Rhonda, the queen of the bloody clearing, stared at Dante.
Her knuckles were white around the handle of her massive axe.
The terror that had gripped her forces was fading. Replaced by the hard glare of a survivor sizing up a new threat.
She was a predator. And she recognized another.
"Dante," she said. Her voice a low, rumbling growl that carried across the field of corpses. "So you finally showed up. I've been hearing whispers about you."
"The quiet boy who made a commotion when everyone was scared. I wanted to meet you."
Her eyes flickered to the bodies of her fallen pack members. Then back to him. A cold, judging light in them.
"I was planning to kill your team, break you, and then recruit you into my pack. A mind like yours is wasted on weaklings."
She took a step forward. Unafraid of the five spectral horrors that flanked him.
Her confidence was absolute. Forged in countless bloody battles.
"You're my type, Dante," she continued. A predatory grin spreading across her face. "I admire your bravery, stepping up to the Goddess like that. It showed ambition."
"That's the only thing that matters in this world. So I'm giving you an offer. An offer of life."
She raised her axe slightly.
"Join me. Be my strategist. And you live."
"Stand against me, and you die here with the rest of this trash."
Dante let the silence hang. Let her words echo.
Then he laughed.
Not a sound of happiness. Cold and sharp and dismissive. It cut through the tension like a razor.
He stopped abruptly. His smile vanished.
"Do you think you have the honor of controlling my life?" he asked. His voice dangerously quiet. "Of telling me when I die or when I live?"
"Then you are a fool, Rhonda. Because not even the Goddess who brought us here has that right."
He smiled again. Cruel and final.
"And as for your offer... I'm sorry, but I can't accept. Because I have already decided."
His eyes went cold.
"You and what's left of your pathetic pack will all die here tonight."
Before she could roar in defiance, he gave the command.
"Eradicate them."
The battle exploded.
"Anchor!"
The shadow of the Graviton user glided forward. It raised spectral hands.
A crushing, invisible force slammed down on three pack members who were charging forward.
Their confident strides turned to desperate, slow-motion crawls. Their legs suddenly heavy as lead.
Pinned. Helpless.
"Corruptor!"
The hunched, seeping form of the Toximancy user's ghost drifted toward the trapped men. It exhaled.
A cloud of sickly, green-black miasma enveloped them. The Miasma of Decay.
Not a fast-acting poison. A slow, rotting curse that sapped strength, corroded armor, and made every breath a painful, choking ordeal.
They clawed at their throats. Roars of fury turning to wet, hacking coughs.
"Deceiver!"
As the other pack members rushed to their comrades' aid, the shadow of the Phantasmist flickered.
Suddenly the clearing was filled with a dozen shifting, ghostly images of the Juggernaut. Each charging from a different direction.
The pack members skidded to a halt. Eyes wide with confusion. They swung weapons wildly at phantoms that dissolved on impact.
Their formation shattered. Minds overwhelmed by chaos.
While they were disoriented, Dante turned his attention to the lone survivor of the other team.
Kael. The Mimic.
He was still on the ground. Staring in wide-eyed shock at the spectral horrors that had just saved him.
Dante walked toward him. His Guardian puppet moved to intercept a pack member who had broken through the illusions.
The Guardian raised a shimmering Phantom Ward. The attacker's club bounced off the dark energy shield with a dull thud.
Dante crouched down in front of Kael. His face impassive.
"You saw a lot of skills today," he stated. His voice leaving no room for argument.
"Leo's Warpstep. Rhonda's Berserker Rage. The lightning mage's spell. You can use them, can't you?"
Kael could only nod. His throat too dry to speak.
"Good," Dante said. "Then you are useful. Your leader is dead. Your team is gone. From this moment on, you belong to me."
"You will use those skills for my benefit. You will be my weapon. Do you understand?"
It wasn't a question. It was a declaration of ownership.
Kael looked from Dante's cold eyes to the unfolding slaughter around them.
He saw the pack members being dismantled with terrifying efficiency.
He saw the Juggernaut finally enter the fray. It manifested its greatsword of pure shadow and cleaved one of the poisoned, struggling attackers in two with a single, brutal Spectral Strike.
Kael nodded again. A flicker of understanding and terror in his eyes.
He understood he was simply trading one master for another. A far more dangerous one.
The battle raged.
Dante's puppets were a perfect killing machine. The Anchor would root a target. The Corruptor would weaken it. The Deceiver would confuse its allies.
And the Juggernaut, protected by the Guardian, would deliver the final, devastating blow.
