Rise Of The Death Monarch Chapter 9: You Wept For Him

Dante’s grin widened when a notification popped up.

[Death Points 8]

’So this is how the Demons felt whenever they killed a human,’ he mused as his curiosity skyrocketed.

These were the descendants of the sa wretched humans he’d bled for, fought for, only to be betrayed and burned alive by their so-called heroes. Now, their suffering was his ambrosia, each scream a balm to the phantom flas still searing his nerves. He stalked toward the remaining three, his boots squelching in the pooling blood.

’’Look at him,’’ he snarled, gesturing to the mangled corpse as the wolves feasted. ’’That’s rcy compared to what awaits you three if you don’t spit out every secret about the settlents and Darkmoor Kingdom.’’

As the trio absorbed his words, their eyes widened with a mix of dread and uncertainty, their breaths catching in their throats. His presence looming like a storm cloud, he took a deliberate step toward the blue-haired woman, his gaze piercing. His nacing voice, low and edged, cut through the tense silence. ’’Tell again, where did you say you ca from?’’

’’Dreadport!’’ she blurted out, trembling, her hands clutching the frayed edges of her cloak. ’’We’ve told you already, please!’’

Dante’s expression darkened, his patience visibly fraying. Just then, he struck her across the cheek, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the air. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, his irritation obvious. ’’Enough with the tears, they weren’t shed when you humans burned alive!’’ he snapped, his tone cold and commanding. ’’Dry your eyes and answer my questions properly.’’

The woman flinched, her cheek stinging, but she forced herself to nod rapidly, her wide eyes locked on his, afraid to provoke him further. Swallowing hard, she steadied her shaking as best she could, though fear still lingered in every syllable. Satisfied for the mont, Dante leaned closer, his shadow falling over her like a weight. His next question ca slower, each word deliberate, as if testing her resolve. ’’Now, think carefully. Are there any towns, villages, or even a single wretched hamlet between here and Dreadport?’’

The blue-haired woman’s eyes darted nervously, her breath shallow as she searched her mory under his gaze. The sting on her cheek throbbed, a sharp reminder of his impatience. She licked her dry lips, her stamring barely above a whisper as she answered. ’’There’s... the town of Thornebrook, which is a trade hub about a week’s journey north. Lastly, there’s Ashvale Village.’’

Dante’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly, processing her words. ’’Ashvale,’’ he repeated, the na rolling off his tongue like a predator tasting its prey. ’’Tell about it.’’

The woman nodded, her tone quivering but growing steadier as she spoke, desperate to appease him. ’’It’s a small farming village, just off the main road. Adventurers stop there... before they head into the Dark Forest. It’s the last safe place...’’

Her voice faltered, and she glanced at the ground, unwilling to et his piercing stare. His lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk. ’’Safe, you say?’’

Dante took a step back, his boots crunching against the dirt, giving her a mont’s reprieve from his suffocating presence. He paced slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, the faint clink of Raoul’s armor punctuating the silence. ’’And what kind of people pass through this... Thornebrook? Farrs? rchants?’’

His tone darkened. ’’Or others like you, skulking, lying types?’’

The woman shook her head frantically, her blue hair falling into her face. ’’No, no! It’s mostly farrs, honest folk. They grow crops, raise livestock. Adventurers stop for supplies, maybe a night at the inn. That’s all! It’s quiet, out of the way."

Just then, the hulking man stirred, eyes wide with horror when they locked onto him, finally understanding who his group had run into in the Dark Jungle. His voice trembled thanks to the fear as he scread. ’’You’re no human! You’re—’’

Dante’s laughter cut through the air like a blade. His head snapped toward the sound, a wicked grin spreading as his face twisted into sothing inhumane. ’’Death,’’ he finished the sentence.

In a blur, his hand clamped over the man’s horrified face. A pulse of black energy erupted from his hand as he cast ’’Death Blast.’’

The scream was short-lived. A sickening crack echoed as the man’s head vaporized in a burst of gore. The won shrieked in terror as the headless corpse collapsed to the floor, blood pooling like ink beneath it. Dante watched them scramble back, slipping on the blood-soaked grass, getting covered in gore.

