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The entire group was thrown amidst the rubble.
Dust rose in a brutal whirlwind, swallowing the air, the sound, and hope.
Even with Stella and Dan uniting their forces to contain the impact, Dante's attack pierced through their defense as if the world had split in two.
Amara was hit.
Tekio too.
The ground trembled.
Stella and Dan emerged staggering, covered in cuts and burns that stung like live embers.
Stella, panting, raised her hands, releasing a golden wave of area healing—her glow flickered, faltering, but enough to stem the blood flowing in rivers from everyone's bodies.
Tekio, however, gushed blood from his forehead.
The wound opened by the previous blow pulsed violently.
The warm blood ran down his face, mixing with the dust.
He couldn't feel Yara.
The silence inside him was despairing.
And he didn't know if the effect of Hazau's interference was temporary… or the definitive end of their connection.
The dust began to settle, thick and heavy, as if the air refused to move.
It was then that Tekio murmured, between short breaths:
— He used... the Veil.
They all felt it.
A distorted, impure, almost living energy.
The ground groaned, the air vibrated.
When the dust finally cleared, the Veil stood before them—a curtain of ethereal energy that distorted everything around it.
Amara rose with effort.
Her gaze laden with hatred and despair.
— Maybe it's better to run… — she said, through clenched teeth. — No matter how much I hate him, no matter how much I want to kill him, Dante is too strong.
She averted her gaze to the horizon, where the sky no longer trembled with the resonances of another battle. — If Mei won… if she's still alive… maybe she can handle him.
Her words were bitter, but sensible.
Tekio, however, felt something was wrong.
Why would Dante use the Veil?
Why on Hazau?
It made no sense.
Tekio's wound closed under Stella's healing light.
They looked at each other.
The decision was clear: retreat.
Survive.
But then…
The presence.
It came from within the Veil, like a rising tide.
Heavy.
Ancient.
Monstrous.
A roar.
The Veil split.
And the world seemed to stop.
There he was.
Dante.
No trace of Hazau remained—but his essence floated, like a corrupted remnant, now fused with Dante's body.
The King of black flames smiled, and the air burned around him.
— It was worth the wait — he said, his voice deep and resonant. — Hazau did the dirty work. Collected good essences, fused with the Abyss… all so I could absorb him at the right moment.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
— I wanted to do the same with Mei… but Hazau was a good appetizer.
Sooner or later I will extinguish that irritating flame of hers and devour her.
The aura emanating from him was massive.
Suffocating.
Cruel.
No one could move.
It was like being before death itself, as if the slightest gesture was an invitation to slaughter.
Dante looked around, bored.
— It wasn't fun. — His voice was cold. — Hazau didn't beg. He just… accepted.
He raised one finger, as if recalling a curious detail. — Before dying, he said something interesting. He said a certain 'Tekio' would give me trouble.
The silence grew heavy.
Dante smiled.
A smile that tore the air like a blade.
— Is it true?
He took a step forward.
The flames around his body rippled like living shadows.
— The first time we fought, you were just a rabid dog. I only didn't kill you because my new body was still adapting…
He spread his arms.
The black fire covered the ground.
— But now… it's time.
Dante's eyes shone with scorn.
— No separating souls. No interference. Just me and you, Tekio.
He laughed, low.
— Bring your friends too. Try hard.
The ground beneath him cracked with the power he emanated.
— I want them to see how far they can go before they die.
His laugh echoed.
— I'll make a point of showing you all to Mei… before I absorb you.
The silence that followed was deadly.
Not even the wind dared cross that devastated field.
The dust, once suspended, now settled slowly upon the destroyed ground—as if the world itself held its breath before what was about to happen.
Tekio, Stella, Dan, and Amara... were paralyzed.
There was nowhere to run.
No more hope for reinforcements.
No Emperor would come to save them this time.
They were alone.
And before them, just a few steps away, Dante.
The same man who had killed Tenklyn.
The same monster who now wore Akira's body like a war trophy.
The same demon who fed on pain and turned every memory into fuel for chaos.
Stella's heart pounded like a bomb about to explode.
Blood boiled.
Hatred burned inside like acid.
She could see her brother's face amidst the black flames emanating from Dante.
Tenklyn… smiling… before exploding in the sky to save everyone.
She couldn't forgive herself.
She just couldn't.
If she were stronger, she could have helped.
And now he was there, laughing.
Using Akira's body, a dear friend, who amidst the attacks had saved Dan and Stella from a demon that would have blown up the entire area.
If Akira hadn't existed, Stella would have died in front of Dan months ago.
