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The dust had not yet settled.
As Dante lifted his face, Dan's white fire was already upon him.
A punch tore through the air, and the pressure exploded the space—Dante blocked with the shaft of his kusarigama, but the impact dragged him back dozens of meters, the ground buckling under his feet.
Dan did not stop.
He charged through the glare, vanished, and reappeared behind him, his energy moving like a living force, molding itself around his arms.
A kick—then another, a rapid, precise sequence that Dante intercepted by pure reflex.
The sound was a drumbeat of thunder.
Each time the kusarigama spun, the fire distorted, bending and cutting the air, but Dan anticipated the movements—his body read Dante, predicted Dante, cornered Dante.
—Impressive…— the king murmured between blows, dodging by a hair's breadth. —You fight as if hell were your home, boy.
Dante created dark, flaming wings whose beating threw everything back.
Dante tried to react in any way he could.
Dan answered with another attack—his fist sheathed in white fire and golden fragments, the impact cracking Dante's newly formed shadow-wings in two.
The roar that escaped the king was pure hatred.
He counterattacked—shadows emerging from the soil, trying to bind Dan.
But Stella descended from above, severing the bonds with a gleaming sword of liquid light.
—These tricks of yours won't work with me here!
Her blade exploded in flashes, a golden storm that reduced the shadows to ashes.
But she did not stop there—she extended her free hand, and seals of light formed in the air, connecting in concentric circles that pulled Dante back to the center.
He raised his arm, trying to disperse the energy—but screamed.
The light burned his skin, piercing through the shadows.
—Damn you…— he snarled.
Stella advanced through the brilliance, her body emanating two distinct energies—sacred light and spiritual light—that intertwined in waves.
She moved her sword in a spiral, and this time, ethereal chains of light emerged, wrapping around Dante's shoulders and ankles.
The king roared, pulling against them, but they reacted like living things, vibrating, holding, resisting.
Dan appeared before him.
The white fire concentrated in his fists, his gaze unbreakable.
—Now, Stella!
She crossed the chains—the crack echoed like a sacred thunderclap.
Dante was yanked forward, dragged by the radiance, his body distorting under the force of the light.
Dan leaped—the world seemed to stop.
His fist cut through the air, leaving an incandescent trail.
The blow struck Dante's face squarely.
The explosion sent golden sparks and white fire in all directions.
The impact split the earth, the air tore in a deafening echo.
Dante's body was hurled away, colliding with a rock formation that dissolved into dust.
But before the king could react, Stella pulled the chains again, the light converging around his body like a vortex.
Dan followed—the two in sync.
Dante tried to resist, but the light corroded his flesh, the fire burned the abyss.
He roared—the sound was bestial, primitive. The sound of his skull regenerating from the previous blow was audible.
His newly formed jaw cursed everything and everyone.
—Insolent…!— he bellowed, forcing the kusarigama to spin. —You think you can handle me like this?
He struck—the ethereal chain burst, sparks flying, but in the next instant, Stella reformed the chains into new lines of light, three times thicker, binding his arms.
Dan collided with him again.
The second punch hit Dante's abdomen—and the king's body partially split, pieces regenerating amidst the black smoke.
Dante staggered back, spitting dark blood.
The fire and light did not cease their shining.
For the first time, the king was being pressured.
He looked at the two—Dan with fire roaring around him, Stella with her body wreathed in chains of pure gold, with golden lines running along the veins of her body.
Both were transcending their levels together. They were twin tempests.
And for a moment… his gaze changed.
There was no more arrogance.
Only the silent recognition that these two mortals were truly wounding him.
The sound of flames and regenerating flesh echoed like a grotesque chorus.
Dante rose slowly, his skin stitching itself back together, muscles pulsing and bones snapping into place with muffled cracks.
His dark blood evaporated before it could touch the ground.
His body, now almost whole, trembled—not from weakness, but from pure euphoria.
He looked at Dan and Stella with a distorted smile.
—You are growing too fast…
The veins in his neck became lines of fire.
