The rage hadn't dissipated with unconsciousness. If anything, it had settled deeper, becoming not hot fury but cold determination. When he woke—when his mana had recovered and his mind was clear—that determination would drive him forward.

Merc Assault had made a fatal mistake,the fatal mistake was leaving Satou alive.

Miles away, in a chamber that existed partially outside normal space and time, Merc Assault materialized back into their physical body with a scream of agony that echoed through dimensions.

His real form—hidden for centuries, known to almost no one—convulsed violently as the price of their failure became immediately, horrifyingly apparent. Something was wrong. Terribly, fundamentally wrong.

He collapsed to the floor, his body spasming uncontrollably. Every nerve was on fire. His mind felt fractured, incomplete, like essential pieces had been torn away and discarded.

"What... what happened to me?" Merc Assault gasped, trying to push himself upright with trembling arms. "That attack at the end... that black hole... what WAS that?"

He managed to crawl toward a mirror mounted on the far wall, each movement requiring enormous effort. When he finally pulled himself up to look at his reflection, confusion mixed with growing horror.

He looked... diminished. Smaller somehow, though his physical form hadn't changed. It was his presence, his aura, his very essence that felt reduced.

"My power," he whispered, raising one trembling hand. He tried to manifest a simple dream construct—the most basic technique any dream walker learned—and watched in shock as it flickered weakly before dissipating. "No. No, that's not right. I should be able to..."

He tried again. And again. Each attempt weaker than the last.

Growing panic drove him to test his other abilities systematically. Dream walking. Nightmare creation. Consciousness projection. Mental invasion. One by one, he reached for the skills that had defined him for three centuries.

And found them all... halved.

Dream Walking: Still functional, but requiring twice the concentration and half the duration.

Nightmare Creation: Operating at roughly fifty percent capacity. Complex constructs were now beyond his reach.

Consciousness Projection: Weakened significantly. What had been effortless now drained him rapidly.

Mental Invasion: Reduced to half its former penetration depth and effectiveness.

Psychological Manipulation: Still present but notably weaker.

Spatial Awareness (Dream Realm): Severely diminished. He could sense only half the dimensional layers he'd once perceived.

Reality Perception: Cut from seventeen layers to eight or nine. Still functional but significantly impaired.

"Half," Merc Assault breathed, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "All my abilities... reduced by half. That black hole didn't just push me out of the dream realm—it consumed part of my power. Part of... me."

He slumped against the wall, his mind racing despite the shock. That attack at the end of their battle—that impossible black void that had erupted from Satou and swallowed him before he could fully escape—had been no ordinary technique.

"An absorption ability," Merc Assault muttered, his analytical mind working through the implications despite his emotional state. "He absorbed my power. Took it into himself. But how? In the dream realm, no less, where such things shouldn't be possible."

Then another realization struck him, this one even more disturbing.

"The nightmare demons," he said aloud, his voice carrying a note of horrified understanding. "During our battle, I noticed something odd. Satou was using abilities that belonged to the nightmare creatures I'd created. Shadow manipulation that matched the Shadow Stalker's technique. Mental attacks identical to the Psychic Screamer's assault. Life drain exactly like the Dream Vampire's power."

He pushed himself fully upright, leaning heavily on the mirror frame. "At the time, I thought he was just adapting to the dream realm quickly. Learning to manipulate it like I do. But that's not what happened, is it?"

Merc Assault's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. "He consumed them. Every nightmare demon he killed, he somehow absorbed their abilities. That's why he got stronger as the battle progressed. That's why techniques that should have worked stopped being effective—he was integrating the powers of my own creations!"

The implication was staggering. "An ability that can consume and copy powers. Not just in the physical realm, but in consciousness-based realms too. That means..." He trailed off, the full danger of what he'd encountered sinking in.

"That means Satou can take abilities from anything he defeats. Anyone he kills. Any creature he consumes. And it's not temporary—he integrates them permanently, makes them his own."

Then, like a dam breaking, rage exploded through him. Not the cold, analytical fury of a professional, but something raw and primal.

"THAT FUCKING BASTARD CHRONUS!" Merc Assault roared, his fist slamming into the wall hard enough to crack stone despite his weakened state. "THAT GODS-DAMNED, LYING, MANIPULATIVE PIECE OF SHIT!"

He stumbled away from the mirror, his breathing ragged with fury. "CHRONUS HE KNEW. He had to have known about Satou's ability and used me as a scapegoat!"

His voice rose to a scream. "They sent me in BLIND! Deliberately! No warning about the consuming ability! No mention that the target could steal powers! Nothing! Just 'kill the provisional demon lord, he's getting too powerful, here's your payment!'"

Merc Assault grabbed a nearby chair and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter against the far wall. "THREE HUNDRED YEARS! Three hundred years of maintaining my reputation! Of never failing a contract! Of being the best at what I do! And they destroyed it with one omission! One deliberate lie by not telling me what I was actually facing!"

He paced frantically, his weakened body protesting but unable to contain the rage driving him. "They wanted me to fail. Or they didn't care if I did. Probably thought 'oh, if the legendary dream assassin can't handle it, at least we'll have tested the target's capabilities.' Used me as a fucking probe! A disposable tool to gather intelligence!"

His hands clenched and unclenched, trembling with fury. "And when I failed—when I lost half my power because they didn't warn me about what that demon lord could do—they'll just find someone else. Move on to the next assassin. The next disposable tool. Leaving me crippled, diminished, VIOLATED because they couldn't be bothered to share critical fucking information!"

Merc Assault stopped pacing abruptly, a cold calculation settling over his rage. "They think I'll just accept this. Take my reduced payment for a failed contract, slink away to lick my wounds, maybe retire quietly because I'm no longer capable of fully using my powers."

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