But this wasn't the same man, it was Dante.
Laughing at them.
Laughing at her.
Stella wanted to drive her blade into his skull, hear the sound of tearing flesh and watch him shatter in flames.
But she couldn't move.
Her legs trembled.
Her body knew what her soul denied: there was no chance.
Amara, beside her, felt the same pain—the same wound that never healed.
She too knew what it was to lose someone.
To know the past would never return, that anger wouldn't bring back the dead.
But even so... she wanted to.
She wanted to destroy Dante.
She wanted to make that cold gaze disappear.
She wanted to avenge her sister.
Tekio stared intently, eyes narrowed.
Anger burned in him, but there was something deeper: powerlessness.
Dante was beyond anything he had ever faced.
Hazau was a nightmare, but he came from another plane.
Dante did not.
Dante was human—or had been.
And that was the true terror.
— How... — Tekio thought, his heart racing. — How can a human be like this?
But perhaps he was no longer human.
His energy was insane, growing, alive.
It was something that surpassed the limits of any being.
Even the Emperors.
"Are we on their level?" Dan thought, swallowing dryly, the flames trembling in his hands.
"Can we… even fight…?"
The sound of Dante's footsteps echoed, calm, firm.
Each step was a blow to the heart of those who heard it.
His smile wasn't one of pleasure—it was of absolute superiority.
A predator before prey pretending courage.
— So... — he said, his voice like muffled thunder. — Not going to move?
He spread his arms in an almost theatrical gesture.
— I'll grant you the first move. — His eyes rose, fixed on Tekio. — At least… until I change my mind.
The silence was broken only by the distant sound of a stone rolling among the rubble.
"It's now or never,"Tekio thought.
"If he attacks first… we won't even get to see it."
Dante tilted his head slightly, the smile returning, darker, colder.
— Come, children.
Those words cut the air like blades.
They were not an invitation.
They were a sentence.
And in that instant, the world seemed to bend around Dante.
The shadows moved, as if the darkness itself obeyed him.
The ground groaned.
The air grew heavy.
Hearts beat in despair.
They knew.
There was no escape.
No hope.
No salvation.
Only Dante.
And the end that walked with him.
The group stood immobile.
Not by choice, but by pure impossibility.
The pressure emanating from Dante was crushing—as if the air itself had been replaced by incandescent iron.
Breathing hurt. Thinking was almost impossible.
Merely existing in the presence of that being seemed an affront.
Tekio, Dan, Stella, and Amara were paralyzed, watching Dante as one stares into a breathing abyss.
He didn't need to move. His mere presence was enough.
Then, with the tone of one dictating a long-decided sentence, Dante spoke:
— Amara... — his voice dragged, venomous. — I didn't imagine you'd side with them like this. But… I won't pretend to be your father anymore.
The silence was murderous.
Amara felt her stomach churn, her eyes burning with rage and fear.
— From now on — Dante continued, with a disdainful smile — you will be treated as what you always were: a weapon.
You're polished enough now. You don't need coddling anymore.
The words cut like blades.
And then, he stretched out his hand.
Black and crimson flames serpentined around his arm, intertwining like living snakes. The air hissed, the ground cracked, and a violent energy vibrated around—the harbinger of a blow that would destroy everything.
Tekio shouted:
— AMARA!
And ran.
He didn't think. He didn't plan.
He just launched himself against the inferno.
Dan and Stella moved too, seeking any angle, any distraction they could cause.
But it was useless.
Dante had already accumulated enough energy to obliterate everything before him.
Until —
BANG!
A dry, loud, cutting sound.
A gunshot echoed like thunder among the ruins.
For a moment, no one understood.
Only the echo of the shot hung in the air.
And then… blood flowed.
From Dante's skull.
The impact was brutal, abrupt, almost poetic.
His head tilted to the side, his body swayed as if reality had hesitated.
The abyssal energy dissolved, fading into the air like dark mist.
The blow he was preparing was nullified.
Everyone stood static.
Amara's eyes widened, Tekio's heart raced.
Dan clenched his fists, trying to believe what he saw.
Dante staggered, blood streaming in thick rivulets down his face—but he did not fall.
He remained standing, sustained by a primitive rage, his gaze empty and manic, like a wounded god.
It was then that Dan acted.
Without hesitation, he charged.
His body exploded in spiritual flames, the impact of his feet cracking the ground.
He roared, channeling all the fury, pain, and fear he held—and struck Dante squarely, a blow so powerful it shattered the air around them.
Dante's body was thrown far away, smashing debris and ancient walls upon impact.
— RUN! — Dan shouted, his voice hoarse, urgent.
