The clearing was a mess of pure panic.
Some people cried without shame. Others whispered desperate prayers. Most were scrambling to form groups, grabbing onto anyone they knew.
They were looking for safety in numbers, but all Dante saw was fear.
He stood alone. Like always.
All eyes were on the glowing door where the goddess waited. No one dared go near it. They were frozen, waiting for someone else to go first.
So he did.
The noise stopped. Every head turned to watch him.
He could feel their whispers like insects crawling on his skin, but he ignored them. Without a word, he walked to the door and pushed it open.
The room inside was filled with a warm, soft light. In the center, Liora, the Goddess of Light, waited with a calm that seemed older than time.
She smiled gently.
"Come forward, hero," her voice appeared in his mind, not as a sound, but as a clear thought. "I will grant you your skill."
Dante walked toward her. When she placed her hand on his head, a strange energy shot through him.
It was a white-hot, blinding pain that lit up every nerve. For a second, it felt like his skull was splitting open, his arms and legs about to be torn from his body.
Then, just as fast, it was gone.
"It is done," she said, her voice calm. "You have been given a skill. Let's see... Necromancer."
"It allows you to raise the dead. Any creature you kill can be brought back to join your army. They will obey you completely."
"But every power has its limits. You will have to discover them yourself."
She stepped back. "Now, for your question. You may ask one thing."
He didn't hesitate. This was part of his plan.
"Goddess," he said, his voice steady, "how many of us will make it out of this forest alive?"
She gave him a tired smile. "Straight to the point, I see. Very well."
"Only six of you will survive. There are six kingdoms in this realm, and each will receive one champion. That is all I can tell you."
"No more questions. I have many others to see."
With a small wave of her hand, she turned away.
Dante walked out of the room. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, sealing the fate of every person still waiting outside.
The scene he came back to was even worse. In the short time he was gone, panic had pushed people into large, awkward groups.
He saw one mob of at least forty people huddled together, thinking there was safety in numbers.
They had all been watching the door. When he appeared, they went silent.
He could feel their stares, a mix of curiosity, jealousy, and fear.
'Necromancer,' he thought. 'A powerful skill, but I have no army. I can't fight anyone head-on. Right now, I'm the weakest person here.'
He needed power. He needed pawns.
He stepped forward to face them all.
"I know what's waiting for us," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "I know the hell that's coming, and I know how to survive it."
They listened, some with doubt, others with desperation in their eyes.
"These teams you've made?" He pointed at the mob of forty. "Useless. A complete waste."
"Most of you are going to die, and holding hands with your friends won't change that."
Murmurs of confusion and anger spread through the crowd.
Someone shouted, "How do you know that?"
Dante locked his eyes on him. "It doesn't matter how I know. What matters is that my team will survive."
"The rest of you? You're going to die in these woods."
The air went cold. He wasn't lying. Only six would live. He was just getting ready for what had to happen.
"I'm forming a team," he announced. "I need nine more people. And before you ask why ten, let me be clear."
"The trials ahead will be brutal. People will die. I'm not looking for ten people who will all survive."
"I'm looking for a team with enough bodies to act as a shield when we take hits. Some of you might die to protect the others. That's the price for a chance to live."
He let the words hang in the air.
"And let me be even clearer," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "If, by some miracle, all ten of us make it to the end, we'll have to fight each other for the last spots."
"Don't join me looking for a friend. This is a deal for survival. I'm offering you the best odds of being one of the last ones standing. Nothing more."
"If you trust me, and you want to live, come stand with me now."
The silence was heavy and total.
Then, a girl stepped forward, shy and hesitant. It was Erica. She mostly kept to herself in college, like him.
"I... I'll join," she whispered.
Right behind her came another. Masha, the student council president, walked with confidence and grace.
She stood beside Erica and put a hand on her shoulder. "Where she goes, I go," Masha said simply.
That broke the dam.
A girl with short, silver hair and a sharp look in her eyes joined next. Talia, the fencer.
Then Rina, the top biology student, quiet but smart.
Five boys followed. Jin, who practiced martial arts. Edgar, an engineering student with a sharp mind.
Juno, a quiet artist who was still holding a sketchbook. Eric, known for his stamina. And Neil, a sci-fi nerd who probably knew more about survival than any of them.
They all stood behind him, waiting.
'This is a weak team,' Dante thought. 'For now. But that's the point.'
'Ten will join. Six will survive. I can't let feelings get in the way. The weak will be cut. That's the rule in this new world.'
'No mercy. No attachments. This is about survival.'
As his team formed, the others rushed to see the goddess. They each came back with a skill and a secret.
Some kept their new powers quiet. Others looked smug or shaken. A few had wasted their one question asking if they could go home.
They all knew the answer to that now.
But his answer, and his team of ten, gave birth to a new idea that spread like a sickness.
Maybe there are ten spots, not six.
Groups began to reform around that number. Then the fights started over who to pick and who to leave behind.
Friends started shouting at each other. The bonds they'd had just an hour ago were already tearing apart.
'They're already breaking,' he noted. 'And the trial hasn't even started.'