His skin cracked, revealing living symbols moving beneath.
And then, with a deafening rip, demonic, flaming wings emerged from his back—made of condensed fire and darkness.
The heat rose, deforming the air.
He flew, his body rising in spirals, a red and black streak scoring the sky.
From up there, he hovered over them, imposing—a king observing his challengers.
Dan looked up, his fists still incandescent, his gaze fixed.
—He's preparing for something else...
Dante laughed, flames spinning around his body.
—Perhaps I underestimated you.— he said, his tone almost amused. —It is rare for someone to force me to use my wings.
He did not retreat from fear.
It was pure calculation.
Pure observation.
The instinct of an ancient predator analyzing the growth of his prey.
Dan took a step forward, the fire roaring like a beast.
But before he could leap, Stella raised her hand.
—Wait…— she said, her golden eyes trembling with conviction. —I will bring him to us.
Dan looked at her.
The air around them shivered, her spiritual energy taking visible form, intertwining into circles of light.
She knew what was coming next.
She had seen it before, through the echoes of Jade—that same scene, Dante hovering in the sky with wings of fire and darkness, looking down on everyone as if he were a god.
But now, she was the successor.
And she would not bow.
—No more living in her shadow…— Stella murmured, closing her eyes. —Now it is my light.
Behind her, two golden wings unfolded, formed from pure condensed energy.
They were not like Dante's—there was no hatred, no pride.
They were beautiful, yet aggressive, with sharp edges and fierce movement.
The light grew until it swallowed the field, and Stella launched herself into the sky.
The flash was so intense the ground trembled.
Dante dodged instinctively—but she was too fast.
Her sword, now solid and alive, carried the shape of her will.
It was no common weapon—it was the manifestation of what Stella was:
decision, empathy, and rage in a single blade.
Stella's blade was an intense gold, but not a common gold—it seemed alive, as if pulsing with its own energy. The surface reflected light in a liquid manner, rippling subtly as if the sword were breathing. The edge was extremely fine and sharp, almost ethereal, yet solid enough to cut through rock and shadow with equal precision. Down its center ran a line of more intense light from hilt to tip, as if it were the very soul of the blade, concentrating all of Stella's determination. The guard was discreet, but emanated golden sparks when in motion, and the hilt was coated with a material that seemed fused with the sword's own energy, allowing Stella to wield it with perfect grace and strength.
When she spun or struck, sparks of golden light detached from the blade, forming ethereal trails that lingered in the air for moments, as if the sword held the memory of every movement. Every slash not only cut, but also radiated her will, making clear the independence and personality of the warrior behind the blade.
When the two collided in the sky, the impact was devastating.
Light and fire mingled, and the sound was like the roar of thunder trapped between clouds.
Dante tried to crush her with the chains of his kusarigama, but she dodged in a luminous spiral, cutting the air with precision.
Her blade scored his shoulder, and his black blood evaporated into smoke.
—Is that… all?— he mocked, spinning the scythe and creating a wave of demonic fire.
Stella charged through the attack, tearing the flames apart with her own light.
She screamed—a cry of pure force, the sound of overcoming.
And the light enveloping her grew even brighter.
For an instant, Dante did not see Stella, only a blinding golden silhouette.
The slash cut through the air, striking his chest.
The king's body arched, blood sprayed—and he fell several meters, his wings faltering.
On the ground, Dan watched it all, the fire around his body pulsing like a heart.
He felt it.
Something within him answered Stella's light.
It wasn't just power—it was attunement.
The same flame Tekio had left within them, now alive in both of them.
Stella descended in free fall, her hair streaming, her sword shining like a sun.
Dante intercepted her mid-descent—the shock opened a crater in the air.
The chains of light intertwined with the black chains of the kusarigama.
Fire, shadow, and light collided in a whirlwind.
The air screamed.
The ground shook.
And, for an instant, the King of Hell was being pushed down.
Dante sighed, his black eyes reflecting flames and shadows.
