The great, genuine smile on my face was a predatory thing, a mask of warmth hiding the cold, clicking gears of my mind. The opportunity was perfect. More than perfect. It was a gift from the labyrinth itself. Edgar, my loyal, wounded lamb, was looking at me with such pure, undiluted admiration that it was almost sickening. He saw a victorious leader. I saw a ripened fruit, ready for the harvest.
"Dante," he breathed, his voice full of awe as he took a step closer. "You… you finished already? You were incredible."
"It was a difficult fight," I lied, my voice a carefully crafted tone of weary humility. I took a step toward him, closing the small distance between us. The other cages still shimmered, containing the frantic, silent battles of my other teammates. We were alone. "My replica knew every move I would make. I only won because of an unforeseen variable."
"The ring," he said, his eyes flicking down to my hand. "Of course. Your strategy is always flawless."
"Strategy requires sacrifice, Edgar," I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He beamed under the contact, a loyal soldier receiving a commendation from his king. "You fought bravely. You defeated your own demon."
"I only won because I thought of you," he confessed, his face earnest and open. "The whispers… they tried to make me doubt you. But I knew you would never betray us. My faith in you gave me the strength to fight back."
My smile tightened. The irony was so thick I could taste it. "I am glad to hear that, Edgar. Your faith is… important to me."
I looked past him, toward the shimmering cage where Erica was still battling her fiery twin. "They are still struggling. Go, stand by the edge of Talia's cage. Let me know the moment she is free. Her scouting abilities will be essential to navigating our way out of here."
"Of course, Dante," he said without a shred of hesitation. He turned his back to me, his gaze fixed on the distant, flashing cages. He was completely open, completely trusting. He was presenting his life to me on a silver platter.
My heart was a steady, calm drumbeat. There was no malice in my actions, no anger. This was not murder. It was an acquisition. A necessary culling to strengthen the pack. I drew upon the dark mana within me, not enough to be obvious, but just enough to form a thin, silent, razor-sharp blade of solidified shadow in my hand. It was invisible in the dim, crystalline light.
"Edgar," I said, my voice a soft whisper.
He started to turn. "Yes, Dan—"
He never finished my name. The shadow blade slid between his ribs with a soundless, surgical precision. It pierced his heart, extinguishing his life before his brain could even register the betrayal. His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second, a look of profound, uncomprehending shock on his face. He opened his mouth, but only a soft, wet sigh escaped.
I held him for a moment as the life drained from him, supporting his weight so he wouldn't fall and make a sound. His body went limp in my arms. Gently, I laid him on the crystal floor, arranging his body near the shattered remains of his own replica. I pressed the Guardian's Vambrace he wore against the sharp edge of a crystal shard, creating a deep, plausible-looking gash in the leather. I used a shard from his replica to deepen the wound in his forehead. The scene was perfect: a brave warrior who had defeated his foe, only to succumb to his wounds moments later.
Then, I knelt beside him and placed my hand on his chest. I closed my eyes and pulled. His spirit, his mana core—fattened and nurtured by my design—was a brilliant, shining thing. It was full of loyalty, trust, and a naive, heroic light. It offered no resistance. It flowed into me with a silent, mournful sigh.
The influx of power was immense. It was not the raw, chaotic fury of the orc or the prideful rage of Derek. It was a pure, refined energy that settled into my soul like a missing piece of a puzzle. I felt the ceiling of my power crack. The limit of six summons… it felt fragile now, ready to be broken. But I did not summon him. Not yet. His soul was a precious, heavy weight within me. To call him forth now would be a massive, immediate drain. I had other plans for his debut.
With a final, soft chime, Erica's cage dissolved. She stumbled out, her clothes singed, her face streaked with soot and tears. She had won. She looked around, her eyes searching wildly for me.
"Dante!" she cried, relief flooding her face when she saw me. She started to run toward me, but then she saw the body on the floor. She stopped dead, her hand flying to her mouth. "Edgar?"
At that moment, the other cages dissolved. Talia, Jin, and Masha were free. They saw the scene, and a horrified, grief-stricken silence fell over the chamber.
