Dante walked slowly through the ruins of an ancient city. The air was thick, laden with miasma and an almost supernatural stillness.
There were no demons around him, only silence, which seed heavier than any battle he had faced thus far. The structures were partially lted, as if consud by lava ages ago, and shadows danced on the broken walls, created by the incandescent light emanating from magma fissures on the ground.
He glanced around, his sharp eyes analyzing every detail. "There's no one here..." he murmured, his voice echoing in the empty ruins. "Strange. On the ninth layer, I expected to find... legions upon legions of demons."
Then, he spoke to himself—or rather, to the presence within him. Alter-Dante, his living shadow and distorted conscience, hovered beside him, floating like a dark reflection. "What happened here, Alter?" Dante asked, his voice laced with curiosity and caution. "Why is it so... empty?"
Alter-Dante laughed, a guttural sound like tal scraping against stone. "This city, like all of Hell, is a constant battlefield. Naturally, there are areas where demons dominate and where the weak are subjugated. The only hierarchy here is the law of the strongest."
"And why is there no one here?" Dante narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively gripping the spear he carried. "What happened to this place?"
Alter-Dante drifted slowly, gesturing to the ruins around them. "This was one of the first cities of Hell. A place where condemned souls and demons coexisted... before the Great Demon War. When that war began, this city was the first to fall. All life was drained from here, leaving only an echo of what once was."
Dante frowned. "And no one ca back? Not even to claim the territory?"
"No one with common sense," Alter replied, his tone growing darker. "But sothing tells this quiet won't last. Hell has been in chaos ever since Lucifer and Asmodeus started their war. And you, my friend, are one of the few creatures wandering freely without picking a side. Chances are, the armies are gathering near Qlippoth."
Dante snorted. "I don't need sides. I just need to know where the next target is. Besides... hiding near Qlippoth is just courting true death. That tree will devour everything to survive."
Alter-Dante chuckled again. "At least we're on the sa page. I think the sa..." He then tilted his head as if analyzing sothing unseen. "Speaking of which, Dante... how many souls do you think you've consud since you reached the ninth layer?"
Dante paused, crossing his arms as he thought. "Good question. I lost count after the first million. Does it matter?"
Alter-Dante smirked, his shadowy eyes glinting with malice. "More than you realize. Every soul you consu doesn't just strengthen you—it brings you closer to sothing greater. Sothing even you aren't prepared to face."
Dante scowled, his patience beginning to wear thin. "Out with it, Alter. What are you implying?"
Alter hovered in front of Dante, his dark form almost rging with the surrounding shadows. "I'm saying you're on the brink of transcendence. Your body is at its limit, carrying more souls than should be possible. If you keep going, evolution will be inevitable."
Find your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire
Dante smiled, but there was sothing wild and dangerous in his gaze. "And that's a problem?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." Alter-Dante shrugged. "It depends on how you handle the power. Honestly, ascending to an Infernal Progenitor Dragon is a solid plan. But with the 1,743,004,044 souls you've consud so far, I'm afraid you might not evolve into a dragon... but a Demonic God."
Dante raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stared down his own floating shadow. "A Demonic God, huh? That sounds... interesting."
Alter-Dante circled him like a predator stalking its prey, his tone dripping with provocation. "Interesting, yes. But risky. Ascending to a Progenitor Dragon would grant you pure power and control. Becoming a Demonic God, however... well, let's just say the line between you and absolute chaos begins to blur."
"Absolute chaos, is it? Then I won't even need Qlippoth," Dante repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Still, I understand the risks. We'll keep everything properly calculated. When I ascend to a dragon, I'll deposit all the souls into Qlippoth to avoid a God Ascension."
Alter-Dante sighed, as if expecting that response. "Very well, Dante. If that's your decision, keep devouring. But rember: even gods have enemies. If you beco a Demonic God, there's no turning back... and you'll attract attention. Attention that could be fatal, even for soone like you."
"Sure, sure," Dante replied, waving his hand dismissively.
He continued walking until he felt a familiar aura in the midst of the strange city.
"Hm?" Dante paused, his gaze fixed on an imposing figure in the center of an arena. There was sothing fascinating and eerily familiar about the woman before him. The atmosphere seed to shift, growing heavier, as if her very presence dominated the surroundings.
