From his hiding place in the bushes, he watched the massacre unfold.
He wasn't just a bystander. He was a predator watching two lesser beasts tear each other apart. Waiting for the perfect moment to claim the real prize.
His eyes were fixed on the Mimic. A living weapon with incredible potential.
A storm of plans raged in his mind. Each a calculated path to getting him.
'What should I do?'
The first option was the simplest and most brutal. Let the pack kill them both. Let Rhonda's bloodlust be satisfied.
Then, when they were exhausted and celebrating their victory, his team would descend like ghosts.
They would eliminate them all. He would claim the Mimic's corpse and add his incredible skill to his army of the dead. The mana harvested from so many bodies would be a massive boost.
'But a puppet, no matter how skilled, is still just a puppet. It can follow commands, but it cannot think. Cannot strategize. Cannot create and importantly use his mana.'
'It would be a weak copy of the living boy.'
The second option was safer. Avoid the fight entirely. Wait for the battle to end, for the winners to take their loot and leave.
Then he could slip in and collect the Mimic's body. Minimal risk to his team.
But it was a passive plan. Relying on chance. His soul would be gone if they didn't leave before.
Inefficient. Unsatisfying.
Then the third idea came. A risky plan with a massive reward that made his heart beat faster.
'What if I save him? What if I step in?'
'A living Mimic, recruited into my team, would be a tool beyond measure. A thinking, adapting wildcard who could learn and use any skill he saw.'
'He would make us so much stronger. His value far greater than any mindless puppet.'
'The problem is the cost. Summoning my five elite puppets and keeping them in a long battle requires a lot of mana.'
'If I run out, I will Die right here before reinforcement come in.'
Thoughts rushed through his mind. A rapid calculation of risk versus reward.
Meanwhile, in the blood-soaked clearing, the final act was beginning.
Leo and the Mimic stood back to back. A tiny island in a sea of snarling enemies.
They were both bleeding. Clothes torn. Faces pale with exhaustion and grim acceptance of their fate.
Nine pack members remained, led by the towering, axe-wielding Rhonda.
They weren't charging anymore. They were circling. Enjoying the moment. Savoring the kill.
"Look at you now, Leo," Rhonda sneered. Her voice a low growl.
She lifted her massive axe. Its blade stained with the blood of his teammates.
"The clever little leader, all alone. Your tricks are done. Your friends are dead."
"They died with more honor than you'll ever know, you brainless animal," Leo spat back. His twin daggers held in a ready grip. Trembling.
"Honor?" Rhonda let out a booming, ugly laugh. "Honor doesn't get you food. Honor doesn't keep you warm. Killing does."
She bared her teeth.
"The strong kill the weak. That's the only honor in this forest!"
She gestured with her axe. "Kill the dagger boy first. I want the other one to watch."
Two pack members roared and charged.
Leo met them head on. A whirlwind of motion. His daggers flashing.
He used his Warpstep skill. Not to escape, but to reposition. He appeared behind one attacker and sank a blade into his kidney.
The pack member screamed and stumbled. But the other was already on him. Club swinging.
CLANG!
Leo parried. The force of the blow sent jarring shock up his arm.
The Mimic, whose name was Kael, wasn't just standing there. He had seen Leo's Warpstep.
As a third pack member charged him, Kael's eyes glowed silver. He teleported a few feet to the side.
The club smashed into empty air.
But he couldn't attack. No weapon. The Berserker skill he had copied earlier had faded.
He was a library of skills with no way to use them offensively.
Leo, fighting a desperate two-on-one battle, was being overwhelmed. A club caught him in the ribs.
He cried out. Staggered back.
"Kael, run!" he yelled. His voice strained. "Use the Warpstep! Get out of here!"
"And go where?" Rhonda laughed. Blocking any escape route. "There's nowhere to run!"
Leo looked at Kael. A final, desperate plan forming in his eyes.
"Just go! Tell them... tell them our classmates to take the revenge."
With a final roar, he ignored the pack members in front of him. Used his last ounce of strength to Warpstep directly toward Rhonda.
Daggers aimed at her throat.
It was a suicide charge. A final, desperate attempt to create a distraction.
A noble, foolish move.
Rhonda, for all her brute force, was a veteran of this forest. She didn't even flinch.
She simply swung her axe in a low, brutal arc.
Leo appeared out of his teleport directly into the path of the spinning blade.
SHLIIICK!
The axe caught him across the stomach. Nearly cut him in two.
He let out a choked gasp. His daggers fell from his hands as he crumpled to the ground.
His sacrifice had bought nothing.
Kael stared in horror at the body of his leader. His last friend.
He was alone. Utterly and completely alone. Surrounded by nine bloodthirsty killers.
"Now you," Rhonda snarled. Turning her attention to him. "The tricky one. I'm going to enjoy this."
She and her remaining eight pack members began to close in. A tightening circle of death.
Kael stumbled backward. His eyes darted around. Looking for a skill, an escape, anything.
But there was nothing. Only the leering faces of his killers.
It was at that moment Dante made his decision.
'A living tool of this quality is worth any risk.'
As Rhonda raised her axe for the final blow, a figure suddenly appeared from the shadows behind her.
Tall. Broad. Radiating pure dread.
Its form was made of solid darkness, but it crackled with faint crimson light. In its hand, it held a greatsword made of shadow.
Rhonda froze. Her killer's instinct screaming that something was wrong.
She slowly turned around.
Her eyes widened in shock as she saw the Juggernaut. The ghostly echo of Derek. Standing silently behind her.
"What in the hell...?" she breathed.
Before she could finish, four more figures melted out of the darkness. Surrounding the entire clearing. Cutting off all escape routes.
The Guardian, with its promise of an unbreakable shield.
The Deceiver, its form already starting to shimmer and blur.
The Anchor, its presence making the very air feel heavy.
And the Corruptor, sickly green mist already seeping from its hunched form.
The remaining nine pack members stared. Their bloodlust turned to ice-cold terror.
The hunters had become the prey.
From the bushes, Dante stepped out into the moonlight. His face calm. His eyes filled with cold, calculating greed.
A king who had just found a new, priceless jewel for his crown.