Regression of the Tower's Final Survivor-Chapter 62: Conditional Rescue

The clearing was a slaughterhouse in progress.

Dante crouched on a branch thirty feet above the carnage, invisible in the shadows cast by the bioluminescent canopy, watching Seira’s team die.

There were five of them, or five before the Spore Wolves found them. Now there were four, the fifth reduced to a wet stain on the jungle floor that the wolves were already fighting over. The survivors formed a desperate circle with their backs to a massive tree, weapons out and terror written across every face.

Spore Wolves weren’t the most dangerous predators in the Whispering Jungle, but they were among the most insidious. They looked like normal wolves at first glance, grey fur and yellow eyes and lean hunting build, but their bodies were hosts for a fungal infection that made them relentless. Every wound they inflicted spread spores into the bloodstream, and within hours the victim would either turn feral or dissolve into a new fungal colony depending on their constitution.

There were maybe twelve of them circling the survivors, darting in to snap at exposed limbs before retreating into the undergrowth. They weren’t in a hurry because they didn’t need to be.

"Dante." Astrid’s voice was barely a whisper from the branch beside him. "What are we waiting for?"

"I’m watching."

"Watching what? They’re dying down there."

"Not yet." He focused on Seira, who stood at the center of the defensive circle with golden light flowing from her palms. She was healing the tank in front of her, a big guy with a shield that looked like it had seen better days, while simultaneously stabbing at any wolf that got too close with a knife that was far too small for the task. "I want to see what she does."

"See what she... Dante, this is insane."

"Is it?" He didn’t look away from the fight below. "She followed us into a jungle that kills experienced climbers. She brought a team that’s clearly not ready for this floor. Either she’s desperate enough to take stupid risks, or she’s got a plan I haven’t figured out yet. Either way, I need to know which before I commit resources to saving her."

A wolf lunged for the mage at the back of the formation, and Seira was there before anyone else could react. Her knife opened its throat in a spray of dark blood, and she was already turning to the next threat before the body hit the ground.

"Show me you want to live," Dante murmured.

Another wolf attacked, then two more simultaneously, and the formation started to buckle under the pressure. The tank took a bite to his exposed forearm, the teeth sinking deep before he bashed the creature away with his shield, and Seira’s healing light intensified as she fought to keep him standing.

She was crying. Tears streamed down her face as she worked, but her hands never shook and her voice never cracked as she called out warnings to her teammates.

"Left flank! Torian, watch your left!"

"There’s too many!"

"Then kill faster!"

The wolves pressed harder, sensing weakness, and Dante watched as two more of Seira’s teammates went down with wounds that would spread spores through their system within the hour.

"Dante." Ren’s voice now, heavy with disapproval. "We need to move."

"Not yet."

"People are dying."

"People die every day in the Tower." But even as he said it, he felt something shift in his chest, the cold calculation warring with something older and more familiar. "Fine. I’ve seen enough."

He dropped from the branch.

The fall was forty feet, and he landed in the center of the wolf pack like a meteor strike. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, scattering the nearest predators and drawing every eye in the clearing to the figure rising from the small crater.

"Evening," Dante said, and drew his sword.

What followed wasn’t a fight. It was an execution.

He moved through the wolves like water through a sieve, blade singing as it carved paths through fur and muscle and bone. Each stroke was precise, economical, designed to kill with minimum energy expenditure and maximum efficiency. Wolves lunged at him and died before they landed, their bodies forming a ring of corpses around his moving form.

The rest of his team followed a moment later, dropping from the trees to mop up the survivors. Astrid’s axe took three in as many seconds, Ren’s shield crushed one against a tree trunk, and even Leon managed to incinerate two with a burst of flame that was stronger than anything Dante had seen from him before.

Twelve wolves dead in under thirty seconds.

The clearing went silent except for the harsh breathing of the survivors and the soft drip of blood from a dozen cooling corpses.

Dante flicked his blade clean and approached the remnants of Seira’s team. They stared at him with expressions that mixed relief and terror in equal measure, their weapons hanging loose at their sides because they saw enough to know those weapons were useless against someone like him.

Seira stood at the front, her healing magic still glowing faintly as she tried to save the two wounded teammates behind her. Up close, she looked exactly the way Dante remembered: beautiful, soft, and carrying that warmth that made you think she actually cared about people.

He knew better.

"You," he said, stopping in front of her. "Followed us."

It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t treat it like one.

"Yes." She met his eyes without flinching, which was either brave or stupid depending on perspective. "I had to."

