WebNovels

Chapter 48 - The Serpant 3

 The colossal corpse of the Gorgon-Hydra, Ouroboros, lay half-submerged in the black mire, a testament to a victory that felt perilously close to annihilation. My mana pool was a barren desert, the last dregs of my power spent on that final, desperate sphere of annihilation. I was leaning heavily on Erica and Lana, my body a dead weight, my vision swimming with grey static.

My gaze drifted across the battlefield, cataloging my assets. The team was a wreck. Jin was on one knee, his new cloak torn, his sword arm trembling with exhaustion. Masha was pale as death, the frost on her grimoire having melted away, her own energy spent. Eric's shield was a cratered, smoking ruin. They were alive, but they were broken.

Then my eyes landed on Rina. She was a beacon of soft, green light in the grim tableau, moving from one fallen warrior to the next. She knelt beside Talia, whose skin still held a faint, stony pallor, weaving her life energy into the duelist to purge the last of the petrifying gaze. Then she moved to Lana, her hands glowing as she mended the deep gash on her leg from the crystal labyrinth.

A cold, pragmatic thought, unbidden and sharp as a shard of glass, cut through the haze of my exhaustion. Rina's Vitae Weaving. It purged poisons, knitted flesh… and manipulated biological life force. The messy, inconvenient consequences of my night with Lana… could Rina's power erase them? Could her healing touch prevent a potential liability, a complication I had no time or inclination to deal with? That's assuring, I thought, filing the information away. Another problem, another potential solution. Everything, and everyone, was a resource.

My strength began to return in a slow, thin trickle as the Manacore Pendant worked its magic, drawing ambient mana from the world to replenish my empty reserves. I pushed myself away from my two human crutches, standing on my own two feet. My eyes were fixed on the true prize. The body of the serpent.

Its sheer scale was breathtaking. It was a mountain of muscle and adamantine scale. A puppet of that magnitude… it would be more than a weapon. It would be an army of one. My limit of seven summons felt like a cage, but for a creature like this, I would gladly empty it.

"Dante, what are you doing?" Erica asked, her voice laced with concern as I stumbled toward the colossal corpse. "You need to rest."

"Rest is a luxury for the victorious," I said, my voice a low rasp. "We are merely survivors."

I reached the serpent's central, decapitated head. I placed my hand on its cold, scaly hide. The residual power humming within it was immense, a sleeping god's thrum of energy. I closed my eyes and reached out with my will, intending to seize the ancient, primordial spirit that dwelled within.

The backlash was not a scream or a psychic roar. It was a force of nature.

The moment my will touched the serpent's soul, it felt like grabbing a lightning bolt. An ancient, vast, and utterly alien consciousness slammed into my own. It wasn't a will born of pride or rage like Derek or the Orc Champion. It was a will born of eons, a consciousness as old as the rocks and the water. It was the soul of the swamp itself, and it looked upon my attempt at domination with the same detached indifference a mountain has for the wind that blows against it.

My mind buckled. It was like trying to pour the ocean into a teacup. The serpent's spirit was simply too vast, too powerful, too ancient to be contained within my soul. A sharp, white-hot agony lanced through my skull, and I staggered back, a stream of blood pouring from my nose. I had failed.

"Dante!" Erica cried, rushing to my side.

"I can't… I can't hold it," I gasped, playing the part, though the pain was very real. "Its soul is too immense. My own power, my vessel… it's not large enough."

Lana came to my other side, her expression a mixture of genuine concern and analytical curiosity. "Then it's impossible? We can't use it?"

"No," I said, a new, desperate plan already forming. "Impossible is not a word I accept." I looked at my team, my face a mask of grim determination. "My summons… they are extensions of my own soul, pieces of my power given form. They are taking up space. If I am to make room for this god, I must first empty my house."

I focused my will. "Corruptor," I commanded.

The hunched, seeping shadow of the Toximancy user materialized beside me, its violet eyes glowing. The team watched, confused.

"I release you," I said to the puppet. I closed my eyes and severed the tether. The shadow wavered, then dissolved into a cloud of black smoke that was instantly absorbed back into my own being. The power I had used to sustain it flowed back into me.

I turned back to the serpent. I placed my hand on it again. I reached. Again, the immense, immovable will of the ancient creature met mine. It was still too much. I was repelled, another spike of pain shooting through my mind.

