The reunion was not a happy one.

It was a tense meeting of two exhausted groups. Two halves that no longer fit together.

Eric's team, though beaten up and worn from travel, looked like a unit. Their gear was maintained. Their eyes were sharp. Alert.

They were a team that worked well together.

Dante's team was a collection of tense, unstable individuals. Held together by his will alone.

Masha's intelligent eyes swept over them first. Stopping on Erica's tear-streaked face. The smug, possessive smirk on Lana's lips. The deep exhaustion Dante wore like a cloak.

She didn't speak. But he could see her analyzing. Questioning. Suspecting.

'She's too smart. She sees something is wrong. But she won't know what. Not yet.'

"Report," Dante said. His voice cutting through the heavy silence. Forcing order onto the emotional chaos.

Eric stepped forward.

"Objectives are secured," he stated. "We faced heavy resistance at each location. But the team performed well."

He gestured to Masha. Who took off a heavy pack.

"The Grimoire of Hoarfrost was guarded by Cryo-Specters. Ghostly elementals. Physical attacks passed right through them."

"Masha was the only one who could harm them. It was a long fight. Drained her completely."

Masha carefully pulled the book from the pack. Bound in white, frost-covered leather. A single pale blue crystal set in its cover.

Even from a distance, Dante could feel the cold radiating from it.

She clutched it to her chest. A hard-won prize.

"The Reinforced Mage Cloak," Eric continued, "was in a ruin protected by magical wards and traps. Jin's discipline and Rina's intuition got us through."

"Kael used his copied Lightning Bolt to overload the traps. Disabled them one by one. Precision over power."

Jin held up the cloak. Simple. Dark grey. Shimmering with faint silvery light.

"Finally," Eric said. A rare grin touching his lips. "The Buckler of Sparks."

He nodded toward his arm. Where a new small, round shield was strapped.

Dark, polished bronze. Complex silver wiring across its surface.

"It was held by a Blitz-Striker. Four-armed, ape-like beast. Attacked with blinding speed. Its whole strategy was overwhelming with fast blows."

He tapped the buckler. "Perfect opponent to test this. Every time it struck, the buckler released a jolt of electricity."

"The faster it attacked, the more it stunned itself. It beat itself to death against my shield."

'They succeeded. Of course they did. Eric is competent. Reliable. Everything a leader should be.'

'And they're united. Functional. The perfect contrast to my disaster of a team.'

They had faced their trials and come out stronger. Their teamwork solid. Their new artifacts proof of their capability.

A perfect contrast to the messy, emotionally broken group his own team had become.

A moment of silence passed. Then Rina, her gentle eyes scanning Dante's group, asked the question hanging in the air.

"That's wonderful," she said. Her smile soft but concerned. "But... where's Edgar?"

The world seemed to stop.

The air grew still.

The faces of his team—Talia, Erica, Lana became carefully built masks.

Erica's face crumpled with fresh sadness. Talia's became stone. Lana watched him. A flicker of dark amusement in her eyes.

Waiting for the performance to begin.

'Here we go. Time to sell it. Time to be the grieving leader. The noble hero. The self-sacrificing commander.'

Dante let the silence stretch. Allowing the weight of her question to settle.

He looked down. His face a perfect picture of sorrow and failure.

"We lost him," he said. His voice low almost Broken.

Gasp!

A collective gasp went through Eric's team.

Rina's hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes wide with horror.

Jin's stoic expression cracked. Replaced by disbelief.

Eric took a step forward. His face a storm of shock.

"What happened?" he demanded. His voice a low growl.

"The labyrinth," Dante began. His voice thick with manufactured emotion. "The final trial. We were forced to fight crystal copies of ourselves."

"It was a battle of the soul. A test of our deepest fears."

He looked up. His eyes meeting each of theirs. Drawing them into his lie.

"Edgar... he fought with more courage than any of us. He faced his own insecurities. His own doubts. And he won."

