CHAPTER 18: DEMANDED A SACRIFICE

Dante sighed as the Death Wraith giggled, trying to act normal, and he sat down in the corner while pulling out a loaf of bread and some ale he got from the survival gear. He began drinking as the two women curled up in the corner. Hours passed, and the human leader he met on the road appeared in front of the cage, a horrified expression on his face.

This put a smirk on his face, before he lied to the man. ’’The big one escaped and said he’s coming for you.’’

When the idiot heard this, his eyes bulged before he rushed off, causing him to let out a chuckle. Once the human was gone, he continued eating until getting tired, thanks to everything. Dante’s eyes closed to rest, by the time he woke up, Ashvale’s square was full with men, women, and children celebrating the summer sacrifice.

When noticing this, his eyes gleamed. ’So many corpses for the Dead Camp,’ he mused as his excitement skyrocketed.

Just then, the crowd was dragging two men, struggling against the guards, but it was useless as the captured human was too weak. The villagers tied them to the pyre while a priest chanted some jibberish about the Light Goddess. His eyes narrowed as the pyre was lit and the men started to burn, which brought back memories.

Dante shook his head, checking his status to distract himself.

[Name: Dante Ashbourne]

[Class: Death Monarch]

[Level: 75]

[Experience: 9320/15,000]

[Rank: E]

[MP: 261]

[HP: 228]

[STR: 282]

[DEX: 303]

[INT: 193]

[CHA: 131]

[DP: 1430]

[Skills: SSS: Arise (1) SS: Death Blast (2) SSS: Death’s Domain (1) SS: Death’s Harvest (2) SSS: Death Eyes (1) Dagger Mastery (2)]

Dante noticed his Intelligence was low and decided to put thirty Death Points into it, as it will help whenever he uses magic.

[INT: 193223]

[DP: 14301400]

Following that, he took a break until the morning came and the sun lit up the surrounding village square, people stepped out of their homes, waiting to see if the summer sacrifices worked so they could tend to the field. He noticed there were dozens of Darkmoore soldiers standing around, causing his excitement to skyrocket. ’I’ll leave a few alive to tell the story, the kingdom needs to hear about this.’

Dante turned to the Heralds, commanding in a dark voice. ’’Wait for the signal, then transform. You’re free to kill whoever you like.’’

Just as he finished, a group of humans approached the cage, and the Demon in disguise pointed at him. ’’Use that boy, I guarantee his death will grant us a bountiful harvest, I put a months wages on it.’’

Dante’s heart raced, a thrill surging through him at the chaos about to unfold. He rose and strode toward the door. Rough hands seized him, yanking him from the cage as the leader looked at him. ’’Unfortunately, it’s come to this, but we need food and the Goddess demanded a sacrifice,’’ the human commented.

After the man’s words, the Darkmoore soldiers dragged him toward the pyre, its flames crackling as the village children stoked it, their faces twisted with cruel sneers. People started throwing rotten vegetables at him. Dante’s wild smile grew wider as the thought of the bloodshed excited him.

He ignored the Humans while being led to the pyre. Once there, they tied him to the post only for a system quest to pop up, which gave him the green light to act.

[System Quest: Kill them all, my Chosen! Show me why I was right in making you mine! Make these filthy humans regret turning to the Light Goddess - Reward: 2000 Death Points + New Skill + A New Weapon]

Dante’s eyes widened like saucers at the reward. A sudden, manic laugh tore from his throat, echoing through the tense air as his aura erupted and his face twisted into something pure evil. The guards froze, their faces twisting. One raised a fist to strike him, but before it could land, an armored hand clad seized the man’s wrist.

From a swirling portal, the Black Knight emerged, its hollow red eyes glowing with unholy light. In the same instant, Raoul materialized and sliced a guard in half with a single, brutal stroke. Blood sprayed across the dirt, and the surrounding villagers recoiled in horror, their screams piercing the dawn.

