I stood before the colossal corpse of the Gorgon-Hydra, my back to my team. Their silence was a physical weight, a mixture of fear, resentment, and a desperate, unwilling faith in my tyranny. They were my audience, and the stage was set for my ascension. I ignored the simmering hatred from Jin and Masha, the conflicted loyalty in Eric's eyes, and the cloying, possessive stares from Erica and Lana. They were irrelevant. All that mattered was the prize.
Placing my hands on the cold, adamantine scales of the beast, I closed my eyes and reached inward, not for its spirit, but for the nexus of its power—the S-rank mana core. I found it, a blazing, furious star of raw, untamed energy nestled deep within the creature's chest.
The moment my will made contact, the devouring began.
It was not a gentle absorption. It was a violation. It felt like I was trying to swallow the sun. A torrent of pure, chaotic power, utterly alien and a thousand times more potent than anything I had ever touched, flooded my system. My veins ignited with a white-hot fire. My bones groaned, threatening to crack under the sheer pressure of a power my mortal body was never meant to contain. A scream tore its way from my throat, a raw, agonized sound that had nothing to do with my calculated performances and everything to do with the feeling of my soul being ripped apart and forcibly stitched back together, larger and more monstrous than before.
The world dissolved into a vortex of pain and light. I was vaguely aware of my team crying out in alarm, of Erica trying to rush forward, only to be held back by Masha. Their voices were distant echoes in the hurricane raging within me. The Hydra's power was not just energy; it was a torrent of primal memories, of eons spent sleeping in the black mire, of the savage joy of the hunt, of an ancient, lonely godhood. It was trying to overwrite me, to dissolve my consciousness in its own vast, primordial existence.
But I was a tyrant. And I would not be unseated from my own throne.
I gritted my teeth, blood pouring from my lips, and fought back. I anchored myself to my own cold, empty core—the loneliness that had been my shield for so long. I used my ambition as a weapon, my will as a cage. I didn't just absorb the power; I conquered it. I broke it. I remade it into something that was mine.
The process felt like an eternity. When it was finally over, I collapsed to my knees, my body trembling uncontrollably, drenched in sweat and blood. The fire in my veins receded, leaving behind a new, profound, and terrifying power. My mana pool, once a lake, was now a vast, bottomless ocean. The Manacore Pendant felt cool against my chest, its doubling effect now amplifying a power that was already beyond comprehension.
I looked down at my hands, and a slow, terrifying smile spread across my face. It was a smile of pure, ecstatic agony, the expression of a man who had stared into the abyss, devoured it, and found it delicious.
But the task was only half-finished. The power was mine, but the spirit remained. I now had the capacity to hold it, but taming it was another matter entirely.
"Dante…" Erica whispered, her voice trembling.
"Stay back," I commanded, my voice a low growl. I pushed myself to my feet, my body still shaking. "I'm not done."
I turned back to the corpse. I had seven summon slots, a gift from Edgar's stolen soul. Five were currently occupied: The Guardian, The Crimson Juggernaut (Derek), The Orc Champion, The Anchor (the Graviton user), and The Cornerstone (Edgar). The Hydra, an S-rank entity, was not a common soldier. It would require more of me, more space, more power. My intuition told me it would take at least three slots to house a spirit of its magnitude. I had only two to spare.
A sacrifice was required.
"Anchor," I commanded. The spectral form of the Graviton user appeared. It had served its purpose, but its utility was limited. "I release you." With a thought, I severed the tether. The shadow dissolved, its power flowing back into me. One slot free. Still not enough.
My gaze fell upon my remaining puppets. The Guardian was my shield, essential for my own survival. Edgar was the lynchpin of my great lie, untouchable. That left Derek and the Orc Champion. The Orc was pure physical power, a brutish but effective frontline. Derek was a shock trooper, a symbol of my victory over my first true rival. Which one was more valuable?
The choice was logical. The Orc Champion, for all its strength, was now redundant. Why command a brutish warrior when I could command a god?
"Orc Champion," I called. The massive, spectral orc materialized, its violet eyes burning. "Your service is at an end." I released it. The second puppet dissolved, its considerable power flooding back into my soul. I now had four free slots. More than enough.
I placed my hand on the Hydra's head once more. This time, when I reached for its spirit, I was not a thief trying to steal a jewel. I was a king, demanding tribute from a conquered land.
The ancient consciousness met my will, not with the passive resistance of a mountain, but with the active fury of a caged god. It thrashed against my mind, a tempest of primal rage. It showed me visions of worlds drowning, of mountains crumbling, of stars dying. It tried to terrify me with its sheer, cosmic scale.
But I was not a boy from an orphanage anymore. I was a monster who had devoured a star.
"You have no choice," I snarled, pouring my new, boundless ocean of mana into the fight. "You are a beast. You are a weapon. And you belong to me. KNEEL!"
My will became a black hole, my command an absolute, irresistible gravity. The ancient, primordial spirit, for the first time in its eons-long existence, knew fear. It fought, it raged, but it could not resist a will that was colder and emptier than the void itself. With a final, silent, soul-shattering shriek of surrender, it broke.
A shadow, so vast and dark it seemed to drink the very light from the swamp, rose from the Hydra's corpse. It was not a simple silhouette. It was a being of living darkness, a nightmare given form. Seven heads, each with eyes that burned with a captured, violet starlight, turned to face me and bowed in perfect, subservient unison.
My new army was forged. Four summons, the pinnacle of my power.
First, The Guardian, my unwavering shield.
Second, The Crimson Juggernaut, my vengeful shock trooper.
Third, Edgar, the ghost of my lie, my loyal analyst.
And now, my masterpiece, my ultimate weapon, taking up the last slots of my soul: Ouroboros, the Abyssal Shadow.
I stood before them, the master of a pantheon of monsters, my body thrumming with a power that felt limitless.
We rested for three days. It was a necessity. My body needed to acclimate to the divine power now coursing through it, and my team needed to recover from the brink of death. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken things. Masha and Jin treated me with a cold, wary distance. Eric was quiet, his loyalty seemingly unshaken, but his eyes held a new, troubled depth. Erica and Lana's rivalry continued, a constant, low-grade war fought with poisoned whispers and possessive glares, their battlefield the few feet of space around my person.
On the fourth day, we began to move. Zone C, which had once been a place of oppressive dread, was now my kingdom. The monsters that dwelled here, the Shadow Hounds and Armored Beetles, fled from our approach. They could sense the S-rank power radiating from me, the scent of a new, far more dangerous apex predator. We walked unopposed, a silent, grim procession moving through a forest that held its breath.
After another two days of travel, we reached the edge of our domain. Before us lay a chasm, a deep, jagged scar in the earth. On the other side, the landscape was different. The air was sharper, colder. The trees were taller, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching for a sky that seemed a shade paler. A crude, heavily fortified wall, built of sharpened logs and rough-hewn stone, was visible in the distance. A watchtower stood sentinel. We had seen signs of other teams before, but this was different. This was a settlement. A fortress.
We had arrived at the border of Zone B. The nursery was far behind us. The real game, the war against the other "heroes" for the final prize, was about to begin.