"Had to." Dante reached out and, very deliberately, wiped his blade clean on her cloak. The blood left dark stains across the white fabric, and he watched her flinch at the disrespect without backing away. "No one had to do anything. You chose to track a party that told you to leave them alone, through a jungle that clearly wants you dead. Why?"

"Because you were right."

"About what?"

"About me." Her voice cracked slightly, but she kept going. "In the crystal city, you said I was weak. A moth looking for light to cling to. You said you needed wolves, not followers." She gestured at the carnage around them, at her fallen teammates and the wolves she’d helped kill. "I came here to prove I could be something more than a moth."

"By getting your team killed?"

The words hit her like a physical blow, and Dante watched her expression crumble before she forced it back under control.

"I didn’t... we were supposed to stay in the outer ring. We got lost. The jungle shifted, and suddenly we were deeper than we should have been, and then the wolves..." She trailed off, looking at the body that used to be a person. "Jace didn’t deserve this."

"Most people don’t deserve what the Tower gives them." Dante sheathed his sword. "How many of you are left?"

"Four. Me, Torian, Vanya, and Helena." She pointed to each in turn, the tank with the bitten arm, the mage who looked ready to pass out, and a rogue hiding behind them who couldn’t have been more than seventeen. "The others..."

"Are dead or dying." Dante looked at the two wounded. "The ones who got bitten have spore infection. It’ll spread through their bloodstream within six hours, and after that, they’re either feral or fertilizer."

"I can heal them."

"Healing magic doesn’t work on spores. It’s a fungal infection, not a wound. You need antifungal compounds or high-intensity purification magic, and I’m guessing you don’t have either."

Seira’s face went pale. "Then... what do we do?"

Dante looked at Sera, who nodded and stepped forward.

"I can try," his healer said. "My holy affinity might be enough to purify the infection if it hasn’t spread too far." She knelt beside the bitten tank, her hands already glowing with warm golden light. "But I need time and quiet."

"You have until dawn." Dante turned away from them, surveying the clearing for threats. "Everyone else, we secure the perimeter. If more wolves come, we kill them. If anything bigger than a wolf comes, wake me up."

"What about them?" Astrid jerked her head toward Seira’s remaining teammates.

"They’re with us now." Dante looked at Seira, at the hope flickering in her eyes and the gratitude she was clearly trying to contain. "Conditionally. You follow my orders without question. You contribute to the group or you get left behind. You cause problems, I solve them personally and you won’t like my methods."

"I understand."

"You carry our bags."

"What?"

"You heard me." Dante picked up his pack and threw it at her feet. "Porter duty. You wanted to prove you weren’t just a moth? Start by being useful."

Seira stared at the pack, at the clear insult to her pride and status, and for a moment Dante thought she might refuse. The old Seira, the one from his memories, would have bristled at being treated like hired help.

But this Seira, the one standing in a clearing full of dead wolves with teammates who might not survive the night, just nodded and picked up the pack.

"Where do you want me?"

Dante smiled, and it wasn’t a nice smile.

"Behind everyone else. Where I can see you."

He walked away to check the perimeter, leaving her standing there with his pack on her shoulders and her pride in the dirt.

Astrid fell into step beside him once they were out of earshot.

"That was harsh," she said.

"It was necessary."

"Was it? She just watched friends die and you made her carry your baggage."

"She followed me into a zone that was too dangerous for her level, got people killed because of it, and now expects me to be grateful she survived." Dante’s voice was flat. "I’m not here to make people feel good about their choices. I’m here to keep them alive long enough to learn from their mistakes."

"And if she can’t learn?"

Dante thought about Seira, about the future where she smiled at him, told him she loved him and then walked away the moment someone stronger came along.

"Then she becomes someone else’s problem."

Astrid was quiet for a long moment.

"You really don’t trust her."

"I don’t trust anyone."

"You trust us."

Dante stopped walking and looked at her, really looked, at the berserker who’d followed him into hell without questioning why, who trained until her arms gave out because he told her it would make her stronger.

"I’m trying to," he said finally. "It’s harder than you’d think."

Astrid held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

"Good enough," she said. "For now."

They resumed the patrol, and behind them, Sera worked to save lives that might not be worth saving while Seira watched with her pack on her shoulders and her future suddenly, irrevocably different from what she’d planned.

The jungle whispered around them, and somewhere in the darkness, things with too many legs and not enough mercy were already crawling toward the scent of blood.

Dawn was a long way off.