[Thirty Minutes Ago]

The world was pain.

Dante's mind flickered like a dying candle. Trapped in thorns. Body broken. Magic sealed.

A king watching the destruction of his own empire.

He saw it all.

Every desperate struggle. Every hopeless fight.

Kael had become a monster to kill a monster. Then collapsed. Life hanging by a thread.

Masha had won her duel. Only to face the crushing reality of their teams defeat.

Lana and Erica were being toyed with. Taken apart by a laughing boy who saw them as sport.

Jin and Talia were about to be killed. Their courage meaning nothing.

He was their leader. And he was failing them.

A cold thought cut through the pain.

'I could leave. Break free. Vanish from the Graveyard. Survive.'

But the thought died.

'Survive for what? The Bone Dragon can't be killed alone. It requires a team. My team. Without them, I can't get my wish. I can't get my happy end.'

'To abandon them is to abandon victory.'

If he could not run, he had to fight.

But he was powerless. A king without a kingdom.

Then his gaze drifted across the battlefield.

Not just a field of battle. A field of resources.

The corpses of Void Drakes and Sun-Eater Wyverns littered the white stone. Their S-rank and A-rank cores still shimmering with faint power.

And closer. So much closer.

The bodies of his own fallen.

Eric. Their unbreakable wall.

Rina. Their gentle heart.

Their cores, grown and strengthened throughout the journey, were beacons of pure energy.

A new plan bloomed in his mind.

Desperate. Monstrous. But possible.

'I'll build new army of mine.'

His first stop was the nearest Void Drake.

He plunged his hand into its corpse. Flesh still warm.

Pulled.

Its S-rank core came free. A pulsating orb of dark energy.

He didn't hesitate.

He swallowed the leaking energy.

A jolt of raw power surged through him. Pain that briefly soothed his wounds.

He moved to the next. And the next.

A Granite-Hide Minotaur. A Phase Spider.

He absorbed their cores like a starving wolf. His power swelling. Empty reserves beginning to overflow.

CRUNCH. CRUNCH.

Each core a burst of energy. Each one filling the void inside him.

Then he reached Rina.

She lay in two pieces. Gentle face frozen in final surprise.

For a fraction of a second, he felt something.

A flicker.

A memory of her gentle smile. Her unwavering faith.

He crushed the thought.

Reached into her ruined chest and placed a hand then started absorbing her mana energy.

Warm. Vibrant. Pulsing with pure life energy.

He swallowed it.

A wave of deep, healing warmth flooded him.

His wounds began to knit together. Pain faded. Strength returned.

He felt her essence merging with his.

Next was Eric.

He lay headless. His massive form a testament to his final stand.

His core was solid. Earthy. Full of unyielding strength.

Dante took it without hesitation.

Swallowed.

The power that settled in his bones was absolute. Unshakeable toughness.

His body hardening. Becoming more resilient with every second.

He moved through the battlefield like a scavenger. A ghoul feasting on the dead.

He consumed the cores of dragons they had slain. The wyverns. The minotaurs.

He even crawled to the bodies of the enemies his team had killed.

Thorne. Riven. Veyrion.

He took their cores too.

Each one a burst of stolen power. Skills. Abilities. Strength.

Energy flooded his being. Power beyond anything he'd ever known.

His mana pool, once vast, was now infinite.

The Manacore Pendant around his neck blazed with blinding light. Doubling an already limitless well.

The ceiling of his potential shattered into a million pieces.

He rose to his feet.

No longer the broken thing that crawled from the thorns.

His wounds were gone. Body reforged by Rina's life and Eric's toughness. Indestructible.

The stump of his shoulder no longer bled. Flesh sealed by raw, stolen life.

He looked at his remaining hand. At Soul-Drinker lying nearby.

Walked over. Picked it up.

The black blade hummed. Recognizing its master returned.

He looked at the battlefield.

At Jin, kneeling. About to be executed.

At Talia, helpless under Draven's blade.

At Erica, about to be struck down by Lucien.

His team. His assets. His only path to victory.

No time for clever tricks. No time for single summons.

He held out his remaining hand. Opened the floodgates of his soul.

He reached out. Not to a single corpse. To all of them.

To the hundreds of dead Wyverns.

To the eight slain Void Drakes.

To the Minotaurs and Spiders.

To Eric and Rina.