The kusarigama vanished in an explosion of black smoke, and in the same instant, a sword appeared in his hands—long, with a dark blade that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. It was not mere metal; it was the abyss itself materialized, an extension of his demonic essence and the void dwelling within him. The blade breathed, undulating like living shadow, and the air around it twisted with pure corruption.
Stella hovered above, the golden sword in her hand shining as if it had a consciousness of its own.
But it was not just light.
It was strength, it was will, it was concentrated rage—a sword that represented not only her power, but her entire identity.
She moved with precision, as if every step in the air were choreography.
Every slash created rends of light that cut through space, piercing the very fabric of the battlefield.
Dante looked at her, and for a moment, the echoes of Jade came to his mind.
The firm stance, the resolute gaze, the strength that defied any limit…
But Stella was not Jade.
She was more—faster, colder, more determined.
And, suddenly, he knew he would not underestimate the heir of light.
The swords collided, and the sound was like the universe being torn asunder.
Darkness and light met and created sparks that flew like meteors, burning the sky.
Each of Stella's blows forced Dante back just enough, but the abyss within him roared, trying to swallow the golden blade. Yet it resisted, balancing strength and agility, pressing the king with every attack.
Dante attacked with a rapid sequence, blows that spun in spirals of darkness, trying to crush her.
But Stella leaped, spun, and launched a second ability simultaneously: ethereal golden chains erupted from her sword, shaking Dante himself in the air, creating space for her to evade and dictate the battle's rhythm.
Dan watched it all with burning fists, his heart racing, feeling the flow of power growing between them.
It was the first time he had seen Stella fight like this—not just keeping pace with Dante, but making him retreat and react to her will.
Every attack of hers, every movement, made Dan feel the energy rising—as if Tekio's spirit were propelling them somehow, blending strength, rage, and strategy.
—Impressive…— Dante murmured to himself, dodging another strike. —Almost… like Jade.
A strange warmth rose in the king's chest; the memory of the past and Stella's presence created conflict.
Only Jade had ever challenged him like this in the air, made him feel the light piercing through the abyss itself.
Stella leaped again, the sword now fully formed in its true essence.
It was no longer just light; it was pure will.
A golden blade both solid and ethereal, capable of cutting through darkness and subduing even the most powerful demon.
A perfect parallel to what Dante wielded: a blade of shadows and abyss that seemed to swallow the world itself.
The contrast was clear—light against darkness, determination against chaos, Stella against Dante in pure symmetry.
They spun in the air, colliding repeatedly, each shock making the atmosphere vibrate.
Stella's chains coiled around Dante's black sword, shaking him and forcing him to react.
Dante blocked, attacked, retreated, and advanced—but Stella was beginning to shape the battle, guiding the attacks and forcing the king to realize she was not merely an apprentice or a simple obstacle.
Stella raised her sword, the golden ethereal threads spinning around Dante like chains of pure light, shaking him in the air.
Dan exploded upward, the white fire on his fists roaring, and prepared a devastating blow—the combo was about to begin.
Dante, perceiving the movement, narrowed his eyes.
The gleam of Stella's sword was reflected in his, and he saw, for the first time, that his adversary had become a living parallel to his own strength, capable of confronting him as an equal.
The air tore with the sound of steel and energy.
Stella advanced—a golden flash cutting the sky. Her sword clashed against Dante's, who now wielded a black, thick, living blade made of darkness and abyss, pulsating as if breathing. Every blow made the air tremble, every collision generated sparks of light and shadow.
She pressed him without hesitation, her golden wings beating with celestial force. Dante blocked, spun, counterattacked—his demonic wings snapping open with flaming cracks, spewing black flames.
They crossed the sky like two opposing comets—gold and darkness.
With every exchange, the sound was thunder; with every assault, the horizon distorted.
Dante then launched a wave of black, smoking flames toward Stella.
She evaded, but the flames pursued her through the air.
Stella began to propel herself, her body shining brighter and brighter along with her wings.
Until Stella guided the flames and made them explode into one another.
