From his hiding place, Dante watched the massacre unfold. He wasn't a bystander; he was a predator watching two lesser beasts tear each other apart, waiting for the perfect moment to claim the real prize. His eyes were fixed on the Mimic, a living weapon of incredible potential.
A storm of calculations raged in his mind. Let them kill each other, then ambush the victors. Simple. Brutal. The mana harvest would be significant, and a Mimic puppet would be useful. But a puppet, no matter how skilled, was still just a puppet. It could follow commands, but it couldn't strategize. It would be a hollow echo of the living boy.
Wait for them to leave and collect the body? Too passive. Too inefficient. It relied on chance.
Then, the third option, the one that made his heart beat faster with cold, ambitious clarity. Save him. Intervene. A living Mimic, recruited into his team, would be a tool beyond measure—a thinking, adapting wildcard who could learn any skill he saw. The cost in mana would be high, the risk to his team immense. But the reward… the reward was a weapon far greater than any mindless puppet.
In the blood-soaked clearing, the final act was beginning. Leo and the Mimic, Kael, stood back-to-back, a tiny island in a sea of snarling savages. They were bleeding, exhausted, their faces pale with the grim acceptance of their fate. Nine savages remained, led by the towering Rhonda. They were circling, savoring the kill.
"Look at you now, Leo," Rhonda sneered, lifting her massive, blood-stained axe. "The clever little leader, all alone. Your tricks are done. Your friends are dead."
"They died with more honor than you'll ever know, you brainless animal," Leo spat back, his twin daggers held in a trembling grip.
"Honor?" Rhonda let out a booming, ugly laugh. "Honor doesn't get you food! Killing does! The strong kill the weak. That's the only honor in this forest!" She gestured with her axe. "Kill the dagger boy first. I want the other one to watch."
Two savages roared and charged. Leo met them head-on, a whirlwind of motion. He used his Warpstep skill, not to escape, but to reposition, appearing behind one of the savages and sinking a blade into his kidney. The savage screamed, but the other was already on him, his club swinging. Leo parried, but the force of the blow sent a jarring shock up his arm.
Kael, seeing Leo's Warpstep, copied it instantly. As a third savage charged him, he teleported a few feet to the side, the savage's club smashing into empty air. But he couldn't attack. He had no weapon, and the Berserker skill he'd copied had faded.
Leo, fighting a desperate two-on-one battle, was being overwhelmed. A club caught him in the ribs, and he cried out, staggering back.
"Kael, run!" he yelled, his voice strained. "Use the Warpstep! Get out of here!"
"And go where?" Rhonda laughed, blocking any possible escape.
Leo looked at Kael, a final, desperate plan in his eyes. "Just go! Tell them… tell them we fought."
With a final roar, he ignored the savages in front of him and used his last ounce of strength to Warpstep directly toward Rhonda, his daggers aimed at her throat. It was a suicide charge, a noble, foolish move.
Rhonda, a veteran of this forest, didn't even flinch. She simply swung her axe in a low, brutal arc.
Leo appeared out of his teleport directly into the path of the spinning blade.
SHLIIICK!
The axe caught him across the stomach, nearly cutting him in two. He let out a choked gasp, his daggers falling from his hands as he crumpled to the ground. His sacrifice had bought nothing.
Kael stared in horror at the body of his leader, his last friend. He was alone, surrounded by nine bloodthirsty killers.
"Now you," Rhonda snarled, turning her attention to him. "The tricky one. I'm going to enjoy this."
She and her remaining savages began to close in. Kael stumbled backward, his eyes darting around, looking for a skill, an escape, anything. But there was nothing. Only the leering faces of his killers.
It was at that moment Dante made his decision. A living tool of this quality is worth any risk.
As Rhonda raised her axe for the final blow, a figure appeared from the shadows behind her. It was tall, broad, and radiated pure dread. Its form was made of solid darkness, crackling with a faint, crimson light. In its hand, it held a greatsword of shadow.
Rhonda froze, her killer's instinct screaming. She slowly turned. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the Juggernaut, the ghostly echo of Derek, standing silently behind her.
"What in the hell…?" she breathed.
Before she could finish, four more figures melted out of the darkness, surrounding the clearing and cutting off all escape. The Guardian, with its promise of an unbreakable shield. The Deceiver, its form already shimmering. The Anchor, its presence making the very air feel heavy. And the Corruptor, a sickly green mist already seeping from its hunched form.
The nine savages stared, their bloodlust turning to ice-cold terror. The hunters had, in the blink of an eye, become the prey.
From the bushes, Dante stepped out into the moonlight, his face calm, his eyes filled with the cold, calculating greed of a king who has just found a new, priceless jewel for his crown.