The silence after Dante's collapse was worse than any battle cry.
For his team, it was the sound of their world cracking. Their leader, the cold monster who had raised the dead and orchestrated their victory, was now just a man.
Bleeding and broken on the forest floor.
Panic spread through them like poison.
But Erica's obsession gave her strength. Her scream had been fear. Her actions now were pure purpose.
While the others stood frozen, she took command. Her voice cut through their shock.
"Move!" she ordered, her gaze sweeping over them. "Do you want to die here?"
"Eric, Jin, you're on watch. Drag the bodies away from camp after absorbing its mana. All of them. Make a pile. We can't have predators drawn to us."
She pointed to a massive oak with a clear view of the area. "Talia, get up in that tree. You're our eyes. Nothing gets close without us knowing."
"Masha, help Rina. Now!"
The authority in her voice was absolute. The team, desperate for direction, clung to it.
Eric and Jin began the grim task of clearing the battlefield. They moved Derek's team first, handling them with detached efficiency.
But when they reached Neil and Juno, they paused.
The adrenaline had faded. Only hollow, aching grief remained.
They carried their fallen friends with gentleness that defied the brutality around them. Laid them to rest separately.
A small, final act of respect in a world that had none.
High above, Talia became a silent shadow in the branches. Her Kinetic Eye scanned the darkness for any movement.
At the center of it all, Dante lay oblivious. Lost in a storm of his own making.
"It's not working," Rina said. Her voice tight with frustration. She pulled her glowing hands away from his chest.
"Every time I try to pour life energy into him, his own mana fights back. It's chaotic. Violent."
She shook her head. "It's like his power is trying to protect him, but it's tearing him apart instead. That last puppet... it broke something inside him."
Erica hadn't left his side. She wiped his brow with a damp cloth. His head rested in her lap.
No one questioned it.
"There has to be something you can do," she insisted. Her voice low and fierce.
Masha knelt beside them, her practical mind searching for solutions. "If you can't heal him directly, can you support him? What does a body need when it's fighting itself?"
Rina's eyes flickered with an idea. "His body is burning through energy. He has a fever. He needs hydration, nutrients..."
She looked at her hands, then at Masha's canteen. "Maybe I don't have to heal him."
She took the canteen and placed both hands around the metal flask.
Soft green light enveloped it. She closed her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration.
She wasn't pushing her power out as a wave. She was carefully infusing the water, molecule by molecule, with pure life essence.
A delicate, draining process.
"Erica," Rina said, her voice strained. "Help me get some water into him. Slowly."
Together, they tilted his head. Erica gently poured the life-infused water past his lips.
It was slow. Difficult. But it was something.
It was hope.
The night was long.
They were terrifying. But tonight, they were guardians.
Their silent vigil was a promise. Nothing would harm their fallen leader.
The team took turns on watch, but Erica refused to rest.
She sat with him through the long, cold hours. Her back against a tree. His head still in her lap.
The fire Masha had built cast flickering shadows across her face.
She looked down at him. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw.
'This is a Dante I've never seen. A Dante no one has been allowed to see.'
'The cold strategist is gone. Just a fragile boy now.'
The memory of him in the rain, awkward and kind, merged with the image of the ruthless commander who had just slaughtered a dozen men.
To her, they weren't two different people. They were two sides of the same soul.
And she loved them both.
"You're so stupid," she whispered to his unconscious form. Her voice thick. "Pushing yourself like that. Did you think we couldn't protect you?"
She held his hand. Her thumb stroked his knuckles.
"Neil is gone, Dante. And Juno... he did what he did to save us. To save you."
"You can't die. You can't. You're the only one who can get us through this."
She paused. Swallowed hard.
"I need you to get me through this."
Her confession was a secret shared only with him and the silent night.
She saw his cruelty not as a flaw, but as necessary armor. She saw his power not as monstrous, but as beautiful.
And she saw his current weakness as a precious gift. A moment of vulnerability that belonged only to her.
As the first pale light of dawn filtered through the canopy, Rina's efforts finally showed results.
The violent fluctuations in his mana began to calm. The fever that had raged through his body started to recede.
Erica, who hadn't slept at all, felt the change instantly.
The heat from his skin lessened. His breathing, once shallow and ragged, deepened into a stable rhythm.
Relief hit her so hard she almost collapsed.
She leaned down, her face inches from his. Her hair fell around them like a curtain.
"Dante?" she whispered. "Can you hear me?"
His eyelids fluttered. The darkness in his mind began to recede, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache.
He was aware of soft warmth beneath his head. The scent of rain and woodsmoke. A gentle pressure on his hand.
Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was her.
Erica. Her face etched with worry and exhaustion. The first thing to greet him as he returned to the world.
Her eyes, wide in the dawn light, were filled with something raw and powerful.
It wasn't the look of a soldier for her commander.
It was the look of a worshipper for her god.
And in that moment, vulnerable and completely at her mercy, he understood.
'The chains of loyalty I've forged are far more complex, and far more dangerous, than I ever imagined.'