Chapter 212: Chapter 205: Another storm
[Aethel]
[The Grand Colosseum]
Millions of spectators still sat frozen, their voices a collection of shock, awe, horror, and exhilaration. The titanic screens hovering above the arena, broadcasting the impossible destruction unfolding on the desolate planet effected all.
The earth had shattered.
The sky had burned.
The planet bore the scars of what could only be equated as the Gods’ wrath.
And at the center of it all—Mikoto, not a single injury. He was Invincible.
"BY THE GODS, ARE WE EVEN WATCHING A FIGHT ANYMORE?! OR IS THIS A MASSACRE?!"
The announcer’s voice cracked as he gripped the broadcasting device.
"LADIES AND GENTLEN, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO SAY! NO! NO, SCRATCH THAT! I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO SAY! THIS—THIS RIGHT HERE—IS NOTHING SHORT OF AN APOCALYPTIC NIGHTMARE!"
His voice bood across the stadium, amplified to reach even those seated in the highest sections of the stands.
"LOOK AT THE DESTRUCTION! LOOK AT THE WAY HE MOVES! LOOK AT THE WAY HE MOCKS THEM! THIS ISN’T JUST A BOY—THIS IS A MONSTER IN HUMAN FORM!"
His hands shook as he pointed at the feed, the crowd erupted in a thousand different emotions—
Betting slips were ripped apart in frustration. So onlookers prayed to their Gods, others collapsed into their seats, unable to comprehend the destruction they had just witnessed.
Sothing however, changed. One of the floating screens flickered—shifting and switching feeds, drawing attention away from the desolate battlefield.
A different battlefield.
A different kind of power.
And there—standing alone, was Dante. His long white cape draped behind him, fluttering gently despite the absence of wind.
Everything grew quiet, even the announcer’s breath hitched.
A new storm was about to begin.
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[???]
His white fur-frad cape billowed against the gentle winds.
Across from him, Gisèle trembled—not with fear, but with a maddened thrill. Her blood-red eyes dilated, lips twitching into an unhinged smile, bare feet pressing against the broken terrain beneath her, harder. Her body practically shook with uncontainable excitent, her bandaged arms flexing as her fist clenched.
("It is a great pity that Gisèle has been reduced to this. At the very least, Lyra can help nd her madness. I am not one for rcy; even so, putting her down would be decrepit,") Dante internally mused.
"Ohhh!" Gisèle giggled, her voice an erratic in that filled with delirium. "You stand there so proud, so pristine, like so distant, unreachable moon—I wonder do you ever dream of what’s inside the moon?" She tilted her head, cackling breathlessly. "Do you? Do you? Oh, but I know—it’s full of teeth, just like you~!"
Dante did not react. His arms remained folded, not a single muscle in his form shifting.
Beatrice scoffed, her eyes burning with annoyance. "Enough of this," she spat, her annoyance barely contained. "This bastard is standing in front of
instead of that damned brat Mikoto Yukio—I don’t have ti for this."
Aurélie said nothing. Silent, the split-haired woman rely raised a pale hand. Aithne stood back, observing.
Ezerald did not move yet; she was still not sure. She and Beatrice had fought Dante before, and he could have ended the fight that day anyti he wanted to. Even with two powerful Ancestors at her side, she could not help but feel uneasy still.
She frowned, watching as Gisèle moved first.
With a shriek of euphoric laughter, she lunged, her bare feet shattering the ground beneath her, launching her toward Dante like a human missile. Her right fist reared back, at the very last mont— he turned his head.
The mont her punch t nothing but air, a shockwave detonated from the force of her swing, obliterating the ground for miles. A massive rupture split the ground in half, falling outward with an earth-splitting roar. The shockwave ejected slabs of terrain into the sky, sending them spinning into the sky.
But Dante was gone.
Above her.
A shadow lood over Gisèle, and she looked up just in ti to see Dante’s white-caped silhouette descending at the sa ti Aurélie whispered.
"Reject."
Suddenly—space itself collapsed where Dante stood.
He twisted his body midair, and in the fraction of an instant, space itself folded where he had once been standing. The ground beneath him ceased to exist.
Simply... gone.
An entire section of the battlefield vanished into nothingness, leaving only a gaping, bottomless void where matter had once been.
Aurélie’s eyes slightly narrowed. A miss.
Dante reappeared behind them, standing near where the ground once was, his voice finally erged.
"You believe the absence of existence is enough to swallow ?" He tilted his head slightly. "Feeble."
Aurélie’s expression did not change, but her fingers twitched slightly.
Aithne humd. "Barely even trying, hm?"
