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With the heart's destruction came a faint trace of hope, and what to Octavio was a misstep in their opponent's game. The seed's roar was an admission of weakness, a sign that, no matter how viscerally repulsive and fantastical, it was a thing that could die. He'd wanted to joke about it, and he was sure he would've, had he not still been surrounded by danger and supernatural bodily fluids.

[i][color=#ffff66]Soldiers. Tw- Air! Air![/color]
[/i]

Another limitation of their new code, he discovered. It didn't account for situations in which points of interest were no longer on the same altitude as Octavio and were in fact being dragged by tendrils. He intervened late, through a single soldier and multiple robotic, tactical hacks. Octavio didn't even have time to curse at himself before the next threat came into view. 

He couldn't affect the battlefield in the same spread out way a heat construct or a wall of ice could, so he emphasized the opposite. Illusions that targeted tendrils individually, the less conspicuous ones that could have gone undetected. It had been easier thought than done, as many tried to strike Octavio. He weaved and rolled out of harm's way, albeit slower, bogged by the multitasking. A larger tendril scrabbled across his shoulder bone and nearly found purchase, before his dagger could put a stop to it. Two smaller ones darted for his shins and missed by inches. 

Sidestepping a third tendril, he silently agreed with Karina. His own personal efforts to deal with the tentacles would be nothing but ineffective pruning over the long-term. They all needed to be more aggressive. 

[color=dde0c7]"I could perhaps try something riskier. Having many illusions rush towards different hearts, something to spread this digusting creature's attention around."[/color] He wiped a brow and hoped that what had oozed off was mostly from his own body.