Dante, his wrists now free from the restraints, rose to his full height, arms outstretched. His voice dripped with sinister glee. ’’Kill them all! Spare no man,woman or child. They wanted to kill me for their crops! Let Ashvale drown in death, my soldiers!’’

A tide of undead erupted from the shadows. Wolves lunged, their jaws shredding through a fleeing family. Goblins, cackling wildly, swarmed the soldiers, their jagged blades carving through armor and flesh. ’’You wanted to burn me just like the others!’’ he shouted in rage after cutting down several people who tried to attack him. ’’Now you will feel the same pain those prisoners and my Black Knight felt!’’

He stepped forward and called for his heralds. ’’Ladies! Capture the six men who hurt you and bring them to me!’’

Just then, two horrifying screams erupted from the cage as Mary transformed into her Death Wraith form, and Mariana did the same as the White Lady. The duo went wild and sliced through the crowd while killing anyone in reach. The villagers’ desperate attempts to escape were futile; the slaughter was relentless.

Dante stood amidst the chaos, feeling a surge of experience flood his body like a torrential wave, each death fueling his dark power. From the swirling mists of his Domain, the Death Bears lumbered forth, their roars shaking the earth. Sulla, the Death Lich, and Medea, the Plague Maiden, alongside the remaining monsters, materialized beside them, their presence amplifying the carnage.

Ashvale’s doom was absolute, and his wicked grin stretched wider as flames devoured the village under his wrath. From the smoke-choked sky, Death Bats screeched. Their talons snatching screaming villagers, hoisting them aloft before ripping them apart in a gruesome frenzy.

’Fucking hell!’ he thought, dodging several spells from a Rank F Darkmoore mage.

Dante rushed forward and cut apart the man who didn’t stand a chance against him. This caused him to mutter in fascination. ’’Using a dagger is better than a sword, faster and faster strikes.’’

Blood rained down, painting the ground in crimson streaks, as the air filled with the anguished cries of the dying. Dante stood at the heart of the massacre, his crimson eyes reflecting the inferno, reveling in the chaos unleashed. The massacre in Ashvale was a symphony of death orchestrated by him.

From the shadows, the Black Knight emerged, his armor drinking in the morning light, his greatsword trailing arcs of cursed flame. Beside him, the Evil White Lady glided, her gown unstained by the carnage. Above, the Death Wraith hovered, the young woman’s cloak writhing like smoke, its hollow gaze freezing the souls of any who met it.

A Ghoul Warrior lumbered forward, its body a patchwork of decaying flesh and jagged bone. With a single swing of its rusted cleaver, it bisected a fleeing villager, gore splattering the smoldering ruins of a building. The air thickened as the Banshees wove through the chaos, her piercing shriek shattering the minds of those foolish enough to linger.

Men and women writhed in the dirt, clawing at their skulls as the undead wail carved through their minds like a jagged blade. Blood streamed from their eyes, ears, and mouths, their faces twisted into grotesque masks of agony. Some tore at their flesh, desperate to escape the torment, but the Ghoul Warrior ended their suffering.

Its festering bulk moved, its blood-crusted cleaver shearing a man’s torso from shoulder to hip. His scream dissolved into a wet gurgle as his innards spilled, steaming in the frigid air. Another swing decapitated a woman mid-plea, her head rolling into a ditch as her body crumpled, twitching.

Dante killed several guards using his dagger. Just then, he spotted the Black Knight rushing through the chaos, his blade a blur of dark fire. A group of militiamen raised their swords, only to be cleaved in half, their armor splitting like parchment. The Evil White Lady laughed, her voice a chilling melody, as she extended a hand.

Spectral chains erupted from her fingertips, binding a fleeing family. Their skin blistered and peeled under her touch. The Death Wraith descended, its skeletal hand grazing a priest’s forehead. His eyes rolled back, his body collapsing into a withered husk as his soul was torn free, consumed by the wraith’s endless hunger.

Goblin Shamans skittered through the carnage, their crimson eyes alight. Their guttural chants summoned black tendrils bursting from the earth like serpents. A cluster of villagers, clinging to a futile prayer, were ensnared.