"He shattered his copy. He was victorious."

He paused. Letting a single yet perfect tear trace down his cheek.

"But the fight took too much from him. His copy must have landed a fatal blow in its final moments."

"When I finally broke free from my own trial... he was already gone. He died from his wounds. Alone. Just moments after his greatest victory."

The lie was a masterpiece. A beautiful, tragic story. Believable and deeply, cruelly ironic.

He had woven the truth of Edgar's courage into the fabric of his lie. Making it all the more convincing.

The grief that washed over Eric's team was raw. Physical.

Rina began to sob openly. Masha moving to comfort her. Though her own face was pale with shock.

Thud!

Jin slammed a gauntleted fist into a tree. His face filled with frustrated rage.

Kael, who had barely known Edgar, looked terrified. A stark reminder of how quickly death came in this world.

"Damn it," Eric swore. His voice thick with sorrow. "Damn this world. He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die like that."

Dante let their grief build for a moment. Then he rose to his feet. His own sorrow transforming into terrible, righteous anger.

"He was more than a good man," he declared. His voice ringing with power. Making them all look at him.

"He was our friend. Our comrade. And he was stolen from us."

He stalked into the center of the group. His presence filling the clearing.

"I will not accept this. I will not let this stand."

He looked at each of them. His eyes blazing with holy, manufactured fire.

"I made a promise. And I will keep it. The Goddess grants a wish to the first to finish the trial."

"I will be the first. And I will use that wish to undo this tragedy. I will bring Edgar back."

'There it is. The hook. The impossible promise that will bind them to me forever.'

His vow hung in the air. A shocking, bold promise. Cutting through their grief and replacing it with a fragile desperate hope.

To bring back the dead. It was the power of a god.

And he was claiming it as their goal.

"To do that," he continued. His voice softening into serious purpose. "I have preserved his soul. It's the only way the Goddess will have a trace to bring him back."

He closed his eyes. And a shadow, darker and purer than any of his others, appeared beside him.

Fwoosh.

It was a perfect, silent silhouette of Edgar. Its form radiating quiet, complete loyalty.

His sixth summon.

The sight sent another wave of shock through the group.

They stared at the ghost of their friend. Their sorrow mixed with deep chilling awe.

'Look at them. Staring at the soul of a man I murdered. Believing I'm protecting him. Believing I'm noble.'

'If they only knew. If they could only see what I really am.'

"He is safe with me," Dante said softly. "And he will fight alongside us until the day I can set him free."

'Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I've turned murder into a holy quest. Edgar's death is now my greatest manipulation, Well, atleast for now.'

He had done it.

He had turned Edgar's death into the ultimate tool of motivation.

His memory would now be the fuel that drove them. The chain that bound them to his will.

And importantly will grant him the ultimate wish which was of his own. Why the hell would he bring back the one who he had killed with his own hands

"Now," he said. His voice regaining its commanding edge. His personal grief seemingly pushed aside by grim duty.

"We mourn later. Today, we get stronger."

"Our hunt for artifacts is complete. All of them." He looked around at the newly equipped team.

"But it's not enough. To get the wish, we must be the first to defeat the Bone Dragon."

"And to do that, we must be the strongest. There is one more trial we must face before we're ready."

His gaze swept over them. His eyes burning with ambitious fire.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he declared. His voice leaving no room for doubt. "We hunt the S-rank serpent."

Silence.

They stared at him. Processing his words.

The S-rank serpent. One of the deadliest creatures in the forest.

But they didn't argue. Didn't question.

They simply nodded.

Because he had given them something more powerful than fear.

He had given them hope. Purpose. A reason to fight.

'They're mine. Completely mine. Edgar's death didn't weaken my control. It strengthened it.'

'They'll follow me into hell itself if I promise them I can bring him back.'

"Make camp," he ordered. "We rest today. Prepare tonight. Tomorrow, we face the serpent."

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