Smith had, in truth, slightly wronged John.
Even John himself had not anticipated that something as fleeting as a blink could stretch into such a dangerously long moment. Time, in that instant, felt distorted—compressed and yet unbearably drawn out.
Lisala sprinted forward with the rope in her hands, her heart pounding as she reached Natasha's position. She quickly looped the rope securely around Natasha's waist, her movements precise despite the tension in her limbs.
"Mr. Natasha," she said calmly, forcing steadiness into her voice, "please maintain your current position for now. Behind your Wind Wall, there's a pool of strange liquid about a meter deep. It may cause mutations. Someone will pull you back shortly."
As she spoke, Lisala worked efficiently, tightening the knot and checking it twice. At the very end, she pressed a small vial into Natasha's hand.
"This is a Magic Potion," she added. "Just in case."
Although she wasn't entirely certain that the pale green liquid truly caused mutations, this was not the time to gamble on uncertainty. Caution had kept them alive this long, and carelessness was a luxury none of them could afford.
After all, those who survived to this point were never reckless.
"Mm. Thank you for your trouble."
Natasha couldn't see anything, but his hearing remained sharp. The clarity and completeness of Lisala's explanation allowed him to relax slightly, and he let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Just as Smith and the others feared Natasha might attempt something unpredictable, Natasha himself feared the same from them. In his current state—temporarily blinded and immobile—he was entirely vulnerable.
Fortunately, a basic level of trust still existed between them.
Or rather, Roy—the ever-calculating merchant—still possessed a certain credibility. Without that foundation, this cooperation would never have taken place.
Of course, Arya's role as an unseen "supervisor" was equally crucial.
She hadn't come.
And precisely because she hadn't come, both sides were able to trust one another.
After securing the rope, Lisala ran back swiftly. She instructed a few people to close their eyes, advance carefully to the middle of the cave, and begin pulling the rope slowly and steadily.
Natasha immediately felt his body slide backward.
His lower back and hips scraped painfully against the uneven stone floor as he was dragged along. The distance—roughly seventy to eighty meters—was neither short nor long, but in his condition, every meter felt punishing.
It hurt. There was no denying that.
But there was also nothing he could do about it.
When Natasha finally reached the fork in the passage, Lisala raised her voice.
"Everyone, help Captain John and Otto away first. You two stay behind. Once Natasha is fully over, pick him up immediately and run."
Lisala was the youngest among them, and she had always been doted on by the group. But affection alone was never enough to justify authority.
There was only one reason her commands were obeyed without hesitation.
She was the only one who knew exactly what lay behind Natasha's Wind Wall.
Without questioning her, everyone followed her instructions. They first assisted the three who were still in a semi-blind state, guiding them away carefully. Then they roughly dragged Natasha across the remaining distance.
One person lifted his arms. Another grabbed his legs.
And they ran.
Whoosh—!!
A deafening sound erupted behind them, like a massive dam bursting open.
Because Smith and the others had already set a precedent, no one dared to turn around. Not a single person looked back. They ran with everything they had until they reached the next bend in the passage.
Only then did they stop.
"Lisala, what's the situation now?" Smith asked, unable to hide the worry in his voice.
"It's fine now."
Lisala glanced back toward the distance where pale green crystal formations glimmered faintly, then collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.
Her entire body felt weak, as though all strength had been drained from her. Her throat was dry, and her breathing shallow.
She had never commanded anyone like this before.
Not in real life. Not even in games.
"Drink some water first," Natasha said gently, having pieced together most of what had happened. "It'll help ease the tension."
"Thank you."
Lisala accepted the canteen from someone nearby and took several large gulps. The cool water helped ground her, and color slowly returned to her face.
After a brief pause, Smith spoke again.
"Lisala, what's the situation outside now?"
"Wait," she replied. "Let me check."
Without even standing, she leaned sideways and carefully peeked toward the passage.
The pale green liquid was completely gone.
In its place stood an entire corridor of hardened, pale green crystals, gleaming faintly under the dim light.
"It's completely safe now."
"Is that so? That's good."
At her words, not only Smith and Natasha but everyone present let out a collective sigh of relief.
Temporary blindness was already bad enough. Being able to see but being unable to look was even worse. Either condition was deeply distressing.
If no one among them had been wearing glasses, Natasha might not have survived this ordeal.
After all, even the Wind Wall—despite its low consumption and minimal effort—would eventually exhaust his magic power.
It was no exaggeration to say that every direct participant had been saved by Lisala's actions.
"Those crystals you mentioned," Smith said after a moment, "is there any way to retrieve one?"
This was, after all, an investigation. Bringing back a crystal sample would all but guarantee a successful report.
"It should be possible," Lisala replied thoughtfully. "That liquid that might cause mutations is gone."
"All right," Smith said decisively. "Cam, take off your armor and give it to Lisala. Also, your gloves and shield."
He turned to Lisala.
"Take the burlap sack. Go retrieve one crystal, then we'll leave immediately. Don't touch it directly with your hands, and don't let it come into contact with your skin."
No one could guarantee that whatever caused the mutation wouldn't still pose a risk after solidifying.
"Okay," Lisala said without hesitation. "That shouldn't be a problem."
She put on the oversized armor, which hung loosely on her frame, and equipped the gloves and shield. Holding a pickaxe in one hand and the burlap sack in the other, she moved forward carefully.
Clang. Clang.
With a few precise strikes, she knocked loose a fist-sized pale green crystal. She placed it into the sack, wrapped it tightly, and sealed it.
"All right. Let's head back."
With Lisala's declaration, the exploration officially came to a successful end.
"Hey! Smith, why are your eyes filled with tears?"
John glanced sideways with a mischievous grin as they made their way back.
Smith's eyes were still red and swollen, though the worst effects were beginning to fade. Their vision was slowly returning, blurry but manageable.
"At least we don't have to stumble around anymore," John added.
"Because my love for you runs deep," Smith replied through clenched teeth.
"Hahaha! All right, all right," John laughed, waving it off. "Let's hurry and get that crystal identified."
The group returned to the Shelter without further incident.
Natasha had already left.
Although his vision was still somewhat blurry, it posed no real threat. After all, he was likely the only person in District 666 capable of flying. Ambushes were hardly a concern.
More importantly, Smith and the others couldn't allow him to learn the Shelter's location.
It was a reasonable precaution—one that anyone would take.
Even among teammates who had just fought side by side.
Upon returning, Smith immediately borrowed Lisala's glasses and placed the crystal on them for identification.
"Hiss…"
His breath caught.
"This… this is—!"
The implications sent a chill down his spine.
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