CHAPTER 16: FUCK LOVE, ITS NOTHING BUT A CURSE

Dante felt the power surging through his body as his muscles tensed and his eyes closed, thanks to the feeling. He shook his head and spent seven hundred points on increasing the Death Army’s capacity to one hundred and fifty.

[Death Monarch’s Army: 36/150]

[Death Points: 27202020]

When feeling the change deep inside him, he then looked at his list of monsters, curiosity driving him as his red eyes gleamed.

[9 Death Goblins – Rank F]

[3 Death Wolves – Rank D]

[1 Goblin Death Lord – Rank D]

[6 Goblin Death Warriors – Rank E]

[2 Goblin Death Shamans – Rank E]

[Banshee – Rank D]

[Death Revenant – Rank D]

[Death Ghoul Warrior – Rank D]

[4 Death Bats – Rank E]

[7 Death Bears – Rank D]

[1 Death Bear Leader – Rank D]

[Death Knights: 3/4]

[Death Scout Raoul - E Rank]

[Plague Maidian Medea - C Rank]

[Deah Lich Sulla - B Rank]

As Dante saw this, his grin grew wider at the number of soldiers he had, but thanks to the world being chaotic, it wasn’t enough. Following that, he pulled out some bread from his pack and started eating. While busy with his snack, he decided to upgrade Raoul’s rank and attributes by two each, using six hundred and ten points to make the Goblin stronger, as he was the first Death Knight.

After thinking that, a notification popped up.

[Upgrade To Rank D for 600 Death Points]

Dante felt the Death Scout groaning from the Domain once he accepted the upgrade because it would help him get stronger. This made him laugh as the Goblin was making strange noises. Just then, its status popped up in his vision, surprising him once again.

[Name: Raoul]

[Goblin Death Scout Goblin Death Warrior]

[Rank: ED]

[MP: 1020]

[HP: 214]

[STR: 517]

[DEX: 618]

[INT: 820]

’None of the others need upgrading just yet, and I’ll save up my Death Points for now,’ he mused.

[DP: 20201430]

After that, he took out a blanket and wrapped it around himself before falling asleep as the exhaustion took hold. The next morning, he was woken up by one of the humans who stood a few feet away. ’’Boy! Wake up, we’re moving out,’’ the man said.

Dante’s eyes snapped open, making the human yelp in surprise. He chuckled while standing up as he spoke. ’’You know, I’m not going to spare you six, I’ll let monsters feast on your corpses.’’

Furious at the words, the man was joined by another, and they started pummeling him. His laughter, unhinged and chilling, echoed as blood streamed from a gash above his eyes. The pain, now a twisted rush, only fueled him further, unnerving his attackers. Minutes later, the leader’s voice boomed from the tent where the women were held. ’’Come on, boys, the village is a few hours off, and I’m craving an ale.’’

Dante chuckled, spitting blood onto the dirt as he rose, his gaze cold. The trembling females emerged covered in bruises, but he paid them no mind while trailing the men, a simmering urge to slaughter them for the beating. After that, the group continued walking until, in the distance, a medieval-like village emerged like a scene from a forgotten tale.

Its skyline was dotted with hundreds of thatched-roof houses. These homes huddled closely together, their timber frames leaning slightly, forming a tight-knit cluster around a bustling central square. As the group crested the final hill, the Ashvale village unfurled before him, and his smile grew wide at the thought of the death that would fall on this place.

Dante quickly noticed there was a wooden wall circling the settlement, thanks to being close to the Dark Jungle and all the monsters that lurk in the darkness. It stretched high, its surface scarred by time, but it safeguarded their way of life. He remained silent as they got closer, only to notice the sharpened spikes jutted skyward, their points glinting ominously in the daylight.

Every fifty paces or so, sturdy watchtowers appeared, their platforms perched like sentinels overlooking the wild lands beyond. ’Looks like it will be a hard fight, I need a heavy hitter Death Knight,’ he mused while turning his attention back to the wall.

