Dante unrolled the weathered map across a flat-topped boulder. The firelight cast dancing shadows on its ancient, cryptic markings.
His team gathered around, their faces a mixture of weariness and a new, sharp-edged anticipation. The promise of power, of tangible artifacts that could turn the tide of this brutal game, was a potent motivator.
"This is our path to victory," he began, his voice low and commanding, drawing their full attention. He tapped the map with his finger.
"This zone is rich with artifacts, but they are scattered and undoubtedly well-guarded. To move efficiently, we split into two teams."
"One will be led by me. The other," he looked at their unyielding shield, "will be led by Eric. Your objectives will be to secure these specific items."
His finger traced a path to the first marking, a symbol of a swirling vortex. "First, the Ring of the Maelstrom."
"It's an accessory that consumes the wearer's mana and converts it into a powerful water whirlpool. A defensive and crowd-control ability."
"It's best suited for a non-attacker, someone who needs a way to protect themselves. Someone like Rina, Edgar… or myself."
'Stupids,' he thought, a cold smile touching his lips internally. 'Don't get your hopes up. That ring is obviously for me.'
'A perfect emergency defense for a backline commander.'
He moved his finger to the next symbol, two crossed, serpentine blades. "Next, the Viper's Kiss Daggers. A pair of blades imbued with a fast-acting, infinite poison. These are for Talia."
He looked at her. "Your fighting style is based on speed and precision, not brute force. You excel at hit-and-run tactics."
"With these, even a shallow cut becomes a death sentence. You'll be able to bleed out larger targets that you can't kill with a single strike."
Talia's eyes glinted with a sharp, appreciative light. The daggers were a perfect fit for her deadly dance.
His finger moved again, landing on an open book etched with frost. "The Grimoire of Hoarfrost. A book containing advanced ice-based attack spells."
"Masha," he said, meeting her gaze, "this will be your objective. It will not just give you new techniques; it will deepen your understanding of your own Cryomancy..."
"...making your existing skills more potent and efficient." Masha, ever the pragmatist, simply nodded, but he could see the spark of ambition in her eyes.
"Next, a cloak. The Reinforced Mage Cloak. It offers minor, but constant, resistance to all forms of magical damage. Jin, this is for you."
He looked confused for a moment. "You are a pure physical fighter," Dante explained. "When you close the distance with a mage, you are at your most vulnerable."
"Your sword can't parry a curse or a fireball. This cloak will give you the protection you need to survive that initial magical assault and get within striking distance."
His confusion cleared, replaced by a grim understanding.
Dante pointed to a small, round shield symbol. "The Buckler of Sparks. A small shield that releases a minor electric burst when struck, occasionally stunning the attacker."
"Eric, this is perfect for you." He looked at their massive tank. "You are our wall. Your job is to absorb punishment."
"This artifact turns your defense into an offensive weapon. Every blow you take has a chance to incapacitate your attacker, creating openings for the rest of us."
"It makes you not just a shield, but a trap." Eric's stoic face broke into a rare, wide grin. He loved the idea.
Dante's finger then hovered over the next symbol, and his own heart began to beat faster. His eyes glowed with a private, covetous fire.
'He needed it. This was a cheat. This was the key.'
"The Manacore Pendant. An accessory necklace. Its effect is simple and devastating: it doubles the user's total mana pool while worn."
He let the words sink in.
'Shit. Now I have to argue for two relics. The ring was a luxury, a useful tool.'
'But this… this was essential. This was the solution to the mana drain from my puppets. This was the key to my true power.'
Finally, he pointed to a staff symbol on the far edge of the map. "The Verdant Iron Staff. A durable, extendable staff that changes length and weight at the user's command."
"A martial artifact." He waved a dismissive hand. "No one here uses a staff. We can just skip it."
"That's all for this region," he concluded, looking up at the team. "For the rest of you," he said, glancing at Edgar and Kael, "don't be upset."
"We will find many more artifacts on our way, more powerful ones at that. Your time will come."
"And now, about the teams…"
Before he could finish his sentence, a figure stumbled out of the twilight shadows of the forest.
She was a vision of beautiful destruction. Her long, silver hair was matted with dirt and what looked like dried blood.
She wore a torn, high-collared combat uniform, the fabric shredded in several places, revealing pale skin covered in a latticework of cuts and deep bruises.
She was leaning heavily on a staff, a staff made of a strange, green-tinged iron that seemed to shift in the firelight. The Verdant Iron Staff.
Her face, though smudged with grime, was breathtakingly beautiful, with sharp, aristocratic features and eyes the color of amethysts.
But those eyes held a wild, manic energy, a glint of beautiful madness. She was a war maniac, a fallen angel who had clearly just crawled her way out of hell.
Dante recognized her instantly. Lana. His cousin. His sister, in the way that orphans who grow up together call each other family.
His team reacted in a flash. Jin and Eric moved to the front, their weapons raised. Talia melted into the shadows at the edge of the camp.
Masha and Erica formed a protective line in front of him, their hands already glowing with ice and fire.
The girl, Lana, simply held up a hand, a playful, disarming smile on her lips. "Whoa there," she said, her voice a husky, melodic purr despite her obvious injuries.
"I don't mean any harm. I just came here to meet my brother, well that is what we were told to say in orphanage but he is more than that."
Everyone's eyes fixated on her, their confusion palpable.
"Just relax," she added with a theatrical pout. "Am I not even allowed to meet my own dear brother? That's not fair."
Talia's voice came from the shadows. "Brother? Who are you talking about?"
Lana placed a hand on her heart in mock surprise. "My, my. Didn't he tell you about me?" She looked directly at Dante, her amethyst eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Wait, he didn't? Oh, that's too rude of you, Dante."
Every head snapped in his direction. The team stared at him, their faces a canvas of shock and suspicion.
Dante looked at her, his face a mask of cold indifference, his mind racing. "What do you want, Lana?" he asked, his voice flat, cutting through her performance.
"I know you better than anyone. You are not here just to 'meet' me. Tell me your motive. Now."
He knew her. She was not a simple person. From the very beginning, she had some loose screws, a chaotic, unpredictable streak that even the gods couldn't chart.
She was a beautiful storm in human form.
For years, she had been obsessed with him, her affection a possessive, suffocating thing. Then, a few months before they were summoned, he had finally managed to create some distance.
He had heard she found a new toy to play with, a boyfriend who had become the new center of her chaotic universe.
But now she was here. In this world. Wounded, alone, and holding an artifact from his map. Her sudden appearance was not a coincidence.
It was a variable he had not accounted for, a wrench thrown into the gears of his perfectly calculated machine. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that her arrival meant nothing but trouble.