Chapter Warning
This chapter contains themes of sexual violence, coercion, and psychological trauma. The content may be disturbing to some readers. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your comfort while reading.
Dante couldn't help but glance at the girl before him. Her skepticism and distrust irritated him. All she needed to do was obey, yet she struggled with even that. He felt he had failed to instil proper fear in her.
Sometimes, people needed to truly feel how insignificant their lives were to understand their place.
Authority was best established by demonstrating how easily life could be taken.
However, there was no one nearby he could kill to make his point, the two guards were basically in limbo, and he didn't want to reveal too much of himself to her just yet. Dante silently cursed the guards, who had secluded themselves in the room, indulging in their pleasures instead of doing their jobs they could serve as some useful tools to demonstrate his strength efficiently.
People lacked a certain quality that made them worthwhile, to him at least. Not all, though— some had value that far outweighed others.
He believed she was one of those people.
He could sense it.
Not literally, but something told him she would be of great use to him. He just didn't know how yet.
That was why he needed to show her his worth, his power, his authority—so that she would see how little she was before him. But just enough to make her seek his trust and power and to prove herself useful.
In simple terms, Dante wanted her to feel indebted to him. He was certain that sparing her would eventually benefit him, though he couldn't yet determine how.
When he chose to instil true fear in her using his sub-ability, Kinetic Overload, the results were more extreme than expected.
He had stored concentrated telekinetic energy into a dense sphere, intending to charge it to 30% of its max power. However, before he even reached that threshold, the system alerted him that the girl's mind was, well 'breaking'.
The sheer proximity to power beyond her comprehension had drowned out all hope—not just of surviving this moment, but of continuing to live at all. Death was one thing , but when one witnessed oblivion, there was no recovery from such fear.
According to the system, her psyche was collapsing, her will to live was eroding under the weight of his ability, basically she was experiencing an existential crisis.
Dante had to admit, he was impressed. If this mythical skill, which took up three or possibly five skill slots, lacked proper destructive power, he would have been sorely disappointed. He had chosen it over several other high-tier skills, and now, he was starting to understand why the Ten had approved of his choices. The sub-abilities alone were likely legendary-tier, perhaps even mythical-tier.
The system further explained that if left alone now, the girl would either take her own life or simply cease to function, letting death claim her in time. Her exposure to his power had corroded all desire to live. Dante was deeply satisfied in the ability. That was the kind of dominance he expected from a mythical skill. But that didn't mean he wanted her to die , she was an experiment after all.
Hence, after asking what to do , the system recommended he "heal" her mind. Using Mental Fortress and Mental Reformation, he didn't know how so he let "Second mind" operate and do it itself, he repaired the psychological damage he had inflicted. These skills not only erased the feeling of existential dread but also reinforced her mental defences, preventing regression in the long run. Unbeknownst to Dante, this combination had granted her resistance to all forms of mental control below level 50 of the legendary tier—a power far beyond her current standing.
When the girl finally calmed, she smiled.
Dante frowned hoping he didn't break her mind in the opposite manner, momentarily confused, he decided to ignore it for now, and quickly dismissed his curiosity. At that point He simply didn't care, focusing on the task at hand.
As they neared the far door, the sounds of pain, anguish, horrified cries, and brutal beatings echoed from within. Dante knew exactly what was happening inside—he had seen it countless times. More than that, he understood those sounds better than anyone else. He pushed aside the memories and glanced at the girl beside him. She was tense, fear evident in her posture.
Dante sighed. The girl seemed to hear it and, in response, steeled herself.
She understood.
The young lord pitied her—no, he worried about how she would react once he opened that door.
Determined not to disappoint him, she held back her tears, bracing herself for whatever horror awaited beyond.
Dante, however, found himself distracted. The girl… she was stunning. Her figure,—she was on the path to becoming a legendary beauty. Her outfit wasn't even particularly tight, yet it was clear she possessed a body that would turn heads wherever she went. And yet, he was stuck in the body of a ten-year-old. Life was cruel and time was slow, far to slow. Nonetheless, he recognized she was beautiful at the same time negating all sexual desire towards her. After all, she looked like a late teen.
Dante after all was a man with beautiful principles… 'In another life, if she was 20 I was 20. Alas… Anyway'
He tore his gaze away from the girl beside him and sighed in resignation. She was destined to cause wars in the future—her beauty was simply that overwhelming. Dante clenched his jaw.
'First thing I do when I hit eighteen is get myself nice cheeks to slap. I can't keep living like this. As a man who used to sleep with different women every two or three days, this monklike, virgin, bitchless lifestyle is beneath me.'
Dante luckily had enough time to release his frustration, while not in the way he wanted, he could relax by taking a few lives of those bastards inside.
As they reached a few wide steps before the door , And the cries and anguish , lewd moans of men , muffled cries of women and girls resounded increased , Dante, had his hands still in his pockets with a deadly calm expression on his face one that might cause the girl walking with Dante to assume it was an expression of a calm façade hiding righteous anger within.
Reaching the steel metal door, Dante used Telekinetic force, to create a force so strong that the metal steel door that was bolted and heavily secured, started creaking, then as if it were paper, it crumbled in and floated above the little boy dressed in pristine white robes.
The scene beyond the doorway looked like something torn from a nightmare.
Dozens of elven women were chained throughout the dimly lit room. Their clothing hung in tatters, many bearing bruises and injuries that revealed what the level of suffering they were subjected to. Some looked barely conscious, while others stared blankly ahead, their eyes devoid of life and hope.
Dried tears stained their faces, and not a single one seemed capable of resisting anymore.
The youngest appeared no older than a teenager, while the oldest looked to be in her early thirties.
Most were ordinary elves, with only a handful of dark elves among them. Yet race meant little in that room. Every one of them wore the same hollow expression, as though whatever spirit had once driven them had long since been crushed.
Roughly two dozen captives filled the chamber.
At the center of the room sat seven men, defiling the women with pleasured filled expressions. At the sound of the door being crushed and open, some rose abruptly upon noticing the opened door, while others remained in the act, laying between the lifeless expressions of the women, yet, their expressions shifting from confusion to apprehension. The captives around them recoiled instinctively, fear flashing through their otherwise lifeless eyes.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
The stench of sweat, blood, and despair lingered heavily in the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Beside Dante, the young dark elf stood frozen.
She had prepared herself for many things, but not this.
Her face twisted with disgust as her eyes swept across the room. Yet beneath that disgust lay something deeper fear. Not fear for herself, but fear born from witnessing the depths of cruelty people could inflict upon others.
Even so, she did not retreat.
Her legs remained firm, and her gaze never wavered.
The men finally turned toward the doorway, their earlier confidence fading as they noticed the unexpected visitors standing before them.
A handsome, slightly well-built lean looking elf let out a loud grown of pleasure as he found his high in the elven girl, who was letting out muffled cries of pain and anguish. The girls' hands were tied up as tears streamed down her face. The male elf smiled as he chuckled, he then slapped the girl a few times, bringing a stinging pain to her cheeks. The man than removed himself out of her and stood next to the bed, he walked towards the door to see the cause of the commotion.
Dante looked at all this with a calm expression.
Suddenly the girl next to him let out a loud distressed shout.
"Sister!"
The girl beside Dante cried out, her composure breaking. Her body, which had held firm until now, trembled as she locked eyes with one of the captives—a woman who bore a striking resemblance to her. The elf woman was chained against the far wall, her head slumped forward, torn garments barely holding together. The sight of her bruised and battered form sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through the younger girl's veins.