Amid the corpses of his team lay Derek's team. Everywhere was blood.
Part of that life essence had become a strength of Dante and continues to grow in strength.
His four shadows stood silently, with their violet eyes looking straight ahead as unmoving guards. It was an indication of how complete a victory he had attained.
His team, what was left of them, was with him.
Their faces were a combination of sorrow at the lost friends and an icy sort of respect for the leader who now frightened them. In fact, he was far more a monster than a human.
Derek had his knees bent right at his feet. The big, brutal leader who had once played so tough was reduced to a beaten man struggling for each breath, his face an alarming white from pure terror.
His artifact's red light faded away, making him look dim and weak.
He gazed up at Dante, the old arrogant smile was nowhere to be seen and had been replaced by a shaky begging look. He muttered, "Please," in a rough whisper. "Dante... don't do it."
"I was wrong. Messed up, alright? We can work together, I can join up with you, follow your lead, promise."
Dante's expression remained unchanged as he wore it upon watching him down. He felt no sorrow; it's not joy in this moment either, not even anger.
Derek, then, was just an issue to be solved; another last hassle. The begging sounded like nothing else, like some insect attempting to make noise irrelevant.
Feedback: 38 words. "Serve me?" said Dante, low-toned and deceptively cool- it was silent destruction, "You already have. You put together a group of tough fighters ready and handed them to me."
"You worked great as a tool. But you're cracked now. And I don't keep tools that don't work anymore."
Beneath his surface, his team moved behind him in readiness. He could feel their thirst for vengeance perchance strong and urgent in the air. They wanted him to put an end to Derek. They wanted him to suffer for what he did to Neil and Juno.
Derek's face went all shades of fear when he noticed that weird dead', strange gaze at his direction from Dante. He crawled back uncontrollably and pushed off from his limbs like he was being scared frozen.
"Wait! Don't!" he called out, pride forgotten, "I can give you something you want! Information! A true secret!"
Dante stayed his step for a few moments, allowing Derek to keep rambling. It was pretty funny to watch.
"My group asked some things from the Goddess too!" Derek rushed on, his tongue tripping over his words. "We wanted to know what came after beating the trial! But I know what the prize is!"
Dante let out a short, mocking breath. What nerve. He really thought this could save him?
"I know all that already," he said flat and let down, "Six people make it. Six kingdoms take them. Six new starts as tools or toys for whoever runs those places. Your life isn't worth repeating what I figured out."
"No, wait, that's not the point!" Derek pushed, shaking his head side to side like crazy. "You get the end result, but not the extra part! You know she gives a blessing, don't you?"
Sorry, I haven't heard about it. Dante's hand froze. He had not heard that. "Explain."
That sentence Derek would hang on to for dear life because he wasn't about to let this go. "The greatest prize!" he gasped.
"The first to finish the trial, the first to kill the Bone Dragon and receive that mark of the Hero from the Goddess--the first to cross through the Gate! She allows a wish to be made--whenever they want!"
Everything froze around them. The background noises of the forest, the distant crackling of smoking fires, even the heavy breaths from his team reduced everything to a low hum buzzing deafly in his ears.
It is real. Not some new ability, not a magic item, not a spot in a small kingdom. A real wish. The opportunity to bend some rule, fix a bad turn, reach for something way outside this harsh setup.
"Wish?" Dante said, again asking himself. It's a strange conception. Out loud.
"Yes! Anything you want!" Derek continued to nod repeatedly. "She said it's given as a blessing; you're not allowed to ask in becoming a god or immortal, no extra wishes, nothing that hurts her rules."
"You can't wish back home...except everything else! Dante, what do you say about total strength? Or bring back one of your lost friends, alive again!"
Behind him, someone took a sharp in-drawn breath. Erica. Such a fool. She was hinting on some hope that would get him in trouble.
Yet, what he said would have more weight to hold than pure revenge. Killing Derek would close this circuit of a dirty battle for good.
It would give the miserable team a quick fix of righteousness. But how did that measure against the opportunity to change his entire path moving forward?
It wasn't merely about holding on to make the cut of six, scraping by in this death game.
It was pure first right now. To be the most important. The real top dog. The rest, even the other five who made it, would find themselves second best.
Dante gradually loosened his fist, and when the severity of danger had passed, Derek had a small hysteric breath, body trembling with relief as sobs broke free.
He thought he had pulled it off- thought he had traded some information for a way to keep breathing.
"Thanks," he murmured weakly, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Thank you, Dante. I owe you big time. I'll deal with whatever you say--------"
Dante interjected, "I didn't say anything about letting you live." His voice was cold, sounding sideways, flat and hollowed out.
The light in Derek's eyes splintered, giving way to an overwhelming sense of shock he wasn't able to properly process. "What? But... the secret! I gave it up! You said you'd--"
"I never said anything about that," Dante replied, getting back to his feet and looking down at Derek like some sort of experimental subject. "The intel was useful, so I'm thankful you shared it."
"But right at this moment you as a living person are absolutely of no consequence to me. You're a liability. A possible problem. And I never let problems lingerabouts."
Derek's mouth fell open- to shout, or to plead, or maybe curse, yet nothing came. He was frozen so rigid that nothing else would allow the sting of having been played like this to dissolve.
Dante tilted his head, sighting the quietly moving shadow puppet that had recently been the Wardcraft user- the boy who had nullified attacks for Derek without question.
"You handle it," he ordered monotonously. "Eliminate him."
The shadow moved casually in slow silence. In complete horror, Derek watched as his first teammate, his friend, lifted a ghostly hand.
Yes, in a weird way, that felt right. He wouldn't die at the hands of his rival. Instead, he would be finished by the shadow of trust he'd thrown away himself.
Shnk.
The shadow's hand pierced through Derek's chest. With one last ghastly sound, he kept his eyes glued to Dante's, saying nothing, only broken trust that cut too deep.
He then lost all expression and collapsed face down in a heap, the last bit of information exchanged for a death that Dante had premeditated.