Reincarnated as a Princess's Pet: With Trash Stats, but SSS-Rank Skill-Chapter 92: The Secret of Dante’s Necromancy

The battlefield fell silent. As if even the zombies hesitated to approach.

A few meters apart, Max and Dante stared at each other. Neither moved. Neither attacked. Measuring one another. Both breathing heavily. Their chests rising and falling. Sweat mixed with blood. Waiting to see who would make the first move.

Dante spoke first, a crooked smile on his face.

"Wasn’t it that you could do this all day?"

Max spat to the side, blood leaving his mouth. He wiped his forehead with his forearm, clearing the sweat.

"...of course."

He lifted his gaze. A tired smile.

"...I’m just getting warmed up."

Dante let out a low laugh.

"Same here. That was just stretching."

His hand slowly moved toward the necklace around his neck, which held a dark green gem.

He squeezed it, and the magic in the air trembled.

Max felt it—but it was too late.

Two bodies rose at his sides.

Zombies.

Their rotten hands clamped onto his arms instantly, gripping him tight.

Max’s eyes widened.

"—tch!"

He struggled. Tried to break free. But the grip was firm. His muscles tensed.

His teeth clenched.

"...so that’s your necromancy trick..."

He breathed heavily, staring straight at him.

"...the gem on your necklace."

Dante began walking toward him. Slow. Calm.

"You’re very observant."

His smile widened.

"But now that you’re trapped..."

He stopped right in front of him.

"...it’s useless for you to know that."

Max didn’t look away. Not for a second.

Dante leaned in slightly. Getting closer.

"Maybe I can’t kill you in one blow..."

His voice lowered.

"...but I can do it slowly."

He raised his hand—his only arm—and grabbed Max by the chin, forcing him to look at him.

"That’s better..."

He smiled.

"...you’ll suffer more."

And then—

Max bit down on his tongue. Hard.

Blood filled his mouth.

And he spat—right into Dante’s eyes.

A wet, unexpected hit.

Dante shut his eyes on reflex, just for an instant.

And that instant was enough.

Max tensed his body. Using the zombies’ grip on his arms, he twisted and launched an upward kick. Fast and direct. Aiming at the gem on the necklace.

Dante reacted. His hand moved, covering the gem. He blocked the impact.

But not completely.

The strike shifted—and connected.

With his jaw. A sharp crack rang out.

Dante’s head snapped upward violently.

A second of silence.

His body went still.

Then—

"...you’re starting to annoy me."

His voice came out crooked. Misaligned.

He raised his hand. Grabbed his own head—and forced it back into place. Bones cracked. One after another, snapping back together. Re-aligning. The sound was unpleasant. Revolting.

Max grimaced.

"...that’s disgusting..."

Dante looked at him. Cold eyes. And without warning, he struck. A punch straight to the nose. Dry. Brutal.

Max’s head snapped back. Blood burst from his nose instantly. His vision spun. A ringing filled his ears. The world blurred. But he was still standing. Trapped between zombies. And smiling. Barely.

Dante didn’t waste time.

Max could barely focus. The world spun. The ringing persisted. But he saw it—the devil’s silhouette tensing. Preparing the final blow.

"This is the end of your adventure, boy."

His voice was low. Cold.

He raised his arm. Ready to drive it into his face.

And then, the field filled with fog.

Violet smoke. Thick and heavy. Appeared out of nowhere. Wrapping around everything.

Vision vanished. The world became dense mist.

"...tch."

Dante clicked his tongue.

"That trick won’t work."

His voice echoed within the fog.

"You won’t stop me from killing this child."

Max smiled faintly. His face covered in blood. Unable to see. Unable to move. But trusting.

"...they’re coming..."

He muttered.

Dante moved forward anyway. He didn’t need to see. He could feel him. He raised his arm and struck. Straight at Max’s face.

But before the impact—something happened.

He was cut. So fast. So clean. He didn’t even feel it.

A second later, his arm fell. Separating from his body.

It hit the ground, echoing through the hall.

"...what...?"

Dante’s voice tightened.

Then, a figure appeared through the fog. A flash. Metal in motion.

"Sorry for the delay."

Neros’s voice. Calm.

He stood beside Max. His armor faintly glowing. Remnants of recovery magic surrounding him.

And on his chest, the acceleration seal.

Max let out a weak laugh. His head still spinning.

"...hey..."

His voice dragged, almost like he was drunk.

"Mind giving me a hand...?"

He tried to move. The zombies didn’t let go.

"...these guys aren’t cooperating..."

Dante reacted.

Even without arms, he moved—kicking.

It hit Neros straight in the face. The blow sent him flying backward.

But before he hit the ground, he vanished.

And reappeared—right in front of the devil. Again.

He spun once. A single, clean slash.

Dante’s feet separated from his body.

The torso dropped to the ground.

And even then, Dante laughed. Enjoying it.

Neros didn’t stop. He spun again.

His strikes cut through the zombies holding Max. The bodies fell apart.

Max collapsed forward—but someone caught him.

Dorian. He appeared at his side. His hand glowing.

Light covered Max, and the pain lessened. The dizziness faded.

Max’s breathing stabilized. His eyes refocused.

"...ah..."

He exhaled. Straightening up.

"I knew you wouldn’t leave me behind."

A tired smile. But firm.

He looked at Dorian.

"Over there..."

He pointed into the fog.

"...Moon got sent flying that way."

Dorian nodded. Without hesitation.

And disappeared into the violet smoke.

Max turned his head.

Neros was already at his side. Sword in hand. Ready.

Both of them facing forward.

And then—a wet sound.

Dante’s torso moved.

The bodies around him trembled. Crawling toward him.

Arms and legs tore off nearby zombies.

And began attaching themselves to him. Locking in. Fusing, like pieces.

A new arm. Then another.

Legs. Different. Poorly assembled. But functional.

The body reformed. It wasn’t the same—but it was whole.

Dante stood up. Slowly. He stretched his neck. Then his arms. Cracks echoed as everything settled into place.

"...how inconvenient."

He sighed. As if he’d been interrupted over something trivial.

Then he lifted his gaze, smiling once more.

Ready to continue.