'What do I know about octopuses?'
Eli's mind was spinning. His heart pounded like a drum, every beat echoing through his skull.
He stared at the writhing monster—its massive body restrained by vines and threads, its black, rubbery flesh slick under the faint blue light of Zaira's illusion.
He was grasping at straws.
He had never cared about marine life. He wasn't the type to remember biology lectures or random ocean trivia.
All he knew was... what? They had eight tentacles? They squirted ink? Or was that squids?
Eli's jaw tightened. 'God, I don't even know anymore.'
And even if he did know, what good would it do? This wasn't some harmless sea creature—it was a dungeon-class monster, a thing that broke every law of nature and logic. Real-world biology didn't mean shit here.
He exhaled sharply, his throat dry.
Still… knowing how it functioned—even a little—was important. Every creature, no matter how powerful, had a pattern. A weakness. Something.
