Zhe Ha closed in and slammed Dante against the stone wall of a building. The impact cracked the surface, sending dust and shards scattering into the air.
With a growl, Zhe Ha grabbed him by the neck and dragged him upward along the wall, the rough surface tearing at Dante's coat.
He slammed him again—once, twice—before hurling him high across the city, straight toward the looming Castle of the Vidalier Kingdom.
CRASH! THUD!
Dante crashed through the castle's outer ramparts, bouncing across the stone bridge before plunging into the river below.
He skipped like a stone across the water's surface before finally slamming into the grand throne inside the castle hall, breaking it in half.
Groaning, he pushed himself up, blood streaking down his face, dripping from his chin to the floor.
His breaths came heavy and ragged, each exhale burning his lungs. He slumped back into what remained of the throne, forcing a grin despite the pain. His eyes glowed a deeper, feral red with every heartbeat.
"Kila, status report on my condition."
His voice echoed in his mind, a telepathic link to Kilimahi.
"Kid, the first stage of using my form—the black tattoos etched across your body—should be enough to keep Zhe Ha at bay for now."
"Then what's the bad news?" Dante muttered, staggering to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth.
"The bad news?" Kila's voice grew grim. "If you want to beat him, you'll need to go to stage two. That means your skin turns white... and you'll start losing yourself."
Before Dante could reply—
CRASH!!!
The ceiling above burst open as Zhe Ha descended like a meteor. The crystal chandelier shattered beneath his landing, raining sparks and shards of glass across the throne room.
"Dante Ruthwilfer!" Zhe Ha's voice thundered through the chamber, filled with raw rage and hunger.
"I will kill you today and rip out that infinite mana foundation—then wear your skeleton as a garland!"
Dante spat to the side, blood mixing with saliva, his smirk defiant and wild. He rose from the broken throne, rolling his shoulders, every movement oozing reckless confidence.
He lifted a trembling hand and gave Zhe Ha the middle finger, his grin twisting into a maniacal glare.
"Less talk. More blood, fuck face."
Zhe Ha took one heavy step forward, and the marble floor beneath him shattered into a crater. In a blur, he lunged, driving his spear clean through Dante's abdomen. The impact sent a shockwave through the hall, toppling statues and cracking pillars.
Dante didn't scream—he gritted his teeth and pushed himself deeper onto the weapon, blood spilling freely down his front.
With his free hand, he jabbed Zhe Ha's ribs again and again, his knuckles splitting open with every hit.
"Get off me, peasant!" Zhe Ha roared, trying to shove him away—only to realize his spear was no longer in his grasp.
Dante's hand gripped the shaft, his red eyes glowing like twin embers. He smirked, voice low and cruel.
"My turn, little man."
Zhe Ha's expression twisted in shock just as Dante drove the stolen spear straight back toward him, the sound of tearing flesh echoing through the blood-soaked throne room.
In a blur of motion, Dante shot upward, appearing right in front of Zhe Ha. He drove a brutal uppercut into Zhe Ha's gut, the force detonating through his body like a cannon blast.
Zhe Ha's eyes widened as his breath was ripped from him. He was launched skyward, smashing into the painted ceiling. Cracks spiderwebbed across the artwork before it exploded from the impact.
"PUHAAKK!!!" Zhe Ha coughed up a spray of blood, the sound echoing through the hall. But before he could even twitch, Dante was already there—rising in a blink, faster than sight.
Dante's palm struck Zhe Ha's face with bone-crushing force. Gravitational energy pulsed through him as he pinned Zhe Ha against the fractured ceiling.
With a snarl, Dante began slamming his head again and again—up and down, up and down—each impact cracking the stone further, dust raining like ash around them.
The air trembled with each hit, and the room filled with the sound of rage, flesh, and breaking stone.
Dante drew his fist back, muscles coiling with raw fury. Every ounce of strength, every fragment of rage, gathered into that final blow. With a sharp exhale, he unleashed it—his fist rocketing forward and smashing into Zhe Ha's chest.
The impact cracked the air itself.
Zhe Ha was blasted through the throne room roof, soaring high into the sky like a meteor thrown in reverse.
"Oh no… you ain't goin' nowhere, fucker-roo."
Dante muttered darkly, his grin twisted. In a blink, his form vanished—and reappeared above the clouds.
THUD!
His boot connected with Zhe Ha's ribs, the strike sending the man hurtling down toward the city.
Before Zhe Ha could even crash—THUD!!—Dante was already there again, driving his knee square into Zhe Ha's nose.
The bone cracked, blood sprayed in the air, and Zhe Ha spiraled down, smashing into the ground in a devastating slide that tore through the castle courtyard.
Dante appeared above him once more—his red eyes blazing like molten fury.
THUD!!!