No one thought twice.
Stella held Amara, Tekio got up even wounded, and together they ran, stumbling through rubble, trying to gain any distance possible from that hell.
They didn't know what had happened—who had done it—but they knew they had been saved.
And, without seeing, they gave thanks.
On top of a distant building overrun with roots, under the gray sky torn by smoke, a female figure adjusted the weight of the rifle on her shoulder.
Smoke still rose from the barrel.
Elise.
Her gaze was cold, calculated, but there was something more—a weariness, a contained anger.
Behind her, two agents from the squad adjusted equipment, monitoring the area's spiritual heat.
One of them broke the silence:
— Perfect shot, Elise.
She didn't respond.
She merely watched, her eye still fixed on the scope, tracking the group fleeing through the ruins.
Then, she murmured—only to herself:
— It's not over yet.
The wind blew, carrying the smoke from the barrel.
And the silence returned—heavy, like the harbinger of a new storm.
Elise's short, blond hair danced in the wind—curly, soft, and yet imposing under the gray light filtering through the clouds. Each strand seemed to reflect the tension hanging in the air as she kept her cold gaze fixed on the still-smoking rifle's scope.
The suit she wore was of impeccable military cut, full of medals and lines embroidered in green and silver, symbols that shone with seriousness and made clear whom she served—the Emerald Gate.
Behind her, the other agents and researchers shared the same emblem on their uniforms: a circle intertwined with a sacred tree, marking the most respected and mysterious scientific and tactical division among the world's forces.
Elise inhaled deeply, maintaining an erect posture, her hand still firm on the trigger. Her expression showed no euphoria or fear—only calculation. She had spoken with Danteus recently, knew reinforcements were on the way. But waiting would be an insult to the memory of those who had died before.
Haruto, Amina, Kael, Elara… names that echoed like open wounds. Each of them had fallen fighting to stop the Abyss from swallowing the world.
Staying put would be the true dishonor.
Elise had never been a front-line combatant—her strength was in intellect, precision, analysis. And yet, as a member of the Emerald Gate, she knew there were moments when thinking fast wasn't enough. Action was needed.
Her philosophy had always been simple:
"There is no definitive technique. Just be excellent at what you are capable of.
And when the moment comes, use it in the most useful way possible."
And that moment had come.
Minutes before the shot, the tree—the spiritual heart of the region—began emitting irregular signals, pulsing with distorted energy. Elise, with instinct and experience, gathered a small group of researchers and set out on a field mission.
Part of the team stayed at the base, collecting samples and trying to develop an anti-abyss solution.
But Elise… she chose to go personally.
They crossed debris and ruins until they neared the tree, but the roars revealed a fight between an abyssal regent and youths fighting for tomorrow.
A different approach was then studied; reconnaissance of the situation was the initial priority, a privileged vantage point was key. An old building was spotted, partially collapsed but still stable. The structure offered perfect camouflage and a strategic viewpoint. From there, she could observe the entire battle between the youths and Hazau, the chaos of lights, screams, and spiritual power.
And then—his presence.
Dante.
The air seemed to shatter when he appeared. The spiritual pressure emanating from him was oppressive, monstrous. Elise felt her aides tremble, but her eyes remained impassive.
She adjusted her aim.
Calculated the wind.
The weight.
The distance.
The exact point between one heartbeat and the next.
— Target fixed.
— Breathe low.
— Nobody moves until the shot.
The crosshair found the T of death, a spot between Dante's temple and the nape of his neck, as he stood arrogantly, about to incinerate the youths.
And then, without hesitation…
Bang.
A bullet altered in its structure, with a collapse that would disrupt his energy momentarily.
The dry sound echoed through the devastated buildings, followed by an explosion of spiritual smoke. Blood streamed down Dante's face—a moment that seemed suspended in time.
The shot didn't kill him, but it paralyzed him. His energy wavered, opening the breach Dan needed to charge like a flaming bolt and knock him down.
From her observation point, Elise lowered the weapon slowly.
The barrel still emitted a wisp of smoke.
Her gaze, now softer, watched the youths fleeing through the ruin, as the wind carried the echo of the shot.
— Run. — she murmured.
— Excellent shot, Captain — said the soldier aide beside her.
— Excellent would be if this demon had never existed — she replied directly. And continued in a firm tone — Let's stay on alert. Cover will be essential now.
The Emerald Gate had acted.
Not with armies, but with precision and purpose.
And as the sound of battle faded in the distance, Elise reloaded the rifle, her gaze fixed on the horizon—where she knew more shadows still waited.
To be continued…
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