Dante's return to consciousness was a slow, painful crawl out of a deep black pit.
The first thing he felt was a dull, throbbing ache from the very core of his being.
He opened his eyes.
The world was a blur of firelight and worried faces.
Erica's face was closest. Her eyes wide and shining with an emotion so raw it was almost blinding.
Before he could process it, before he could speak, she lunged forward.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Hugged him with desperate, trembling strength.
Dante froze. Completely lost.
Physical contact was a foreign language he had never learned. Her embrace was confusing. Warmth and restraint. Desperate clinging that spoke of deep fear.
"You're awake," she sobbed into his shirt. Her voice muffled and thick with tears. "You're finally awake. We thought... I thought..."
"Dante, you were so cold. You wouldn't wake up. You were bleeding. I thought we lost you."
Her grip tightened.
"Don't you ever do that again! Don't you ever scare me like that! You can't leave us. You can't."
Her words were a frantic flood of relief and terror.
Dante remained still. His mind slowly piecing together the events before his collapse.
'The fight. The victory. The strain of raising Derek's spirit. The weakness.'
'It was a tactical error. A miscalculation of my own limits. A mistake I won't make again.'
"He's awake!" Rina's voice, filled with exhausted relief, broke the moment.
The rest of the team crowded in. Their faces emerging from the fire-lit darkness.
Masha was there. Her usual mask of cool composure completely gone. Replaced by deep, weary relief.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. A gesture of comfort and confirmation that he was truly back.
"You had us worried, Dante," she said. Her voice unsteady. "Profoundly worried."
Eric knelt beside him. His massive form blocking out the night. He simply looked at Dante and nodded.
A silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.
In his eyes, Dante saw not just relief, but the renewed faith of a soldier in his commander.
Jin and Talia stood behind him. Their expressions mirrored his stoic approval.
Even Edgar, who usually kept his distance, offered a small, tired smile.
They were all there. Eight of them. The remnants of their original group.
Two were missing. Neil and Juno.
'Their absence is a gaping hole in the formation. A loss of vital assets.'
But as Dante looked at the emotional faces around him, he felt nothing for the dead.
No sadness. No grief.
Because he realized what mattered 'Shit, My unconscious lost not only the mana energy to level up to grow from the dead students but also potential puppets like Juno, Neil and few other opponents'.
He knew it would be hard to summon a single one but he would have released one from his arsenal.
He had known from the beginning that this was a trial of attrition.
'The weak will be culled. The strong will take their place. That is the fundamental law of this world. And every world.'
'Neil's inability to defend himself and Juno's emotional fragility made them liabilities. Their deaths were not a tragedy. They were an inevitability.'
'They served their purpose. One with his knowledge. The other with his sacrifice. Their usefulness was expended.'
His team saw it differently. Their relief at his recovery was tangled with grief for the fallen.
"We lost them," Jin said. His voice low and heavy with guilt Dante did not share. "Neil and Juno... Derek's team, they..."
"I know," Dante said. His voice raspy.
He pushed himself into a sitting position, gently but firmly dislodging Erica's embrace.
She pulled back reluctantly. Her hands hovering as if she wanted to steady him.
"I was there."
His cold, detached tone sobered them. The emotional atmosphere shifted. Raw relief replaced by grim remembrance.
They had wanted vengeance, and he had given it to them. But they were still clinging to the ghosts of their old world.
To the sentimental notion that every life had value.
They had not yet learned what he already knew.
'Value is determined by strength and usefulness. Nothing more.'
"Their deaths were not in vain," he said. His words a carefully crafted balm for their misplaced emotions. "They bought us the victory that ensures the rest of us will live to see another day."
"We will honor them not by mourning, but by surviving. By winning."
He let his gaze sweep over each of them. Reasserting his control. His leadership.
"Rest. We have a long road ahead. The next phase begins now."
Later that night, the camp was quiet.
A rotating watch had been set. Eric and Jin took the first shift. Their silent forms patrolling the perimeter like bears.
The others were asleep. Huddled in bedrolls, finding temporary escape in dreams.
Dante's five shadow puppets stood motionless in the darkness beyond the firelight. A far more effective security system than any living guard.
He bought them out to analyze his own body to check his own mana reserves.
Dante sat alone by the bonfire. Staring into the dancing flames.
The physical weakness had faded. But a deep, soul-wearying exhaustion remained.
'The wish. The ultimate prize. A thing I will snatch from anyone. Then a weight and a power that sets me apart from everyone. Even my own team.'
A soft footstep on damp earth made him look up.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the warm glow of the fire.
Masha.
Her once perfect hair, a symbol of her former life as student council president, was now a messy, practical ponytail.
A dark smudge of dirt streaked across one cheek. Her clothes were torn and stained.
But the firelight caught the intelligence in her eyes. An intensity that had not been diminished by their ordeal. Only sharpened by deep, weary anxiety.
She sat down on a log across from him. Her movements graceful despite exhaustion.
For a long moment, she just stared into the fire. Gathering her thoughts.
"Things are really going bad, aren't they?" she finally said. Her voice barely a whisper.
It wasn't a question. It was confirmation of a terrible truth.
Dante didn't answer. Just watched the flames dance.
"We lost two people today, Dante," she continued. Her gaze still on the fire. "Not to monsters. To other students."
"And we... we killed ten. I keep trying to justify it. Tell myself it was self-defense. That they were murderers."
She shook her head slowly.
"But it doesn't feel right. It feels like we've crossed a line."
"There are no lines here," he said. His voice flat. "There is only survival."
"Is that all this is?" She finally looked at him. Her eyes searching his face for something other than cold, hard logic. "Just survival?"
"What happens next, Dante? We kill the dragon, and then what? We become soldiers or slaves for some king we've never met? Is that the victory we're fighting for?"
Her questions hung in the air. Heavy with unspoken fears.
They were the questions of someone still clinging to hope. Hope for a future that made sense. A future with meaning beyond the next bloody fight.
"Will we even survive that long?" she pressed. Her voice cracking slightly. "Derek's team was strong. What if there are others like them? Stronger ones?"
"What if next time, we're the ones lying dead in a clearing?"
She hugged her knees to her chest. A gesture of profound vulnerability.
"Dante... will we ever go home?"