumbled into the network. Nobody could understand a word I said. And because of my intimidating size, things weren't easy for me on the outside either. I spent so long wandering here and there... It wasn't until I ended up in this hellhole that I ran into Orphée, the only one who could actually understand me.

Gil couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sympathy for the giant, sensing the genuine loneliness and frustration behind his words.

At the same time, his mind was already drawing a crucial tactical conclusion: the language barrier didn't apply to this telepathic network.

Whatever medium this mental bridge used, it bypassed spoken dialects entirely.

That could be incredibly useful later, Gil noted.

Still, one pressing question kept nagging at him.

Even though he didn't want to doubt his companion, Gil couldn't simply suppress his natural paranoia and caution.

Tentatively, he reached out into the link: Hugo?

Huh? The giant turned his head toward him, blinking his heavy eyes.

Look, I saw what you were capable of during that fight against the healer, Gil projected, his tone shifting into something far more serious. Unless someone of Hector's caliber came after you, normal captors shouldn't have been able to take you down so easily. So tell me... who captured you, and how did you end up here?

Gil waited in silence. If Hugo had been dragged down here by an enforcer on Hector's level, gathering intelligence on them in advance was vital.

And if not... he needed to know what kind of hidden traps or weapons they were really up against.

Awaiting Hugo's answer, Gil didn't hesitate for a single second, keeping his gaze fixed on the towering construct of a man.

Then, right before their eyes, the giant seemed to shrink slightly, his massive shoulders slumping as he hesitated for at least ten seconds.

Finally, he scratched his head and offered a sheepish confession:

Well... I kind of let myself get captured, actually.

The group stared at him in dead silence.

What he had just said sounded completely ridiculous—so absurd that every single one of them looked at the giant as if he had utterly lost his mind.