Dante stood before the massive corpse of the Gorgon-Hydra. His back to his team.

Their silence was telling a thing. A mixture of fear, anger and desperate unwilling faith.

They were his audience. The stage was set for his rise to power.

He ignored the simmering hatred from Jin and Masha. The conflicted loyalty in Eric's eyes. The possessive stares from Erica and Lana.

'None of them matter. All that matters is the prize.'

He placed his hands on the adamantine scales. Closed his eyes. Reached inward.

He wasn't looking for the spirit. He was looking for the center of its power. The S-rank mana core.

He found it. A blazing furious star of raw energy deep within the creature's chest. Already leaking power as all dead things do.

The moment his will made contact, the devouring began.

It was not gentle. It was violent. Like trying to swallow the sun.

A flood of pure chaotic power rushed into his system. Completely alien. A thousand times more powerful than anything he'd ever touched.

His veins caught fire. His bones creaked. Threatening to crack under the sheer pressure of power his mortal body was never meant to hold.

"AAAAARGH!"

A scream tore from his throat. Nothing like his past faked performances.

This was real. The feeling of his soul being ripped apart. Forcibly stitched back together. Larger and more monstrous than before.

He was vaguely aware of his team crying out. Of Erica trying to rush forward. Only to be held back by Masha.

Their voices were distant echoes. The hurricane raging inside him drowned everything out.

The Hydra's power wasn't just energy. It was a flood of memories. Ages spent sleeping in black mud. The savage joy of the hunt.

He gritted his teeth. Blood pouring from his lips. And he fought back.

Drip. Drip.

He held onto his own empty core. The loneliness that had been his shield for so long. He used his ambition as a weapon. His will as a cage.

He didn't just absorb the power. He beat it. He broke it. He remade it into something that was his.

The process felt endless. When it was finally over, he collapsed to his knees. His body trembling uncontrollably. Drenched in sweat and blood.

The fire in his veins faded. Leaving behind new terrifying power.

His mana pool, once a lake was now a vast bottomless ocean.

The Manacore Pendant felt cool against his chest. Its doubling effect making the already immense power even greater.

He looked down at his hands. A terrifying smile spread across his face.

A painful joy. The expression of a man who had stared into the abyss, devoured it, and found it delicious.

'Now for the spirit. With this much power, I should be able to hold it.'

He reached out again. His shadowy hands grasping for the Hydra's soul.

This time was different. The hands actually grasped something. Pulled. He felt the spirit resist but not completely reject him.

Progress.

But then the pain hit. Sharp. Splitting. A headache like his skull was cracking open.

He gasped. Released his grip.

'Still not enough space. The core gave me power, but not capacity. I need more slots.'

"Dante..." Erica whispered. Her voice trembling.

"Stay back," he commanded. His voice a low growl. He pushed himself to his feet. Body still shaking. "I'm not done."

He turned back to the corpse.

He had six summon slots. A gift from Edgar's stolen energy.

Four were currently filled: The Guardian. The Crimson Juggernaut. The Orc Champion. Edgar.

'The Hydra is S-rank. It won't fit in a single slot. My gut tells me it needs at least three slots. Maybe more.'

'I have two slots free. Not enough. I need to sacrifice one of my current summons.'

He analyzed his options coldly. Methodically.

'Guardian. Useful as a personal shield. Defensive utility.'

'Derek. Front-line attacker. Good for creating openings.'

'Orc Champion. Raw power. Pure offense. Takes up slightly more than one slot due to its size.'

'Edgar. Appraisal ability. Information is everything. His value exceeds even an S-rank combatant.'

'I can't sacrifice Edgar. His appraisal is too valuable. I'd trade every other summon before losing that ability.'

'Between Derek and the Orc Champion, both are attackers. But the Orc takes up more space. Approximately 1.5 slots instead of 1.'

'If I sacrifice Derek and the Hydra still doesn't fit, I've lost a summon for nothing. But if I sacrifice the Orc Champion, I free up more space. Safer bet.'

'And I still have Derek as a front-line attacker. Redundancy covered.'

The logic was cold. Clean. Efficient.

"Orc Champion," he commanded.

The massive ghostly form appeared. It had served well. But it was time.

