The clearing was a graveyard, consecrated by my will. The bodies of Derek's team lay twisted on the blood-soaked ground, their life essence now a part of my own growing power. My four shadow puppets stood as silent, violet-eyed monoliths, a testament to my victory. My team, my living weapons, were gathered behind me, their expressions a mixture of grief for their fallen friends and a new, chilling awe for the monster who led them.
And at my feet knelt Derek. The great and terrible leader, the champion of savagery, was now just a broken man, gasping for breath, his face pale with terror. The crimson aura of his artifact was gone, leaving him looking small and pathetic.
He looked up at me, his arrogant smirk replaced by a desperate, quivering plea. "Please," he choked out, his voice a pathetic rasp. "Dante... please, don't. I was wrong. I was wrong, okay? We can... we can team up. What's left of us. We can join you. I'll serve you. I swear it."
I looked down at him, my expression unmoving. I felt nothing. Not pity, not satisfaction, not even hatred. He was simply an object, a loose end to be tied up. His words were the meaningless buzzing of an insect.
"Serve me?" I asked, my voice dangerously soft. "You already have. You gathered a team of killers, hardened their resolve, and delivered them to me on a silver platter. You were the perfect tool. But now, you are broken. And I have no use for broken tools."
I began to raise my hand, channeling the dark mana I had just claimed. A faint, shadowy energy coiled around my fist. The air grew cold. My team tensed behind me. I could feel their desire for vengeance, a hot, pulsing thing in the air. They wanted me to kill him. They wanted to see him pay for Neil and Juno.
Derek's eyes widened in sheer terror as he saw the killing intent in my gaze. He scrambled backward, pushing himself away with his hands and feet like a crab. "No, wait! Wait!" he shrieked, his dignity completely gone. "I have something you need! Information! A secret!"
I paused, my hand still glowing with lethal energy. I let him babble. It was amusing.
"My team... we asked the Goddess a question, too!" he sputtered, the words tumbling out of him in a desperate torrent. "We asked her what happens when we clear the trial! I know the reward!"
I let out a short, contemptuous breath of air. The sheer arrogance. He thought this was a bargaining chip? "I already know that," I said, my voice flat with disappointment. "Six survivors. Six kingdoms. Six new lives as puppets or playthings for whatever faction rules them. Your life isn't worth information I already possess."
"No, that's not it!" he insisted, shaking his head frantically. "You know the outcome, but you don't know about the blessing! You know the goddess gives a blessing, right?"
My hand paused. A blessing. That was a new variable. "What are you talking about?"
He saw the flicker of interest in my eyes and clung to it like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. "The first one!" he gasped. "The very first survivor who finishes the trial, the first one to kill the Bone Dragon and claim a Hero's Mark! The Goddess grants them a wish! Any wish!"
The world seemed to stop. The sounds of the forest, the crackling of dying embers, the ragged breathing of my team it all faded into a dull roar. A wish. Not a skill, not an artifact, not a place in some backwater kingdom. A wish. The power to rewrite a rule, to change a fate, to grasp for something beyond the confines of this brutal game.
"A wish?" I repeated, the words tasting strange on my tongue.
"Yes! Anything you want!" Derek confirmed, nodding vigorously. "She said there were limits you can't wish to be a god, you can't wish for more wishes, you can't wish to harm her You can't wish to go home... but anything else! Dante, You could wish for unparalleled power! You could wish for one of your dead friends to be brought back to life!"
At that, a sharp gasp came from somewhere behind me. Erica. The fool. He was planting seeds of hope where none should be allowed to grow.
But the core of his words... it resonated with a power far greater than vengeance. Killing Derek would be a punctuation mark on this bloody chapter. It would be a moment of catharsis for my grieving team. But what was that, compared to this? The potential to reshape my own destiny.
The game had just changed. It was no longer a grim battle for survival, a race to be one of the lucky six. It was now a race to be the first. The only one who truly mattered. The winner. Everyone else, even the other five survivors, would just be runners-up.
I slowly uncurled my fist, the dark energy receding into my palm. The immediate threat of death lifted, and Derek gasped, a shuddering, relieved sob racking his body. He thought he had won. He thought he had successfully bargained for his life.
"Thank you," he whimpered, tears of relief streaming down his face. "Thank you, Dante. I won't forget this. I'll do anything—"
"I never said I wouldn't kill you," I interrupted, my voice as cold and empty as a winter grave.
The hope in his eyes shattered, replaced by utter, uncomprehending horror. "What? But... but the information! I told you! You promised!"
"I promised nothing," I said, standing up and looking down at him with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing a specimen. "Your information was valuable. I thank you for it. But your life... your life has no value to me whatsoever. You are a liability. A rival. And I do not suffer rivals to live."
He opened his mouth to scream, to beg, to curse me, but no sound came out. He was paralyzed by the sheer, cruel betrayal of the moment.
I turned my head slightly, my gaze falling upon the silent, shadowy puppet of the Wardcraft user the boy who had been Derek's loyal shield.
"You," I commanded, my voice devoid of any emotion. "Bring him down."
The shadow puppet glided forward, its movements silent and inexorable. Derek stared in abject terror as the ghost of his own teammate, his own friend, raised its spectral hand. There was a terrible, poetic justice in it. He would not be killed by me, his enemy. He would be executed by the ghost of the loyalty he himself had betrayed.
The shadow's hand plunged into Derek's chest. He let out a final, choked gasp, his eyes locked on mine, filled with a look of profound, soul-shattering betrayal. Then, the light faded from them, and he collapsed into a heap on the ground, his final secret paid for with a life I had never intended to spare.