One tried to crawl away, fingers trembling, nails cracking on stone. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His boots ground against chunks of brain and bone, the last traces of the giant. He tilted his head, observing them with a predator’s detached calm. The spark in his eyes had vanished, eclipsed by sothing ancient, frigid, and cruel. ’’You wept for him,’’ he said, his anger flaring. ’’Let give you a reason to truly weep.’’

The second of the won gasped, the blue-haired one clutched a pendant around her neck, praying to an unknown goddess. Dante warned in a nacing tone. ’’Prayers won’t reach your filthy deity here, Human.’’

In a single motion, he thrust his hand forward, impaling the first human woman through the chest and nailing her to a tree, activating his new skill. ’’Death’s Harvest.’’

Her scream was cut short, her body twitched violently, eyes rolling back before the life drained from her like a candle snuffed out, while it poured into him and refreshed his entire being. One tried to run, but he was already beside her. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to et his gaze.

’’Look into the abyss,’’ he whispered.

Thanks to Death’s Harvest, her flesh began to rot from the inside as he sent his necrotic energy into her body. She shrieked as her skin blackened, bones snapping under the weight of decay. In seconds, she was nothing but a twisted husk crumpling to ash in his hands. Dante stood amidst the silence, the stench of death thick around him. He exhaled slowly, as if bored and unbothered by the deaths.

’’Fragile,’’ he muttered in disgust. ’’All of them, these are the people I fought so hard for? Humans are the worst species on this planet.’’

Raoul stepped forward, his voice asured but curious. "Why did you kill those won? Couldn’t they have served... other purposes?"

Dante’s face twisted in disgust at the re suggestion. ’’Touch humans? Damn, no, they revolt . And I prefer older won, especially those of different races. Young, feral teenagers are unpredictable and untrustworthy.’’

As the words left his mouth, his thoughts flashed to Ashley. His aura surged forward and washed over the clearing, sending a ripple of fear through the Death Army as they quickly backed off.

’’That bitch will pay,’’ he growled, his voice thick with venom.

’’Do you hate humans, master?’’ the Death Scout asked. ’’And why kill them all?’’

’’A curious one you are, but yes, I do. They are vile, spiteful creatures who are scared of things that they don’t understand. If I let them leave this place alive, they would have co back and hunted for being evil,’’ he answered.

Following that, Dante ordered his monsters to gather the four dead humans as he decided to bring them into the Death Army. He rubbed his chin, looking at the lifeless blue-haired woman, and pointed at her.

’’Arise,’’ he activated his skill.

Dark, necrotic energy seeped from his body like a venomous mist, flowing into the human. It slithered beneath her skin, cold and corrosive, unraveling the warmth in her recently deceased flesh. Dante watched as her skin grew pale, mottled with sickly blotches that cracked and crumbled like ancient stone. Veins blackened beneath the surface, pulsating with a poisonous glow.

The healer’s eyes dulled, their irises fading to a milky gray before settling into a hollow, lifeless stare as the Death Mana took hold. Her blue hair hung in ragged strands, tangled and streaked with decay. As the transformation deepened, brittle spikes of bone protruded from her shoulders and spine, twisting her posture into a grotesque arch. Her breath ca in ragged, shallow gasps as she sank to her knees, trembling.

[C Rank Plague Maiden Created for the Death Monarch’s Army]

[Death Points 2]

Tears trickled down her cracked, ruined face. The woman was no more; in her place knelt his new Death Knight, an unholy fusion of death and despair, bound to his will. Dante smiled coldly as he reached out, lifting her chin. ’’Now that we have t, you have found your true purpose in your life, human,’’ he revealed. ’’Instead of burning like your kin did. You’ll heal , and my growing army, as I consu this world.’’

At his words, a spark ignited within the hollow depths of her dead eyes. The lifeless void flickered with newfound resolve, a grim determination burning beneath the rot. Monts later, the Plague Maiden rose. ’’Yes, Death Monarch,’’ she replied in an eerie voice.