—You… are getting slow, king.— Stella murmured, her eyes burning with light.
Dante heard the words and frowned.
She propelled herself with a spin, leaving a spiral trail in the air. Dante raised his sword to block, but she dodged at the last instant—and a slash cut across from his shoulder to his abdomen, spraying blood and shadow in all directions.
The impact threw him downward.
Dante fell in free fall, his body regenerating grotesquely as he plummeted.
And on the ground, Dan was already running—shrouded in white fire and pure fury.
The earth trembled under his steps, the flames condensing in his fists.
As Dante neared the ground, Dan leaped—fire exploding under his feet—and the blow hit him from below, a collision that mixed light, heat, and destruction.
The impact shook the entire field, opening a luminous crater as the king was hurled against the horizon.
The ground split with a thunderclap as Dante landed—a flash cut across the field, dust and energy exploding in all directions.
Before the king could even begin to recompose himself, a shadow crossed the air.
Dan.
The punch came from below, ascending like a divine eruption.
The impact smashed Dante against the very ground, cracking it in waves. The pressure distorted the air, and the king's body bent with the blow.
Before he could react, Stella appeared behind him—golden wings spread, sword blazing like a sun in fury.
She descended with a diagonal slash, cutting through both the air and Dante's body.
But she did not stop.
The ethereal chains born from her light enveloped Dante, locking his movements.
Dan advanced again, the white fire enveloping his arms up to his shoulders, the ground cracking under his feet.
—Now!— Stella shouted, and she pulled the chains with all her strength.
Dante's body was hurled forward—straight into Dan's fist.
The impact was apocalyptic. The ground collapsed, the air split into screams and shards of pure energy.
The king's flesh shattered before it could regenerate. Every second, Dan struck him again, Stella following with slashes of light that exploded on contact.
It was a massacre.
Dante's regeneration tried to react, but it was too slow against their combined fury.
The white flames consumed the abyss, and the golden light burned the darkness at its core.
The blows were simultaneous, synchronized—as if Tekio were there, guiding them.
Dan struck with raw brutality; Stella, with divine precision.
Every punch, every cut, every flash—a sentence.
Dante tried to roar, but his voice was lost amidst the explosions.
His wings dissolved into ashes, and his body began to collapse, melting, reforming, melting again—as if his very existence were being shattered faster than it could rebuild itself.
Dan drove the final punch into the king's chest, and Stella plunged down with him, her sword piercing the regenerating heart.
The fusion of light and fire exploded—a flash that swallowed the entire field.
Silence.
And in the center, Dante, kneeling, his body trembling, half his face still reforming, looking at them—
with hatred.
And, for an instant, with something that looked like fear.
The dust still fell like ashes when the glare ceased.
The air vibrated—hot, heavy, dense.
Stella panted, her shoulders rising and falling in desperation, her sword still sparking with light alongside the marks that streamed energy like rivers across her body.
Stella was now the avatar of light, and her body transmitted that.
Dan remained standing beside her, his body covered in blood, his skin marked by burning fissures where the white fire still pulsed.
Before them, Dante knelt—or what remained of him.
His body was twisted, half his face melted, his flesh trying to recompose itself and failing.
His wings had vanished, reduced to ashes fluttering in the wind.
He lifted his gaze—his eyes, once infinite, now wavered between rage and disbelief.
The king, the abyss, the god of darkness… seemed small.
Dan took a step.
Then another.
Each step made the ground crack under his feet, each breath was like fire burning within.
Stella watched him, in silence, the golden light reflecting on the ashes.
She knew—there were no more words, no mercy, no truce.
Dan stopped before the kneeling king.
He raised his fist, covered in blood and flame, the energy trembling in the air as if the entire world were about to split.
He looked straight into Dante's eyes.
And with a voice hoarse, firm, laden with hatred and pain, he said:
—I told you I would kill you... you shitty king.
The fist rose, illuminating the field with white fire.
And then, the sound of the impact echoed like the roar of a falling god.
To be continued…
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