To Thorne, Riven, and Veyrion.

To every dead thing on this island.

And with will forged in fire, he gave a single command.

RISE.

---

The sky went black.

Not a cloud. Him.

His necromantic power erupted from his body. A tsunami of pure darkness that blotted out the twilight sky.

The ground trembled.

From the corpse of every fallen creature, a shadow began to stir.

Not a slow resurrection. An explosion.

FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH!

Hundreds of pairs of violet eyes snapped open in perfect unison.

The Sun-Eater Wyverns, now covered in black mist, took to the sky. Their silent screeches a chorus of the damned.

The Void Drakes rose. Scales now the color of starless midnight.

The Granite-Hide Minotaurs, now made of pure shadow, got to their feet.

BOOM! BOOM!

And from the bodies of his fallen friends and foes, new silhouettes of darkness emerged.

Their eyes burning with cold, utterly obedient light.

Eric. Rising as a massive shadow warrior. Eyes glowing violet.

Rina. Her gentle form now wrapped in darkness. Face emotionless. Loyal.

Thorne. Riven. Veyrion. All standing. All his.

---

[Present Time]

A voice echoed in everyone's minds. Dante's voice. Amplified by the souls of an entire army.

"The feast is over."

Everyone froze.

"You came to pick over corpses. To kill the wounded. To feast on the dying."

The voice was cold. Furious. Absolute.

"But the dead don't stay dead. Not here. Not for me."

Draven and Garron, who had been looming over Jin, stared in absolute terror.

The massive forms of Ouroboros and Hephaestus rose from the ground beside them.

No longer just summons. Lieutenants. Their forms denser. More real. Filled with godlike power.

Draven, the master assassin, forgot his prey. Turned to run.

Didn't get two steps.

Ouroboros moved.

Not slow. A blur of absolute darkness.

One of its seven heads, wreathed in stolen lightning, shot forward.

It did not bite. Did not swallow.

It simply passed through him.

FWOOSH.

Draven froze. Confusion on his face.

He looked down. No wound.

Then his body began to dissolve.

Flaking away into fine grey dust. His soul utterly unmade.

PSHHHHH.

Gone.

Garron, the living fortress, roared in terror. Tried to raise his bone armor.

But Hephaestus was already there.

Its massive obsidian hand, magma core burning violet, simply descended.

It did not punch. It pressed.

CRUNCH!

Garron's bone armor shattered like eggshells.

He was crushed. Body and soul instantly burned. Leaving nothing but a blackened, smoking crater.

The two who had tormented Jin and Talia were gone. Erased in the blink of an eye.

Jin stared. Mouth open. "What... what just happened?"

Talia crawled to him. "Dante. That was Dante. He's... he's..."

Across the battlefield, Lucien stared.

His manic smile finally gone. Replaced by pure shock.

A dozen shadow Wyverns swarmed him. Claws and teeth forcing him back.

His blood-sword a desperate shield against the tide of darkness.

"No! No no no! This isn't possible!" he screamed. "You were broken! You were DONE!"

The shadow of Eric, massive and silent, stepped toward him.

Lucien's eyes widened. "Eric? But you're... you're dead. I killed you!"

The shadow didn't answer. Just raised its massive fist.

And brought it down.

BOOM!

Lucien barely dodged. Rolling away. "Stay back! STAY BACK!"

But the Wyverns were everywhere. Clawing. Biting. Tearing.

He was being overwhelmed. Slowly. Inevitably.

---

Dante stood in the center of it all.

His remaining arm raised. Soul-Drinker gleaming.

His army of the dead surrounding him. Hundreds strong. Utterly obedient.

He looked at Lucien. Struggling. Screaming. Bleeding.

No emotion on his face. Just cold calculation.

'This is what happens when you underestimate me. When you think I'm beaten. When you forget what I am.'

He lowered his hand slightly.

The shadow army stopped their assault on Lucien. Just enough to let him breathe.

To let him see.

To let him understand.

Lucien looked up. Face pale. Blood dripping from a dozen cuts.

He saw Dante. Surrounded by the risen dead. Eyes burning with cold fire.

"You," Lucien whispered. "How? How are you doing this?"

Dante didn't answer. Just raised his hand again.

The shadow army resumed their assault.

The war was not over.

But the balance of power had been irrevocably, apocalyptically rewritten.

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.