Gelman exhaled, adjusted his pace slightly, then stepped into the raging wind. His silver wings spread, and he shot upward like an arrow toward the Grotesque Limper.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—
Countless tentacles hanging upside down began to writhe. Hooked claws, mouths, and globs of venom all came at Gelman.
Gelman wasn't afraid in the least. His black robes billowed as he darted and dodged like a dark cloud, redirecting any attacks he couldn't avoid and turning their force against them.
There were simply too many tentacles, packed together so densely that they looked like worms parasitizing a snail, writhing as they lashed at him.
He had to do something.
Gelman kept swinging the Scythe of Funeral, sending out Slash Waves that severed the tentacles one after another.
The action repeated over and over. Bloody streaks filled the air as the severed tentacles curled and crashed onto the water, slapping against it with a series of smacks and staining a broad stretch of the lake red.
The tentacles ultimately halted Gelman's upward charge, but the Grotesque Limper paid a heavy price as well.
As its outstretched, writhing tentacles were repeatedly cut apart, the Grotesque Limper could no longer sit still. It began to retreat upward.
The process was slow and deafening, because its enormous body filled the entire space above the tower. It wasn't easy for it to draw back.
But when it had retreated as far as the red egg, it was ready.
Gelman felt an immense surge of malice, like a gigantic cannon barrel taking aim at him.
Like a spring compressed to its limit, the Grotesque Limper's long body suddenly shot down from above.
Boom—the tremendous impact shattered the entire outer wall of the tower. It collapsed in every direction, struck the bizarre walls of light, and rebounded.