Six of Rhonda's nine remaining pack members fell this way. Their brute force completely negated by his flawless strategy and supernatural power.
They died in confusion and agony. Never landing a single significant blow.
But Rhonda was not a simple brute. She was a queen for a reason.
Watching her pack being slaughtered, her rage coalesced into sharp, tactical focus.
"Forget the small ones!" she roared. Pointing at the puppets with her blood-soaked axe. "They're just magic! Break the puppets!"
"All of you, on me! We take them down together!"
The two remaining pack members rallied to her. Hulking brutes with hide-like skin.
Their fear was burned away by final, desperate fury.
They ignored the illusions. Charged through the poison miasma. Focused all their attention on a single target.
The Anchor.
The shadow of the Graviton user tried to pin them. But Rhonda, letting out a deafening war cry, activated her Berserker skill.
The crimson aura flared around her. With a burst of pure, rage-fueled strength, she fought through the gravity field.
She and her two remaining warriors fell upon the Anchor like wolves.
The shadow, not built for direct combat, was ripped apart. Its spectral form dissolved into nothingness with a faint, psychic shriek that echoed in Dante's mind.
The loss of the Anchor freed the battlefield. The heavy pressure was gone.
"Next!" Rhonda screamed. Her eyes wild. She pointed at the Deceiver. "That one!"
They charged again.
The Deceiver created a storm of illusions. But the three attackers, their minds now focused on a single goal, simply smashed through them all.
Their eyes locked on the true target.
The Deceiver, like the Anchor, had no physical defense. It was torn to shreds in seconds.
Two puppets down.
The strain on Dante's mana intensified.
"Guardian! Juggernaut! Intercept!" he commanded. A cold knot forming in his stomach.
His two most powerful puppets moved to engage.
The Guardian formed its Phantom Ward, blocking Rhonda's charge. The Juggernaut swung its shadow greatsword, aiming to decapitate her.
But Rhonda was cunning.
At the last second, she ducked under the swing. Her two brutes slammed into the Guardian's shield.
The first blow made it flicker.
The second caused cracks to appear.
The third, combined with a furious kick from Rhonda, shattered the Phantom Ward completely.
The Guardian stood exposed for a fraction of a second before the three attackers tore it apart.
Three down.
A sharp pain lanced through Dante's head. Maintaining the Juggernaut and the Corruptor was becoming a serious drain.
The Corruptor, his last support puppet, tried to retreat. Seeping its poison.
But one of the brutes hurled his club with deadly accuracy.
It passed through the shadow's form, but the raw physical force disrupted its magical cohesion. The shadow wavered.
Then dissolved.
Four down.
Now only one remained.
The Juggernaut. The spectral king. The echo of Derek.
It stood alone against the pack queen and her two remaining champions.
"Now it's a real fight," Rhonda grinned. Blood dripping from her chin.
What followed was a battle of titans.
The Juggernaut, with its Aura of Dread and powerful Spectral Strikes, was a monster.
It fought with cold, relentless fury. Its shadow greatsword clashing against Rhonda's massive axe.
CLANG!
But it was three against one.
While the Juggernaut battled Rhonda, her two brutes hammered at its flanks. Its shadowy form flickered and grew thin as it took blow after blow.
It managed to land a devastating strike. Its greatsword smashed one of the brutes to the ground, chest caved in.
But the victory was costly.
While the Juggernaut was focused on that kill, Rhonda saw her opening.
With a final, triumphant roar, she swung her axe not at the Juggernaut's body, but at its head.
The axe, wreathed in the last of her berserker energy, connected.
The Juggernaut's head was severed from its shoulders.
The mighty shadow stood motionless for a second. Then its form collapsed into a cloud of dispersing darkness. Its crimson aura extinguished like a dying star.
Five down.
The psychic backlash was immense.
His summons was useless now, he can't bring them right again.
Also, His mana reserves were critically low. His mind reeling from the strain.
Across the clearing, Rhonda stood panting. Leaning on her axe.
One of her brutes was dead. The other heavily wounded. But they were alive.
They had won.
They had weathered the storm and destroyed his undead army.
She looked up. Her eyes locking onto him.
The predatory grin returned to her face. Wider and more terrifying than before.
She had seen his stumble. Seen the blood. She knew he was vulnerable.
"No more puppets," she rasped. Her voice filled with savage glee. "No more tricks."
She and her last remaining warrior began to walk toward him and the petrified Mimic.
Their heavy footsteps the slow, deliberate drumbeat of his own impending execution.