Chapter 585: The Mind Flayer Has Arrived
Stabbing pain and distortion enveloped Tyriel's entire body.
Terror surfaced deep in his eyes.
Slippery tentacles slowly burrowed inside.
Intense pain drove Tyriel into a frenzy of screams.
At first, the sensation of his brain being stirred was maddening.
But soon, Tyriel felt nothing at all.
His entire body was no longer under his control.
He stared blankly, feeling a terrifying consciousness forcibly invading his mind.
Boundless darkness surrounded him from all sides.
His final vision was of the unmatched terror in the eyes of the other elves!
Despair welled up in Tyriel's heart.
He was afraid!
All his training failed him at this moment.
His mental defenses collapsed instantly.
He could even feel the arrogance and delight of the Mind Flayer through the tentacles.
This direct "communication" of thought was filled with indescribable pain and distortion.
Sensing Tyriel's fear—
The brutal creature did not immediately devour his brain.
Instead, it kept bombarding his mind, amplifying Tyriel's terror!
Making him even more delicious!
Endless agony forced his mouth open in a final wail.
Bang!
A loud explosion.
Tyriel felt a warm liquid splash onto his face.
His once-dark vision gradually returned.
The tightly coiled tentacles loosened, and his body slumped to the ground.
He crawled forward with all his strength to avoid the thrashing limbs.
Tyriel turned with difficulty to look at the monstrous figure, the pain in his head worsening.
Through blurry vision, he finally saw what the monster looked like.
Nearly three meters tall, its presence was overwhelmingly oppressive.
Elongated limbs, unnaturally twisted and visually jarring.
A dark brown robe adorned with twisted, arcane runes.
Four pale tentacles extended from its mouth, stained with fresh red blood.
Its octopus-like head was missing a chunk, as if something had bitten it clean off.
Blood gushed out in streams.
Its gray-purple skin turned deathly pale, the one remaining eye filled with shock and fear.
This was a Mind Flayer!
A terrifying creature from deep beneath the earth!
"Raaaah...!"
A surging psionic storm erupted.
With each shriek and roar, the Mind Flayer's psychic power expanded.
Two troll slaves at its side, under its command, charged the prison gate.
Despite its wounds, the Mind Flayer had no intention of continuing the fight.
It tried to activate a magical item to flee this dangerous place.
This was exactly the Mind Flayer Tyriel remembered—
Cruel, cunning, cold, ruthless—addicted to enslavement and brain-eating.
Unless certain of victory, it would never fight directly, instead controlling slaves to do the battling.
At the first sign of danger—
It would abandon its pawns and flee without hesitation.
To these brutal creatures, nothing mattered more than their own lives.
But this Mind Flayer lacked cunning.
Caught off guard, it now focused only on escaping.
Tyriel's mind was blank, but the spreading psionic storm screamed death.
He was going to die!
Squelch!
An invisible blade pierced the Mind Flayer's chest, gushing blood as it tore through.
Right in the heart!
The tenacious creature wasn't dead yet.
Its tentacles lashed out behind.
Its psychic energy became solid, forming sharp spikes stabbing backward.
6th-circle spell: Mind Lash!
But the attacker was decisive—after destroying its heart, they severed its head.
A clean execution!
With fatal injuries, the Mind Flayer finally collapsed in silence.
All the watching elves showed disbelief and joy.
But their relief was short-lived—as a figure emerged from the void, plunging them into despair.
Pale gray skin.
Elven-like features.
Pointed, slender ears.
Everything about her revealed her identity—Drow, their mortal enemy!
Tyriel's fleeting joy turned to shock as he watched the Drow wipe her blade.
Weak hands reached for his head.
"If I dig out my brain now, I might succeed in suicide."
The elves' fleeting hope turned to deeper fear.
They knew what happened to elves in Drow hands—
Unspeakable torture and humiliation!
If they could choose, they'd rather die!
Sadly, they couldn't even do that.
Exhausted and starved, they couldn't resist.
They shed only a tear or two in fear.
A symbol of their fading hope.
Sera gave them a calm glance, her expression unchanged.
Spotting the rampaging trolls, she advanced without hesitation.
She was so fast—just a red blur—and two troll heads flew.
Even with strong vitality, they only twitched a while before going still.
Sera's clean kill crushed any remaining hope.
Tyriel watched her approach in disbelief—her power far exceeded a typical Extraordinary Ranger.
Why was he so sure?
Because Tyriel himself was an Extraordinary Ranger!
But hunger and pain left him helpless.
Crack!
Sera sliced open the iron cage holding the elves.
The invisible blade made no sound against the metal.
Meeting their fearful stares, she said coldly:
"If you don't want to die, get up and follow me."
"More Mind Flayers are coming."
She didn't look back as she drew a dagger and started cutting the twitching tentacles.
These psionically infused limbs, when processed, could be used to craft powerful magical items.
Each tentacle was worth 100,000 gold in raw materials.
Once crafted, their value doubled.
Besides the tentacles—
Sera removed the Mind Flayer's remaining eye.
Useful for crafting high-grade mind-shielding gems.
A key material for a special type of Ioun Stone.
She also harvested its brain.
Despite being monstrous, the brain was crystalline.
It looked strangely beautiful.
But behind the beauty lurked evil and cruelty.
It was a rare ingredient for advanced potions in the Netheril Empire.
After gathering the best parts, Sera even stripped its enchanted robe.
Under terrified elven eyes, she inspected it and tucked it away.
In that moment—
The Drow image of pillaging, butchering, and greed burned into their minds.
Their fear deepened.
Seeing three or four elves stand, Sera nodded and tossed them some stamina potions:
"You're lucky—I had a good haul today. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother saving you elves."
