Dante noted her reaction. It was the same one he'd seen in girls back on Earth when his friend Mike caught their eye. He'd been told he was handsome too, but the compliments were often wrapped in insults, like, "Your good looks are wasted on such a disgusting child." It was hard for him to make sense of it, especially when those same women had used him for their own indulgences. What had he done to deserve such contradictory treatment? He'd never fully understood it, but when you're broke and living on the streets, you don't have much room to argue. He wasn't a masochist, but clothes and food weren't free, so he had to take what he could.
Still, experiencing it was different. A feeling of pride swelled in him. If he were the typical protagonist from a novel or anime, he'd either be oblivious or far too shy to do anything.
But time wasn't on his side. He had no intention of indulging in his desires now, though. He had other, more important matters to attend to.
"Don't worry, Vixeon," he said, his voice steady, "I neither have the time nor the intention to act on my temptations. Let's focus on the task at hand. Use your pull ability—he's getting away."
Vixeon snapped out of her reverie, her eyes darting to the flaming body of Xavier, who had found an opening to escape. His flames roared as he fled, but a terrifying aura descended upon him, halting his escape. His skill faltered under the pressure and he was sent tumbling violently into a wall.
Dante scanned the surroundings, and then, as if responding to his unspoken thoughts, the system explained:
[Master, the walls have been reinforced to withstand attacks from skills of a certain level.]
"Oh makes sense," he muttered, mentally pushing the thoughts aside.
His eyes wandered over to Vexion, standing a few feet away. Her glowing eyes and pouted lips were enough to make his adolescent mind scramble.
Damn it, his body was bulldozing through the awkward teenage phase, and it was hard to focus on anything without his mind wandering to her curves.
"I'm a man of culture," he thought, trying to dismiss the unwanted distractions. "It'd be weird if I didn't feel anything, honestly."
He watched in mild surprise as Xavier was suddenly pulled toward them with tremendous speed. The sub-skill of Vixeon's ability was impressive, specializing in pull and push tactics, and Dante appreciated the advantage. Skills that didn't require much physical movement were the best—especially when you knew how to strategize and keep your secrets hidden. If he could master them, they'd give him an edge in almost every situation, the same applied to her.
As Xavier's body slowed, a strange force pushed against him from all sides, disorienting him. Vexion's control was still a little shaky, but it was enough to keep him in check. Dante nodded to himself. "I'll train her more in time," he thought.
The combined force of Vexion's pull and the overwhelming aura she exuded left Xavier in a state of dizziness and nausea. His body was suffocating, his mind overwhelmed. Blood trickled from his eyes as and soon he passed out, the sickening sound of his eyes about to pop echoing through the hall.
"Decent," Dante said.
Vexion nodded, a smile of delight on her face as she lowered her hands. Her skill had been sealed away for years, ever since she'd become a slave. The thrill of using it again, especially a Legendary-tier skill, sent waves of excitement through her.
Dante couldn't help but smile, pleased with how things were unfolding. "I've really found a perfect subordinate," he mused. But there were still things to work on.
Vixeon had potential, but she needed more training before she could truly become his top lieutenant.
He lifted Xavier's unconscious form and suspended him in the air, leaving the other men, equally battered, floating beside him. As they moved through the hallways, they came to a large, open door, and Dante could hear voices inside. With a slight nod, he waved a hand, and the door crumbled under the pressure of his unseen force, caving in as if made of paper.
Dante floated in, his calm presence contrasting with the chaos he'd just caused. The room inside was decorated to meet the highest standards of noble taste—lavish, beautiful, and pristine. Fifteen elves, both men and women, stood around, all in their mid-30s, handsome, and dressed in traditional, ornate robes. Dante barely noticed them only, scanning their skill levels with ease. He could see the details of every individual, including the Archduke Phillip, who was staring at the door with shock and fury.
Dante's lips curled into a smirk as he surveyed them. He turned to Vexion, his voice laced with dark amusement. "Lucky you," he said. "You get to bully all of these people. They're barely above mid-tier in terms of skill. They're nothing compared to you."
His eyes flicked over the group again. Four Archdukes, three Dukes, and the rest— fodder. He had no interest in their levels. To him, they were all ants, some just slightly stronger than others. In the end, they were still ants, and Dante didn't care about them. After all, what need was there for him to care about ants?