Masha's question hung in the air between them. Fragile and desperate.
"Dante... will we ever go home?"
He didn't answer right away. Just stared into the bonfire. The flames danced in his dark, unreadable eyes.
The silence stretched. Each second made the crushing weight of her fear heavier.
She had been the student council president. She was supposed to be calm. A pillar of strength.
But in this dark, bloody forest, she was just a scared girl. Clinging to a fading memory of a life that felt a million worlds away.
When he finally spoke, his voice had no warmth. Cold and final as a closing tomb.
"There's no way home, Masha. Not for now."
The words hit her with physical force. The air left her lungs. The last sparks of hope turned to ash in her chest.
"Derek's final piece of information was about the wish," he continued. His tone purely analytical. Like discussing a tactical problem.
"The Goddess grants a blessing to the first survivor. A wish. But Derek specifically said we can't wish to go home. That means it's forbidden. A rule even she can't or won't break. A fundamental limit of this world."
Her face, which had been turned toward him with desperate hope, fell.
She was speechless.
The final door had just been slammed shut and locked.
They were trapped.
Not just in this forest, but in this entire brutal reality. The fight, the killing, the Bone Dragon... it wasn't a trial to be overcome.
It was just the violent entrance exam to a new kind of prison.
He must have seen the despair on her face. Because he added, "But why not make this world our new home?"
She looked up, startled. "What are you saying?"
"Like I said," he stated. His logic sharp and unyielding as glass. "We can make it our home. We don't have to be slaves or soldiers. With the power we're gathering, with the intelligence we have, we can carve out a piece of it for ourselves."
"We can rule it. We can live happily."
The word 'happily' sounded alien coming from him. Completely empty of the emotion it was meant to hold.
She stared at him, trying to understand the mind behind those eyes.
He saw this world as problems to solve. Kingdoms as lands to conquer. Happiness as a state of ultimate control.
"That's not what a home is," she said. Her voice barely a whisper.
The words felt weak and sentimental. A memory from a world of comfort and safety.
"A home isn't something you rule. It's... it's where your family waits for you. A place where you share moments. Where you laugh. Where you feel safe."
She swallowed hard.
"It's where your loved ones are. It's not about power."
He tilted his head. A gesture of genuine curiosity.
"How can I know what that feels like," he said. His voice flat. Without a trace of self-pity. "When I don't even have anyone of that sort?"
Masha flinched as if he had struck her.
The statement was so simple. So direct. It cut through all her arguments.
She looked into his eyes then. Truly looked.
They weren't sad.
They weren't bitter.
They were empty.
The eyes of someone who had looked out at the world his entire life from behind a wall of glass. Observing feelings and connections he could analyze but never truly feel.
The eyes of a person utterly and completely alone.
Her own grief and fear seemed to shrink in the face of that profound emptiness.
She moved from her log and sat on the ground beside him. A silent offering of closeness.
"Do you know who they were?" she asked softly. "Your parents?"
"No," he replied. His gaze returning to the fire. "Never seen them. I grew up in an orphanage. The only thing I heard, from some older staff, was that they left me on the steps because I was a mistake. An accident they wanted to erase."
He said it with the same detachment he would use to describe a goblin's stats.
No pain in his voice. Just the cold statement of a fact.
And somehow, that was more heartbreaking than any tears could ever be.
He had processed the core tragedy of his existence as simple data. He wasn't a son. He was a rounding error.
"Dante," Masha said. Her voice thick with an emotion she couldn't name.
Pity, but also deep, aching respect for the sheer strength it must have taken to survive that kind of emptiness.
"You're not alone now. You have us. You have me, and Eric, and Jin, and the others. We're... we're your team. We'll be there with you."
He didn't respond. But she felt him listen.
"And speaking of others," she continued. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "There's Erica."
At the mention of her name, Masha saw the faintest flicker in his eyes. Confusion? Annoyance? She couldn't be sure.
"I don't know what happened to her when you collapsed," she said. Choosing her words carefully. "But it was like watching a switch flip."
"The shy, quiet girl who used to hide behind me is gone. In her place is something else. Something fierce."
She paused.
"Whenever it's about you, she becomes... intense. Scary, even. It's a terrifying, unhinged devotion. I saw it in her eyes today."
"She would kill for you, Dante. She would kill anyone, even one of us, if she thought they were a threat to you."
She leaned in a little closer. Her voice dropping.
"When you were unconscious, she held you. Never left your side. She looked at you not like a leader, but like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered."
She let the silence sit for a moment before finishing.
"You are special to her, Dante. In a way that I don't think even she understands yet."
"So whatever you think about your past. Whatever you believe about being a mistake..."
Her voice softened.
"Don't forget that now, in this world, there will always be someone waiting for you."
"You are not alone anymore."