Not having Mikoto in front of her was an annoyance and she needed an outlet. She was confident that with two Ancestors they could beat this monster, so Beatrice roared.
From her outstretched hands, an enormous wave of black fire erupted, a tidal force of cursed fire that surged across the wasteland, devouring everything in its path. The ground lted, the air cracked, the sky darkened.
At the sa ti Ezerald struck.
She raised her hand, and from above, five colossal swords materialized in a burst of mana, each as vast as a fortress. The very sa Divine Relic of the Forge Goddess, replicated in near perfection. And worse—each blade carried an unbreakable charm ensuring they would always strike their target.
"Die."
The swords fell.
The black flas crashed down.
Dante with one motion, he threw out a punch. The force that followed was not of this world.
A single, unrestrained wave of pure kinetic energy erupted outward. It ripped the skies apart, sent waves of pure force spiraling off the planet’s surface, and annihilated Beatrice’s inferno before it even touched him. The flas themselves bowed and dispersed, utterly erased from existence.
The swords shattered mid-descent, obliterated before they could even reach their intended path.
Ezerald’s breath hitched. Beatrice’s eyes widened.
"It’s useless." His voice rang out. "If you believe parlor tricks enough to smite be then you best give up now."
Aithne shook his head. "How very wrong." He chuckled.
Gisèle, she was laughing. Harder, louder and even more breathlessly.
"Ooooooh! THAT was beautiful!" She clutched her head, shaking with an ecstasy not ant for battle. "Aghh, aahh—I felt that in my bones!" She twirled, facing Dante, grinning with all the mania of a woman lost in bliss. "Tell , tell , tell —what’s in YOUR moon?"
Dante did not respond as Gisèle surged forward again, only this ti with Ezerald in tandem. The wasteland cracked apart under their acceleration, sending massive chunks of earth spiraling into the air as they burst forward—two forces of nature, bearing down upon Dante.
Ezerald manifested her divine armant—
A radiant spear, massive and burning, materialized within her grasp. A mimicked relic of the Sun Goddess herself, solar embers trailed in her way as she spun the weapon.
Gisèle, anwhile, giggled breathlessly, her salmon-pink hair whipping wildly, they struck.
Ezerald lunged forward, her spear arcing downward, the tip igniting the air as it tore toward Dante’s skull—
Dante shifted.
The radiant spear slamd into the earth—and in that instant, the world ruptured.
A blinding explosion erupted from the impact site, expanding outward. The land beneath it did not rely crack—it was annihilated. The shockwave that followed ripped across the area, shattering distant cliffs, sending them collapsing like dominos. The atmosphere itself scread in protest, Dante was no longer there.
Before the explosion could consu him, he had already vanished from its path.
Ezerald’s eyes barely had ti to widen before—
Gisèle struck.
With mad glee, she spun mid-air, her bare foot whipping toward Dante’s head, a strike infused with enough force to bend the land. The air around her foot imploded, the pressure of her kick warping the air, yet she struck nothing.
Dante had already moved.
Again, it was a simple tilt of his body. Were Gisèle it any right state of mind she would have known how foolish it was to engage him in physical battle.
"Fufufu~! My my my! That was a good one!" Gisèle purred, her blood-red eyes dilated with excitent, her breath coming out in eager pants. "Did you feel that? That was for you~" Her voice dripped with sothing twisted.
But she had no ti to revel in her amusent.
The sky turned black.
A thousand obsidian spearheads materialized in the air above them. Beatrice joined the fray. Her burning gaze locked onto Dante, and with a snarl, she unleashed hell. The black spearheads—massive, serrated, each one as large as a boulder—ca crashing down.
Not one.
Not ten.
Dozens upon dozens.
They fell like cots of ruin, their descent so rapid that the sky wept with the force of their arrival. The area quaked,
Dante still did not uncross his arms.
A step to the right—a spearhead shattered the land where he once stood. A tilt of his head—a spearhead carved through the air re inches from his helt. A shift of his weight—a dozen more spearheads whistled past him, missing by fractions of a hair.
Not one struck.
Not one even grazed him.
Ezerald grimaced, Beatrice’s snarl deepened.
Gisèle, she moaned? She really was not in the right state of mind. "Ahn~! Fuuuuh! I can barely stand it!" She trembled, her entire body shivering as if Dante’s very presence alone was enough to send her into a state of pure bliss. "You’re divine, more so than even the one in the moon! Just—just let
taste you! Let
break you! Let —"
She never finished.
Dante’s arms unfolded.
And in a single, lightning-fast motion—
His hands shot out.
A single gesture and two throats caught in an iron grip.
Ezerald choked, her eyes widening in disbelief, she could not even react
Gisèle shuddered. "Oh~
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