Tyriel heard the bitterness when she said "elves."
He dazedly caught the thrown potion.
Written in Common and square script: "Stamina Potion."
Tyriel drank it without hesitation.
He'd never drink such bitter stuff before—
But now, pride and manners meant nothing if it kept him alive.
The others hesitated—until Tyriel signaled them.
Feeling the warm energy restore him, Tyriel watched Sera leave and asked, ashamed:
"May I have a healing potion?"
"I'll trade a magic item."
He began removing his treasured leaf pendant from the Tree of Life.
Sera paused and glanced at him—then at the others still recovering—and sneered:
"You're the only decent one here. Hope you survive."
"Keep your item. I never exploit the weak."
(Enemies excluded!)
Tyriel received a red potion—no label saying "Healing Potion."
Instead, it read: "Bay Territory Certified—Premium."
He drank the Vitality Potion immediately.
Even if it was poison, he'd drink it.
The fact Sera spared them was miracle enough.
Lying took more effort than killing.
Her earlier warning meant the Mind Flayer Empire was close.
If they didn't flee, they'd relive the nightmare of brain-eating.
Brains really are precious!
That was Tyriel's one clear thought.
Warmth surged through him.
His weak body began to recover.
He felt intense itching on his wounded head—
But dared not scratch it.
What if he tore out his brain?
As the potion wore off, he met several worried gazes.
Sera had long vanished.
With strength returning, his senses sharpened.
Hearing faint roars outside, Tyriel told the others:
"Help each other. We must leave—Mind Flayers are coming."
Seeing their trembling, Tyriel slapped them.
Noticing their panic, he snarled:
"Now's not the time to cry—survive first!"
"We must follow the Drow!"
The elves supported one another and followed Tyriel out.
Tyrael picked up the rusty, broken blade of the troll with difficulty and cautiously approached the doorway.
To his surprise, Sera hadn't gone far.
Standing beside her were dozens of tall figures.
All Drow Elves!
No—there were three or four elves among them.
Though the dungeon lighting was dim,
Tyrael was certain those three or four were definitely elves.
"Elves mixed with Drow?"
"Or... have they already been tamed into slaves?"
Complex thoughts surged in his mind. Just as he was hesitating, a shrill cry and shouts of battle echoed from afar.
Many elven prisoners came fleeing from the darkness.
They stared at the Drow in the center of the corridor with fear and a trace of hope.
Sera gave them a cold glance and said calmly:
"If you don't want to be captured by the mind flayers, turned into their playthings, slaves, or even food, then follow us obediently."
"We will not save those who throw themselves away. So you'd best hurry up."
"Also, you have three minutes to eat something and drink some water..."
After speaking, Sera nodded to Famir and led a few tall gray elf modified warriors forward.
The newly freed elves looked nervously at the figures walking past them.
Hearing the violent sounds of battle behind them, their minds struggled to process.
Drow Elves were saving them?
How was that possible!
Many turned their attention to the remaining few elves.
They tried to glean some critical information from them.
But seeing the dozens of Drow nearby, fear kept them from getting closer.
Famir glanced at them and calmly placed a few soup buckets from her storage, saying in a clear voice:
"Come eat and drink. You have two and a half minutes left..."
Smelling the soup, Tyrael gritted his teeth and walked over.
As he passed by the Drow, his breathing involuntarily grew heavy.
To his surprise, the Drow didn't even glance at him, their gaze fixed calmly on the distant battlefield.
He was ignored!
They were all powerful!
The mind flayers were coming...
Looking at the arranged bowls and spoons, Tyrael had many thoughts, but silently ate two bites of porridge and sipped the water.
Even the tasteless water felt sweet and satisfying at this moment.
Seeing that Tyrael was unharmed, the other elves who had taken stamina potions quickly followed.
They finally understood.
If the Drow truly meant them harm, they would have been captured long ago—no need for this show.
Though the porridge was bland, the elves wrinkled their noses and ate it anyway.
Whatever the case, without food they'd have no strength.
They didn't want to die!
Especially after seeing so many companions die!
The remaining elves, seeing no danger, also gathered around.
Over a hundred elves now crowded the space, but only a few buckets had been set down.
With little time, no one queued.
Shoving and jostling erupted quickly.
Famir, expecting this, calmly blinked.
Under the threat of death and starvation, elves behaved like any other intelligent species—they prioritized themselves.
Elves valued grace and etiquette, cherished freedom of thought and action.
Quarreling and shoving were perhaps also expressions of that freedom!
The gray elves remained silent.
This too was part of the test.
No one intervened in the elves' chaos.
The battle in the distance quickly ended. Sera returned, carrying the head of a mind flayer, radiating killing intent.
Her expression was slightly strained. Though mind flayers feared death, they were formidable foes.
Even under her ambush, it cast two psychic spells.
Despite her training and rare protective gear, Sera still suffered minor injuries.
Luckily, those wounds would soon heal.
Compared to the pain of modification surgery, this was nothing.
With practice and knowledge, Sera now understood the strength of her enhanced body more deeply.
She had more tactical options in combat.
But she most appreciated her instructor's core teaching:
Don't put blind faith in your body and strength!
Human and elven bodies are far from strong!
The real power comes from life energy and combat feats.
That was the true difference between extraordinary and advanced Professionals.
Sera glanced at the elves, saying nothing about their disorder.
When the plan started,
She thought it would take intricate planning to get the elves to obey.
But clearly, the territory had already understood them.
They were selfish. Without external pressure, their defenses collapsed quickly.
A disorganized mob—not worth worrying about.
Just then, Tyrael stiffly stepped forward and shouted:
"Calm down! You can't eat too much after starving. Just eat a little..."