Chapter 68

Chapter 68: Respite ?

Unconsciously, Gil had cursed through the link, which consequently alerted his comrades—if not to the exact situation, then at least to the fact that something was wrong.

« Gil, is everything okay? » Greg asked urgently.

« Boss, are you sure we can't help in some way? »Orphée chimed in.

Hugo spoke up: « Nothing is truly unsolvable. Even if they're invisible, we can still... I mean, maybe we can hit them some other way, » he suggested, clearly wanting to do his best to help.

Kuro, more calm, held them back nonetheless: « Where do you plan on going, and what are you going to do if you can't even see the enemy? And let's not forget that we might be under surveillance. Gil acting like this is already problematic, but us coordinating without even speaking out loud is just going to draw attention. Calm down. »

Her calm, quiet voice was precisely what the others—and Gil—needed right now.

« She's right, » Gil transmitted. « Don't move, stay where you are. I'm cutting the transmission. »

Without waiting for a reply, he severed the connection while maintaining the chains. Waiting a long moment to see...

drip, drip, drip, the droplets kept falling.

He didn't rush to attack just yet and simply observed the situation.

Apart from his sight, his sphere, and the chains, he had reduced the consumption of his energy and reserves to the absolute minimum.

Keeping those abilities on almost cost him nothing .

Now that he realized it, the chains—once created and connecting two people—no longer cost him anything. Only the transmission of thoughts between them cost him energy.

As for his sight and sphere, it was slightly different. As far as he could tell, it depended on the situation. His shield, for instance, could consume more upon impact; otherwise, he seemed able to maintain it indefinitely as long as it wasn't under assault. His sight, meanwhile, also depended on what he was observing.

Anyway, let's see. What is the minimum level of consumption needed to trigger this thing? he thought, keeping his abilities active while his reserves gradually refilled, his eyes locked on the puddle and the droplets that kept falling.

Drip, drip, drip.

After a period of observation, he realized something.

Has it slowed down, or is it just me?

Indeed, ever since he had cut off the connection, the rhythm of the droplets seemed to have slowed down.

At first, he thought it was just his imagination or a misconception, but he quickly realized it was true.

Yes, it had definitely slowed down.

And after a moment, the droplets stopped completely.

He waited a moment, holding his breath but...

Nothing.

No specter emerged from the puddle this time.

And after a few minutes, the pool dissolved on its own into clusters of red light. Staring at the ceiling the entire time, it seemed to have returned to how it was the first time Gil had observed it—strained with what looked like old blood.

He couldn't tell if his mind was playing tricks on him, but notably...less red.

Even the sensation of being watched had disappeared. Just like after the first time he had killed the previous specter and reduced his energy consumption, he no longer felt that lurking gaze on him.

Thinking he had finally figured out the underlying mechanism, Gil couldn't bring himself to fully rejoice.

And here I thought I had found a way to communicate secretly under those bastard's nose...

Lost in thought, he walked back to where the others were waiting and said to them: "Let's rest for tonight. We'll pick this back up tomorrow."

They understood, getting the implicit message. Seeing him in one piece and looking unharmed, the others quietly breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

Returning to their usual corner, Gil briefly activated their link one last time to transmit: « I'll explain everything in more detail tomorrow. For now, get some rest. And Hugo—if you feel that sensation of unease again during the night, wake everyone up and head back into the other room. »

Hugo gave an imperceptible nod, while Greg looked at Gil with concern. Gil, ever perceptive, flashed him a reassuring smile: <<Don't worry, it was just a small fry. There's nothing to fear. In any case, they're no match for me.>>

Drip,drip, drip.

Hearing the water droplets fall once more, he struggled to maintain his composure and quickly severed the link, leaving it at that.

He kept an eye on the ceiling, which had regained its deep red hue. But after a long moment, the droplets vanished once again before a new puddle could form with another specter.

That confirms it. Just as I thought.

Deciding not to tempt fate any further, he mumbled a quick "Good night" as a greeting to the others, curled up in his corner, and in an instant found himself back inside his sanctuary once more.

Still, he was torn on whether or not he should risk continuing his experiments.

After all, even if it hadn't drawn any spectres on that first night, there was no guarantee it wouldn't happen this time around. He was beginning to lose patience with these limitations that were starting to constrain his every move.

Mentally and physically exhausted—though far more mentally than physically—he decided to catch a quick nap while his reserves recharged, before making up his mind on whether to push forward with his testing.

Lying on the ground with the starry night sky as his blanket, his eyelids inside the sanctuary grew heavy, and he drifted into a deep sleep.

After a long time in the dark—not quite remembering how he had gotten there—he opened his eyes and, to his complete surprise, found himself in a familiar place.

What the hell am I doing here?

He found himself on a bed—a real bed, old and a bit firm, with a white blanket that felt comfortable and familiar. He was in a somewhat narrow room, rather sparse, furnished with nothing more than a wardrobe, a few outfits, and pairs of shoes—slightly worn and used, but by no means broken down. Inside the closet, the clothes were clean and presentable, though nothing fancy.

At his bedside, sitting on a nightstand, were his phone and his earbuds—the gift El had given him.

He sat up abruptly, looking around the room in utter disbelief. "What...?"

More than anything, he realized his left arm was right there.

Was all of it just a dream?

Hector... the masked, hooded guys... the Facility... the trial... Greg, Kuro, Orphée, Mao, Arya, Elena... all of them...

Did I dream it all?

He couldn't help but doubt reality for a moment.

Instinctively—as he often did upon waking up—he reached out toward his phone, doing what he usually did whenever his heart felt heavy and he needed to clear his mind.

He powered on the phone, enduring the painfully long startup screen typical of this model. Yet even that slow boot-up, which used to irritate him, brought an unexpected smile to his lips.

He waited through the delay with a surge of warmth and familiarity, gradually letting go of the nightmare he had just experienced.

Once the phone finally booted up, he reached for his earbuds, connected them, and picked a random track from his playlist.

Hmm, what should I listen to today? I feel like something upbeat after a nightmare like that.

Let's see... Hmm. Yeah, why not this one?

Choosing one of his favorite tracks, he hit play, opened his library, and selected his read for the day.

Let's jump back in... Hmm hmm hmm. Ah, I know!

This one always cracks me up.

Choosing an old comedic light novel, he got comfortably settled on the bed and began to read. Sweeping aside everything that had happened in his dream, he became completely absorbed in what he was reading, oblivious to the rest of the world.

As he had grown accustomed to doing, he quickly immersed himself in the story.

He couldn't stop laughing, punching the bed, chuckling at the protagonists' misfortunes, and bursting into laughter whenever a comedic moment hit. At times, he even found himself criticizing the author, thinking he could write something better if he were in their shoes—though remembering his own attempts at writing quickly reined in those thoughts.

Before long, he was completely swept up in the familiar joy of reading, quickly forgetting—at least in part—the horrors he had experienced in his nightmare.

At one point, however, he couldn't help but wonder.

Was this novel always this hilarious, or is it just because I woke up from that nightmare? Ah, who cares. What matters is that I'm enjoying myself.

Unwilling to dig up those dark memories, he swiftly brushed every other thought aside with a wave of his hand.

Continuing his reading, he didn't even notice the time slipping by. He powered through page after page, chapter after chapter, completely at ease and carefree, entirely oblivious to the passing hours.

Track after track played in a seamless loop, much to his delight, boosting his good mood higher and higher—until a series of sharp but rhythmic knocks echoed through the space, instantly shattering the peaceful atmosphere that had held him until now.