She sat in a ditative posture, a massive sword embedded in the ground before her. Its black blade shimred faintly, almost alive, pulsing with a nacing energy. The woman was incredibly tall—easily over three ters—and every inch of her exuded raw power.
Her physique was a masterpiece of strength and discipline. Well-defined muscles contoured her athletic build, a body worthy of a demonic warrior. Despite her evident power, there was a subtle grace to her, even as she remained perfectly still. Her face was a blend of untad beauty and ferocity: high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and eyes that seed to pierce straight into the soul. Her pitch-black irises were as deep as the abyss, contrasting with neon-red pupils that pulsed like glowing embers.
Her long white hair cascaded down to her waist, shimring faintly under Hell's dim light. Two ebony horns, elegantly curved back, completed her demonic appearance, making her even more intimidating. She wore only the essentials: strips of cloth wrapped around her generous chest and black leather armor that accentuated her athletic figure, leaving no doubt she was a creature of war, forged in the heat of battle.
Dante couldn't help but grin. He recognized that presence, that unmistakable aura of power. She was a symbol of strength, destruction, and respect—but also soone with whom he had unfinished business.
"Akira!" Dante called out, his voice echoing through the arena, brimming with a mix of excitent and challenge.
The woman opened her eyes slowly, the glowing red of her pupils intensifying as they locked onto Dante. A lazy, yet ferocious smile spread across her lips as she raised her head with an air of superiority, unhurried and deliberate.
"Well, well, look who decided to show up…" she said, her deep, lodious voice reverberating through the arena, her smile never faltering. "You had the nerve to co see . Or maybe it's just recklessness."
Dante took a few steps forward, stopping at the edge of the arena. He gestured dramatically, his usual grin lighting up his face. "Recklessness? You know I'm not that stupid... or maybe I am." He shrugged, a teasing air in his posture. "Either way, it's been a while, Akira. A long while. Who would've thought I'd find you... ditating? That doesn't suit you." He crossed his arms, clearly amused by the scene.
Akira raised an eyebrow but remained silent, observing him with her glowing eyes as if analyzing every detail.
Dante, ever the provocateur, continued, leaning slightly forward with a mocking tone. "I thought you were more the type to yell, 'HAHAHAHA, I'M GOING TO CRUSH YOU!'" He imitated her voice and laugh dramatically, waving his arms as if wielding an invisible weapon. "Like that one ti, rember?"
Akira's expression shifted subtly. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her eyes still held that fierce intensity.
"I still owe you a fight, don't I?" Dante said, his voice dripping with provocation but also with a sincerity only he could deliver. It was as if he was genuinely looking forward to the confrontation, though he had no intention of rushing the mont.
Akira tilted her head slightly, as if recalling sothing. Then, a rare sound escaped her lips: a short, ironic laugh. "How interesting…" she murmured, gripping the hilt of her sword.
Then, in a calculated tone, she countered, "And how about we delay our fight? Didn't you say sothing similar years ago, Dante? During the demon invasion? Oh, what was it again?" She forced her voice into a deep, sarcastic imitation.
"'I need to save my wife and your mother, so we can fight in Hell without worrying about destroying everything around us.'" Akira recited perfectly, mimicking Dante's words from back then. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she watched his reaction.
For a mont, Dante stood dumbfounded, blinking in disbelief before bursting into a loud, genuine laugh. "You rember that?! I thought no one else did!" He stepped back, still laughing, then raised a finger. "But honestly, Akira, I was right back then, wasn't I?"
She shrugged, the smile still on her face. "Maybe. But know this—I never forgot that you ran from a fight that day. And, Dante…" Her tone grew serious, the glow in her eyes intensifying. "This ti, there will be no excuses."
"Fair," Dante replied, regaining his composure, though his grin remained. "But before that, how about we handle so other business? You and I have plenty of ti to face each other. But it seems Lucifer and Asmodeus are still at each other's throats. If that idiot woman isn't stopped, the world might end sooner than expected." He gestured toward her as she picked up her sword, resting it on her shoulder.
"Let's go. I've always wanted to kill Lucifer," she said with a grin.
Reviews
All reviews (0)