They left the Crystal Labyrinth behind them.
The exhaustion from the trial was still there. A tiredness so deep in their souls that no amount of mana could erase it.
They made camp a few miles away.
The mood was heavy. The victory over their crystal copies felt empty. Overshadowed by the fresh grief for Edgar.
The team moved with robotic efficiency. Setting up tents. Starting a fire. Dante played his part. Overseeing the work with the look of a burdened leader. His faked sorrow a perfect mask.
'They believe every word. Every gesture. Every tear. Perfect.'
They ate a meal of dried meat and stale rations. No one had the energy for conversation. The events of the day had left them broken in their own quiet ways.
One by one, they retreated to their tents that were scattered randomly on the way or say it had seen more years they could imagine.
The only one who Dante didn't believed would be silent was Lana.
She was different.
The playful energy that usually surrounded her was gone. Replaced by a watchful intensity.
She didn't cling to Dante's side. She didn't argue with Erica. She didn't make her usual inappropriate jokes.
She sat by the fire. Sharpening a small knife.
Shing. Shing.
Her movements were precise. Careful. Almost meditative.
She didn't speak to Dante. But he could feel her eyes on him. Constantly. Whenever he wasn't looking directly at her.
There was a new calculation in her gaze. A scheming glint that he had only ever seen in his own reflection.
'The trial changed something in her. Made her quieter. More dangerous.'
He watched her from the corner of his eye. Trying to read her intentions.
But for once, Lana was unreadable.
'Was it the trial?' he wondered. 'Did the labyrinth break something inside her, or create something new?'
He pushed the thought away.
'It doesn't matter. She is a dangerous asset, but a predictable one. Her obsession is her weakness. I can always control someone who wants something from me.'
He let it go and went to his own small tent. The Manacore Pendant cool against his chest. He needed to rest. To plan their next move.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Sleep did not come easily. His mind was a storm of strategy and calculation. Hours passed. The twin moons cast long shadows through the thin fabric of his tent.
It was in that quiet of the night that a new shadow fell across his entrance.
His body tensed instantly. Every muscle coiled. Ready.
He was on his feet. Hand reaching for his ugly sword made of same very crystal. Mind already touching his summons.
He prepared to face the threat. To destroy whatever had managed to slip past his guards.
Zzzzip.
The tent flap was pushed aside.
"Hiii," Lana whispered. A smile spreading across her face.
She slipped inside. Her movements as silent as a cat's. And sealed the flap behind her.
The small space was plunged into near darkness.
"What do you want, Lana?" Dante asked. His voice a low growl. His hand still near his weapon.
She took a step closer. The air grew thick with a tension that had nothing to do with the trials.
"I was just thinking," she began. Her voice a soft, secret whisper. "About poor, dear Edgar. It was so tragic, wasn't it?"
"To win his fight. Only to die from his wounds right after. So very, very unlucky."
She paused. Letting the words hang in the darkness.
Dante's mind raced. Sifting through possibilities. Calculating odds.
'This isn't a random visit. She wants something. But what?'
"The thing is," she continued. Her voice dropping even lower. "I'm a very light sleeper. And I was the first one to break free from my little crystal cage, you know."
His blood went cold.
'First? She was first?'
"I was so bored," she whispered. "Just waiting for everyone else. So I watched."
She took another step closer.
"I watched you, Dante."
His heart rate spiked. But his face remained perfectly calm.
"I watched you comfort him," she said. Her voice barely audible. "I watched you send him to look at the other cages."
Another step. She was right in front of him now. Her face inches from his in the darkness.
"And I watched you lay him on the ground so very... gently."
The words were a knife in his chest.
'She saw it. She saw everything. The entire thing.'
His first instinct was violence. His mind immediately calculated the angles.
Kill her. Right here. Right now. One quick strike and the threat would be gone.
But it was a foolish plan. Impossible.
She was too strong. Too unpredictable. A fight, no matter how short, would make noise.
It would wake the others. And then would come the questions. The suspicion.
His carefully built image of the noble leader would shatter.
'I'm trapped. Completely trapped. And she knows it.'
He was a king. And a king knows when to negotiate.
"Fine," he said. His voice a flat, empty thing. "What do you want?"
Her smile was blinding. A flash of a predator's victory in the dark.
"What do I want?" she echoed. Her voice a husky purr.
She reached out. Traced a single finger down his chest. The touch sent a jolt through his system.
"That's simple, Dante. I want you."
She leaned in. Her lips brushing against his ear.
"No more games. No more sharing you with that pathetic little fire-starter."
"Tonight... you and I are going to have a lovely night together. You owe me that. It's the price for my silence."
He looked into her wild, amethyst eyes. They were shining with a possessive yet triumphant light.
She had him. And she knew it.
She had pushed him into a corner where his logic and his power were useless. His only move was to give in.
It was the most efficient path. The one with the least risk to his long-term goals.
"Fine," he said Like defeat. "Let's do it your way."
The triumph in her eyes softened into something deeper. Hungrier.
"I knew you'd see it my way," she whispered. "You're smart like that."
She didn't wait for another invitation. Didn't give him time to change his mind.
Her hands moved from his chest up to his neck. Pulling his face down to hers with surprising strength.
Her kiss was not gentle or tender. It was a conquest. A claim.
It was rough, demanding, desperate. A claim on a prize she had won through cleverness and blackmail.
Her lips were soft. But her teeth grazed his bottom lip. A possessive little bite that sent a shock of sensation through him.
Her body pressed against his. All soft curves and hard, wiry strength.
One of her hands tangled in his hair. Holding his head in place. Refusing to let him pull away.
The other hand began to work at the clasp of the Manacore Pendant around his neck.
Click.
With a soft sound, it came free. She tossed it carelessly into the corner of the tent.
"No distractions," she murmured against his lips.
Then her hands moved lower. Pulling at the hem of his shirt.
Her touch was possessive. Claiming. Like she was trying to memorize every line of his body.
"You're mine tonight," she whispered. Her breath hot against his skin. "All mine."
And Dante, the master manipulator, the cold calculator, the harvester of souls... could only let it happen.
'I've been outplayed. By the chaotic girl I thought I controlled. The irony would be funny if it wasn't so humiliating.'
Outside, the camp slept on. Unaware of the power shift happening in the darkness.
Unaware that their noble leader was being blackmailed by the girl who knew his darkest secret.
The night stretched on. with secrets that would never be spoken.
But yes the night was still not over. Tonight, the yandere would take every drop Dante had left.