We found a semblance of sanctuary in a small, defensible hollow, miles from the serpent's grotto. The adrenaline had long since faded, leaving behind a deep, bone-wearying exhaustion and the phantom stench of venom and blood. The psychic backlash from my puppets being dispelled had subsided, but it left a lingering ache in my mind, a stark reminder of my own limitations. We were victorious, but we were also wounded, depleted, and vulnerable.
Talia sat on a fallen log, her attention completely consumed by her prize. The Viper's Kiss Daggers lay across her lap, their serpentine, obsidian blades seeming to absorb the dim twilight of Zone C. They were more than just sharpened steel; they felt alive. A faint, sickly green aura pulsed from them, and Talia said she could feel a cold, predatory consciousness humming within the metal. When she gripped their leather-wrapped hilts, she described a flood of new knowledge entering her mind: not just how to wield them, but the subtle arts of the assassin. Feints that led to fatal stabs, pressure points that could paralyze with a single touch, and a dozen different ways to apply their magical, unending poison. She was no longer just a fencer. She was now a master executioner.
While Talia was engrossed with her new toys, a different kind of battle was being waged over me.
"You need to rest," Erica insisted, trying to press a damp cloth to my forehead. "You're still pale."
"He doesn't need coddling," Lana countered, pushing Erica's hand away. She held out a piece of dried meat. "He needs energy. His mana is depleted. Eat this, Dante."
"He needs to be comfortable, not force-fed like an animal!" Erica snapped, shoving Lana back. "Get away from him!"
"You get away from him! Your reckless power is half the reason he's drained in the first place!" Lana retorted, her hand tightening on her staff.
They stood glaring at each other over my seated form, two lionesses fighting over a kill. It was pathetic. It was irritating. And it was incredibly useful. Their rivalry made them predictable, their actions easy to manipulate.
"Enough," I said, my voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through their bickering. They both fell silent, looking at me with expectant, hopeful eyes, each waiting for me to side with them. I gave my attention to neither.
My gaze fell upon Edgar. He was sitting nearby, diligently cleaning his glasses, his face still etched with the memory of the battle. He looked up and met my eyes, offering a small, grateful smile. He was the picture of unwavering loyalty. He was the perfect lamb, waiting patiently for the slaughter. But the time was not yet right. A sacrifice must be made at the opportune moment for maximum gain, and that moment had not yet arrived.
The time was now to secure our next advantage.
"Talia," I said, my voice regaining its command.
She looked up from her daggers, her focus absolute. "Yes, Dante."
"You have the best eyes. I need you to scout the path ahead. We'll be heading toward the Manacore Pendant next. The route on the map looks treacherous. I need to know what we're walking into. Go a mile out, mark any potential threats or ambush points, and return. Do not engage anything."
"Understood," she said without hesitation. She rose, gave her new daggers a final, appreciative glance, and then melted into the purple gloom of the forest, disappearing as if she were never there.
One variable removed. Now for the other two.
I let out a soft, pained groan and pressed a hand to my side, feigning a wince of agony. Erica and Lana were instantly at my side.
"What is it? Is it your wound?" Erica asked, her voice filled with panic.
"The water we have stored is stale," I said, my voice weak and raspy. "My body needs pure energy to recover its mana. Stale water won't do." I looked from one to the other, a flicker of feigned vulnerability in my eyes. "The map shows a stream a few hundred yards to the east, and another to the west. I don't know which one will be cleaner. Please."
It was all I needed to say.
"I'll go west! It's probably a mountain stream, it'll be purer!" Lana declared, already turning.
"The eastern one is closer! He needs it now!" Erica shot back, sprinting in the opposite direction.
They were gone, each one desperate to be the first to return, to be the one who quenched my "thirst," to earn my favor. Their rivalry had made them blind and foolish.
And now, I was alone with my loyal, unsuspecting teammate.
"Edgar," I said, my voice still weak.
"Yes, Dante?" He immediately came over, his expression full of earnest concern. "Are you alright? You look terrible."
"I'm just drained," I lied, leaning back against a tree. "The psychic backlash from the puppets… it takes a toll." I patted the ground beside me. "Sit with me for a moment. Keep watch while I recover."
"Of course," he said, sitting down eagerly. He drew a small knife and began to sharpen a stick, his eyes scanning the perimeter. He was a loyal dog, guarding his master.
"You were brave today, Edgar," I said softly. "Your call-outs saved us more than once."
His face lit up with a proud, happy blush. "I was just doing my part. You're the one who saved us all, Dante. Your strategy… it was incredible. I've never seen anything like it. And saving Kael, even when we were so outmatched… you're a true leader."
"I do what is necessary for the team to survive," I said, my words a hollow echo of the truth.
"I know," he said, his voice filled with a deep, unwavering sincerity. "That's why I trust you. We all do. We'll follow you anywhere." He looked at me, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated hero-worship. "I owe you my life, Dante. If there is ever anything you need, anything at all, you just have to ask."
"I know, Edgar," I said, a cold, empty smile on my face. "I know you do."
This was the moment. Talia was gone. The girls were gone. It was just me, my loyal puppy, and the silent, watching trees. My heart beat with a steady, calm rhythm. The temptation was immense. A single, swift motion was all it would take. His mana core, fattened by my design, would be mine. My power would increase. My path would be clearer.
But I held back. Not out of mercy. Not out of guilt. But out of pure, cold calculation. Killing him now would be sloppy. The girls would return soon. Talia was an expert tracker. They would find the body, and questions would be asked. Suspicion, once planted, was a weed that could choke even the most loyal team. No, the harvest of my own teammates required more finesse. It required a perfect opportunity, a moment of chaos where a death could be blamed on a monster, or an accident.
I would be patient. I would continue to play the part of the noble, burdened leader. I would continue to feed him, to nurture his loyalty, to make him feel essential. I would make him believe he was a valued member of the pack, right up until the moment my blade slid between his ribs.
His life was a resource I had invested in. And I would not cash it in until it had reached its absolute peak value. I smiled at him, a warm, reassuring smile that did not reach my eyes. "Thank you, Edgar. I'm glad you're on my team."
He beamed, completely oblivious to the fact that he was sitting next to his own patient, calculating executioner.