He struck down, his fist colliding with Zhe Ha's gut. The ground erupted in a massive shockwave, the earth splitting apart beneath them. Buildings crumbled. Half of the Vidalier Kingdom's capital vanished under the blast.
"So sad… NOT!"
Dante chuckled, raising a single bloodstained finger. He traced a slow, circular motion in the air in front of Zhe Ha's bloodied face, his grin stretching wider and wilder.
"Boop."
He tapped Zhe Ha's broken nose with a smirk—and time itself bent around them. The world twisted backward, rewinding to the moment when Zhe Ha was still pinned against the throne room ceiling.
"In your face, motherfucker!!!"
Dante roared, eyes blazing crimson. He repeated the same series of blows—but this time, he enhanced every strike a thousandfold.
The sound of his fists blurred into a single continuous roar, each hit shaking the castle's very foundations as he tore into Zhe Ha with unstoppable, godlike fury.
Zhe Ha came crashing through the rubble, dragged backward through the air by the force of the time reversal, until he slammed back into his own castle where the moment had originally taken place. He staggered, catching his breath, blood dripping from his lips.
He looked up—Dante was already walking toward him, slow and menacing, each step echoing through the throne hall.
Zhe Ha's eyes darted to the corners of the room. His men—dozens of Vidalier soldiers—stood hidden on each side, waiting.
"Get him!" he roared.
The soldiers leapt out at once, swarming Dante from every angle. One after another, they piled on top of him until the mound of bodies grew into a massive heap.
Metal clattered, boots stomped, and their shouts overlapped in chaotic panic.
For a moment, they thought they had him pinned. Then they felt it— a faint rumble beneath their piled bodies.
POWW!!!
A shockwave erupted from the center of the pile. Soldiers flew in every direction—
one was impaled clean through the stomach by the antlers of a decorative deer mount,
another skipped across the marble floor like a stone thrown across water, others slammed into pillars and walls with sickening cracks.
Zhe Ha didn't wait. With sheer panic twisting his face, he teleported himself out of the castle as fast as he could, vanishing in a flash of golden light.
Dante, now standing alone amid the wreckage, didn't even look toward his escape.
"Congrats, kid. You're on Stage 2. Your skin is all white now," Kilamahi said telepathically, her voice echoing in his mind.
Dante flexed his fingers, cracking his neck once, then his knuckles. "Honestly, I'm kinda feeling racist about this form. I know I'm dark-skinned, but still… feels kinda racist."
"Hey— that's the fucking War God half-form. Your hair and that fucking third eye haven't even changed yet, kid."
Dante rolled his eyes.
"Well that's comforting," he muttered.
He looked around—more soldiers were charging toward him from every hallway, screaming battle cries that were way too confident for their own good.
"Idiots," Kilamahi said.
"Idiots," Dante echoed, both of them thinking the exact same thing at the exact same time.
One soldier charged in. Dante caught him by the face mid-sprint and crushed his skull with his bare hand—the man's screams cutting off as bone, blood, and brain matter burst between Dante's fingers. The corpse dropped like a rotten sack.
More rushed at him from all sides. Dante moved—jumping, punching, tearing through them with savage precision.
He twisted one soldier's head clean off and threw it like a stone, shattering another's ribs.
He rammed his elbow through another man's sternum, ripping out the heart still beating.
He grabbed one by the legs and swung him like a mace, smashing him into three others until their bodies folded like broken dolls.
Another brave idiot lunged with a spear—Dante caught it, snapped the shaft, and jammed the jagged end through the soldier's mouth and out the back of his skull.
By the time he landed back on the ground, they were all unalive—bloodied heaps scattered around him, painted across the walls, the floor, and even the ruined throne.
"Shit… how many fucking soldiers does this damn Vidalier Kingdom have?!" Dante shouted to himself, wiping blood off his face only to smear more on.
"Kid, I'm gonna teach you something. It might be handy!"
"Handy?!"
"Follow my lead!"
Dante mimicked Kilamahi's hand gestures in his mind, feeling their movements echo through his own muscles. He chanted her scripture—the words leaving his mouth in her voice.
SPURRS!!!
A glowing sigil burst behind him.
"You fucking Goddess of fucking War…!" Dante hissed.
"Hehehe… not bad, right?"
"Fuck— you just love making my day better and better, old hag!"
"Kekeke… then show this old hag, kid. Show me how mass-fucking-carnage you can bitchin' be!!!"
Dante arched back as four monstrous arms tore out from his spine, dripping blood down his body. Veins glowed like molten metal beneath his newly white skin.
His laugh deepened—Kilamahi's laughter overlapping with his own.
"Let's fucking rampage, baby!!!"
They both said it together in their shared thoughts, eyes glowing red as the sun, grinning with hunger and ambition.
---
Chapter 43 — End.