"I release you."

With a thought, he cut the link. The shadow dissolved. Its power flowing back into him.

Approximately 1.5 slots free. Combined with the existing two, he now had 3.5 slots available.

More than enough.

'Time to claim what's mine.'

He reached out again. His hands of shadow emerging. Grasping. Pulling.

This time, when he made contact with the spirit, he was not a thief trying to steal. He was a king demanding tribute from conquered land.

The ancient consciousness met his will with active fury. It thrashed against his mind. A storm of raw anger.

It showed him visions. Worlds drowning. Mountains crumbling. Stars dying. Trying to terrify him with its sheer size.

"You have no choice," he snarled. Pouring his new endless ocean of mana into the fight. "You lost. A creature a tenth your size killed you. And now you belong to that killer."

"You belong to me. KNEEL!"

His will became a black hole. His command an absolute, unstoppable pull.

The ancient, wild spirit, for the first time in its impossibly long life, knew fear.

It fought. It raged. But it could not resist a will colder and emptier than the void itself.

With a final, silent, soul-shattering scream of surrender, it broke.

A shadow rose from the Hydra's corpse. So massive and dark it seemed to drink the very light from the swamp.

Not a simple silhouette. A being of living darkness. A nightmare given form.

Seven heads. Each with eyes burning with captured, violet starlight. They turned to face him.

And bowed.

His new army was complete.

Four summons. The peak of his power.

First, The Guardian. His steady shield.

Second, The Crimson Juggernaut. His vengeful shock trooper.

Third, Edgar. The ghost of his lie. His loyal analyst.

And now, his masterpiece. His ultimate weapon. Taking up three slots of his soul: Ouroboros, the Abyssal Shadow.

He stood before them. The master of monsters. His body thrumming with power that felt limitless.

-- -- --

They rested for three days.

Necessary. His body needed to adjust to the divine power coursing through it. His team needed to recover from the brink of death.

Masha and Jin treated him with cautious distance. Speaking only when necessary. Their eyes holding thinly veiled resentment.

Eric was quiet. His loyalty seemingly unshaken. But his eyes held new troubled depth. As if seeing Dante clearly for the first time.

Erica and Lana's rivalry continued. A constant, low-level war fought with poisoned whispers and possessive glares. Their battlefield the few feet of space around him.

Talia remained silent and watchful. As always.

Rina and Kael stayed close to each other. Finding safety in numbers.

'The team is fracturing. But it doesn't matter. As long as they're more afraid of what's outside than what's inside, they'll stay.'

On the fourth day, they began to move.

Zone C, which had once been a place of oppressive dread, was now his kingdom.

The monsters that lived here fled from their approach.

Shadow Hounds that had once stalked them now whimpered and scattered. Armored Beetles burrowed into the earth at the first hint of his presence.

They could sense it. The S-rank power radiating from him. The scent of a new, far more dangerous apex predator.

'They know. The monsters know what I am. What I've become.'

They walked without a single fight. A silent march through a forest that held its breath.

After two days of travel, they reached the edge of his territory.

Before them lay a massive crack in the earth. A canyon stretching as far as the eye could see.

On the other side, the land was different.

The air was sharper. Colder. The trees were taller. Their branches like skeletal fingers reaching for a sky that seemed paler.

And in the distance, visible through the morning mist, was a structure.

A wall. Crude but strong. Built of sharpened logs and rough-hewn stone.

A watchtower stood guard. Smoke rose from within. Signs of life. Of civilization.

They had seen signs of other teams before. Tracks. Abandoned camps. Bodies.

But this was different.

This was a settlement. A fortress.

"Is that..." Jin began. His voice trailing off.

"Zone B," Dante said. His voice flat. "The starting area is far behind us. What lies ahead is the real war."

"The war against the other 'heroes' for the final prize."

He looked at his team. At their exhausted, haunted faces.

"Rest today. Tomorrow, we cross over. And when we do, everything changes."

The team said nothing. They simply stared at the distant wall.

At the next stage of their nightmare.

And Dante smiled.

Because while they saw a challenge, he saw opportunity.

While they saw danger, he saw prey.

The tyrant was ready for war.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.