From the vantage points, guards peered out, their gazes sweeping the horizon for the telltale dust of approaching foes or the flicker of torchlight in the night. The village’s protectors were no ordinary watchmen but dozens of Darkmoore soldiers. These warriors stood clad in dark, heavy armor that seemed to drink in the light, its blackened steel plates clanking.

Their helmets bore narrow visors, revealing only the glint of steely eyes beneath. Dark cloaks billowed behind them, embroidered with the crescent moon emblem of the Darkmoore Royal Family, a symbol feared by bandits and revered by those under its protection. They patrolled the wall’s perimeter, their longswords sheathed at their hips and crossbows slung across their backs.

Their presence was both a shield and a warning, ensuring Ashvale remained a bastion of order on Nemorath. A twisted smile crept across his face as he envisioned the village engulfed in flames when the moment was ripe. His gaze fixed on the settlement, only to be broken by a human guard shoving him. ’’Move, boy!’’

As the village gates creaked open at the leader’s command, Dante and the others stepped inside. The scene was just as he’d pictured, cobblestone streets winding past wood-and-stone houses, leading to a bustling village square. Ten minutes later, they were herded into a cage on one side of the square, full of people.

The human leader started beating the men and women who were fighting against their restraints. He noticed the big man shielding the two women, but it was useless. ’’Fucking animals,’’ he snarled, spitting at the ground as they threw them into the cage. ’’No one’s walking away from this, not even the bastard children.’’

At his words, the giant man who’d been protecting the women lifted his battered, swollen face, colored black and blue. His voice rasped, low and grim. ’’Can you kill them all, kid?’’

He glanced at the dying human and nodded. ’’Yes. You can be a part of that if you wish, but that means leaving your family behind and serving me.’’

The giant man sighed, shaking his head. ’’I can’t abandon them. They need me, especially after this disaster.’’

Dante shrugged, his gaze shifting to the pyre at the square’s center, where a young cat-woman, likely an adventurer from the south, was bound. The surrounding villagers roared with approval as a little girl darted through the crowd. His eyes narrowed as she was clutching a flickering torch, stepped forward to the pyre.

The bound cat-woman, her hair matted and eyes wide with defiance, strained against the ropes, but it was useless. ’Demi-Humans are just as bad,’ he thought.

He had heard many stories of the southern Demi-Humans are a vicious bunch of people who hunt everyone, some even eat the flesh of the captured. Moments later, the villagers’ cheers erupted into a roar as the girl thrust the torch into the kindling. Flames exploded, licking upward, and the cat-woman’s silhouette blurred in the heat.

Her piercing scream cut through the noise, sharp and fleeting, before dissolving into crackling fire. The sight of this unlocked deep inside him as the last vestiges of mercy for humans evaporated, he muttered in a tone full of menace that didn’t sound like his original. ’’They will all die! I’ll make sure the humans pay.’’

When the giant man beside Dante heard this, he trembled, his swollen face pale, his massive frame shrinking as the sight of his face twisted into something evil. His breath hitched, but he said nothing, eyes turned to the blaze. Hours later, the square had quieted, the pyre reduced to smoldering ash.

The older woman sat up while covered in blood, but Dante noticed something. A sickly, unnatural rot clung to her, invisible but potent, a disease gnawing at her flesh. Its presence was as clear to him as the blood on the ground. Death’s shadow coiled tight around her, and he knew she wouldn’t last the night.

He didn’t say anything as the man held his wife tight while mumbling sweet nothings that were foreign to him. ’Fuck love, it’s nothing but a curse to whoever comes across it,’ he thought while remembering Ashley, angering himself even more.

He noticed her frail body shuddered, and she forced her eyes open, locking onto the giant man. In a voice cracked with pain, she whispered. ’’Thank you, Henry, for making my life beautiful. Promise me... look after our girl.’’

Her final breath slipped out, and she went still. Henry’s face crumpled, tears streaming down his swollen cheeks as he choked on silent sobs, clutching her lifeless hand. The raw grief hung heavy, but he remained unmoved, his expression carved from stone. Moments later, the cage door rattled.

The younger woman was thrown inside and collapsed in a heap. Dante’s eyes narrowed as he sensed the same vile disease that had claimed her mother now gnawing at her, its invisible tendrils eating her from within.