"Still not enough," I gritted out. "Its spirit requires more of me than I have to give."

"Dante, stop!" Erica pleaded, grabbing my arm. "You're killing yourself! It's not worth it!"

"Everything is worth it if it leads to victory," I countered, shrugging her off. "Deceiver!"

The shimmering, twitching form of the Phantasmist appeared. "You served me well," I said to the ghost of the boy I had helped kill. "But a greater purpose awaits." I released it, its form dissolving, its power returning to me. My army was now down to five.

I tried a third time. The result was the same. The serpent's soul was a fortress, and my will was merely a battering ram, denting itself against unbreachable walls.

Lana watched me, her head tilted. "This is foolish, Dante. You're draining yourself for nothing. Even if you release all of them, you might not be able to hold it. And then what? You'll be left with nothing."

She was right. I looked at my remaining summons, the specters I could feel waiting in the wings of my soul. The Guardian. The Orc Champion. The ghost of Derek. And my cornerstone, the loyal shade of Edgar. I couldn't release them. Not all of them. They were my army, my shield, my tactical advantage. To sacrifice them all on a gamble that was clearly failing… it was illogical. It was inefficient.

I stepped back from the corpse, my mind racing. Enslaving the spirit was impossible. But the spirit was not the only source of power.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. An idea, brilliant in its simplicity and breathtaking in its audacity, bloomed in my mind.

"You're right, Lana," I said. "I cannot enslave a god." I turned to face my team, my expression shifting into one of grim, righteous certainty. "But I can devour it."

They stared at me, uncomprehending.

"Its mana core," I explained, my voice resonating with a newfound purpose. "The source of all this power. It lies within that corpse. Only one person can absorb a mana core. It cannot be divided. It cannot be shared."

I let my gaze sweep over each of them, my eyes burning with an unholy fire. "I did the most in this battle. My strategy was the key to our victory. My sacrifice of my own puppet was the blow that crippled the beast. I expended more of my own power than all of you combined."

I pointed a finger at the colossal corpse. "That power belongs to me. I will absorb the core. I will become the strength this team needs to survive. I will become the vessel for the power that will win us this war and bring Edgar back."

The silence that followed my declaration was thick with shock and a dawning, horrified resentment.

"You can't be serious," Masha finally said, her voice dangerously quiet. She had been silent until now, but my blatant power grab had finally drawn her out. "You want to take it all for yourself? Again? We all fought. We all bled. Talia was nearly petrified! Eric's shield is destroyed! That power belongs to the team!"

"There is no 'team' when it comes to a prize like this!" I shot back, my voice sharp and cold. "Only one person can take it! Even if I hadn't proposed this, what would you have done? Fought amongst yourselves for it? Let our team dissolve into a bloody free-for-all like Derek's pack of animals? I am making the only logical choice. The power must go to the one who can wield it most effectively. It must go to our leader."

"That's not leadership, Dante, that's tyranny!" Jin snarled, stepping forward, his hand on his sword.

Erica immediately moved to stand between us, her hands sparking with fire. "He's right!" she declared, her voice ringing with fanatical devotion. "His strength protects all of us! A dozen weaker members are useless compared to one unstoppable leader! We need him to be as strong as possible!"

"She's right," Lana added, her voice a low purr as she came to my other side. "Stop being so sentimental. Strength is the only currency that matters here. And Dante is offering us the best possible return on our investment."

The team was fractured. Masha and Jin stood glaring, their faces masks of betrayal. Eric looked conflicted, his loyalty to me warring with his sense of fairness. Talia was watching silently, her expression unreadable. Rina and Kael just looked terrified, caught in the crossfire.

"It is pointless to argue," I said, my voice a final, absolute judgment. "Even if you disagree, you cannot stop me. I am the strongest. I am the leader. The core is mine." I looked at Masha, at Jin, my eyes daring them to challenge me. "This is the only way we all survive. By making me a god."

I turned my back on them, a gesture of ultimate dismissal, and walked toward the corpse of the serpent, leaving them to choke on their resentment. The argument was over. The decision was made. They could either accept their place in my kingdom of lies, or they could try to stand against a tyrant who was about to become a god. And we all knew how that would end.

More Chapters