Erica was the first to reach him. She fell to her knees, her hands hovering over his still form, not knowing what to do. "No… no, he was… he was just here."
Tears welled in her eyes. The others gathered around, their faces masks of shock and sorrow. This was different from Neil and Juno's deaths. They had died in the heat of battle, killed by a clear enemy. This felt… crueler. To survive his own personal hell only to die alone moments later.
I let them have their moment of grief. Then, I began my performance.
A low, guttural roar of pure, theatrical rage tore from my throat. I slammed my fist into a crystal tree, the impact echoing through the silent chamber. "Damn it!" I screamed, my voice cracking with feigned agony. "DAMN IT ALL!"
They all flinched, turning to stare at me. I had my back to them, my shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs.
"He was already dead when I broke free," I choked out, turning to face them, my eyes blazing with a righteous, crocodile fury. "His replica must have landed a fatal blow in its final moments. He was so close… He won, and he still… he still died."
I stalked over to the body, kneeling beside Erica. I placed a hand on Edgar's cold shoulder. "He was a good man," I said, my voice thick with false grief. "A loyal friend. He believed in us. He believed in me."
I looked up, my gaze sweeping over their sad, broken faces. "I will not let this stand," I vowed, my voice ringing with a terrible, solemn promise. "I will not let this world take another one of us. Not like this."
I stood up, my fists clenched. "Derek told me the Goddess grants a wish to the first to finish the trial. I swear to all of you, I will be the first. And I will use that wish to bring him back. I will bring Edgar back to us. No matter the cost."
A wave of shock, then hope, washed over them. Erica looked up at me, her tears forgotten, her eyes shining with a new, fierce light. My promise was a balm to their grief, a purpose to their pain.
"But…" I paused, my face a mask of troubled thought. "To bring him back, the Goddess will need a trace of him. His soul. It will dissipate soon, lost forever." I looked down at the body, then back at them. "There is only one way to preserve it. I have to make him my summon. I have to bind his soul to me until I can set it free."
They nodded, their faces full of grim understanding. It was a desecration, yes, but a necessary one. A noble one.
I knelt, placing my hands over Edgar's chest. I closed my eyes and began to "struggle." I let out a pained grunt. "I can't," I gasped, clutching my head. "My capacity… I already have six summons. His soul… it's too pure, too strong. I can't hold it. There's no more room!"
I looked up at them, my face a picture of desperation. "The pendant," I said, my eyes locking onto the glowing artifact hanging from the amethyst tree. "The Manacore Pendant. It doubles the user's mana. Perhaps… perhaps if my own pool is larger, I can break my limit, just for a moment. Just long enough to anchor his soul."
No one argued. No one questioned. In their eyes, I was not claiming the most powerful artifact for myself. I was taking up a heavy burden, a necessary tool to save the soul of our fallen friend.
Talia, her own grief pushed aside by a sense of duty, retrieved the pendant and handed it to me. I clasped it around my neck. A surge of immense power flooded my body, my mana pool doubling in a dizzying instant. The new, higher ceiling of my power solidified.
"Now," I said, my voice firm. I knelt again, placed my hands on Edgar, and this time, I let the summoning happen. A shadow, darker and purer than any before, rose from his body. It was a perfect, silent silhouette, its form radiating a quiet, unwavering loyalty. My seventh summon. My cornerstone.
I stood up, swaying slightly for effect. "It is done," I breathed. "His soul is safe with me."
I looked at my team, at their grateful, trusting faces. My plan was complete. I had my new puppet, I had the pendant, and I had their undying loyalty, forged in a crucible of their own grief and my lies.
It was in that moment of quiet triumph, as I looked past the faces of my team, that I saw her.
Lana.
She was no longer in the corner where she had been resting. She was standing silently behind the great amethyst tree, partially obscured by its trunk. I hadn't seen her move. I didn't know how long she had been there. Her face was unreadable, her wild, amethyst eyes giving away nothing. But she was watching me. And for the first time since entering this labyrinth, I felt a genuine, chilling flicker of uncertainty.