The cathedral doors slammed shut behind Dante, the echo of the impact ringing through the empty streets outside like a final verdict he refused to accept. His footsteps were heavy and uneven as he walked without direction, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his thoughts tangled in anger and disbelief. The world around him blurred as he pushed past people and turned sharply into a narrow alleyway, far from the eyes of the crowd that had just witnessed his humiliation. The stone walls closed in around him, the air colder, quieter—perfect for the storm building inside his chest. He stopped abruptly, his fists trembling, and before he could think, he drove his knuckles into the wall. The impact sent pain shooting through his hand, but he welcomed it. Again he punched, and again, each strike fueled not by strength but by frustration. "Why… why wasn't it me?" he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking slightly. His teeth clenched as he struck the wall once more, harder this time, until his hand throbbed and his breathing grew ragged.
The alley fell silent except for his uneven breaths—until something shifted.
At first, it was subtle, like a whisper brushing against the edges of his senses. Then the shadows themselves began to stir. A thin veil of black mist rose slowly from the ground, curling and twisting unnaturally as if it were alive. Dante froze, his instincts kicking in as he quickly grabbed a rusted metal pipe leaning against the wall, raising it defensively. His eyes narrowed as the mist thickened, forming a vague shape before him. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice firm despite the tension creeping into it.
From within the darkness, two glowing red eyes opened, piercing through the dim alley like embers in the night. The mist seemed to breathe, expanding slightly before a voice emerged—low, smooth, and unsettlingly calm. "Dante… do not fear me. I am your friend."
Dante tightened his grip on the pipe. "I don't need friends like you," he snapped, though he didn't lower his guard. "Whatever you are, stay back."
The mist pulsed softly, almost amused. "If the people did not see you as the truly chosen one… then allow me to grant you power far beyond theirs. Take my hand, and I will give you strength that surpasses even the Three Heroes."
Dante's jaw clenched as he shook his head sharply. "I said I don't need your power," he replied, his voice strained but resolute. "I have my friends. I'll support them… even if I'm not one of them."
"Friends…" the mist echoed, the word lingering like a poison. "You call them friends? Did they speak for you when the priest chose the Flame Warrior? Did they step forward and demand justice for you? No… they stood there. Watching."
Dante's breath hitched slightly, but he forced himself to shake his head again. "No… no, that's not true. We trained together. We fought together. We worked as one." His voice wavered, though he tried to steady it. "They're my friends."
"Are they?" the mist whispered, its form inching closer, tendrils brushing the ground like searching fingers. "Because all I see… is a bond built on convenience. They moved forward without you. They accepted the choice… without hesitation."
"That's not true!" Dante snapped, though the conviction in his voice had begun to crack. His grip on the pipe tightened further, his knuckles whitening. "You're lying."
The mist's red eyes gleamed brighter. "Then answer me this… why do I feel such anger within you? Such resentment… such pain. These are not the feelings of someone content to stand aside."
Dante's eyes widened slightly. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. The truth, buried deep within him, clawed its way to the surface. The anger, the jealousy—it was there, undeniable.
The mist moved closer, wrapping gently around his legs, its presence cold and suffocating. "Join me, Dante," it murmured. "Together, we can create a world of balance. A world where the false bonds are broken. Where those who pretend to be friends are revealed… and removed."
Dante's breathing grew uneven as the darkness crept upward, wrapping around his arms, his chest, pulling him into its cold embrace. His eyes trembled, his resolve faltering. Slowly, almost unconsciously, his hand began to lift toward the mist.
Then—
"Dante!"
A voice, clear and distant, cut through the darkness.
His body froze.
The mist stilled, its red eyes narrowing slightly. "It seems… your time to choose has not yet come," it whispered. "Think carefully, Dante. I will be waiting… for your final decision."
And just as quickly as it had appeared, the mist vanished, dissolving into nothingness, leaving Dante alone in the alley. His hand dropped slowly to his side, his breathing heavy, his thoughts in chaos. He stared at the empty space where it had been, his heart pounding—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.
Doubt.
The next morning, sunlight poured into the training grounds of Hydro's mansion, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. Flame stood at the center, gripping his greatsword, sweat already forming along his brow as he practiced his swings. His movements were still imperfect, but there was a noticeable improvement—a sharper edge, a growing confidence.
Hydro and Earth stood nearby, watching quietly. After days of tension and distance, something had shifted between them. Earth exhaled softly and said that Flame was improving faster than he had expected, his voice carrying a tone that was no longer dismissive but thoughtful. Hydro nodded slightly, adding that Flame's growth wasn't just physical—it was his mindset. He didn't stop, no matter how many times he failed.
Flame paused, catching his breath, before glancing toward them. There was hesitation in his expression, but also curiosity. Hydro stepped forward slightly, his tone calm as he suggested they train together. Earth followed, shrugging casually as he added that if Flame was going to fight alongside them, he needed to keep up.
Flame blinked in surprise, then nodded quickly, determination returning to his eyes. "Yeah… I won't fall behind," he said, gripping his sword tighter.
Their training that day was different. It wasn't just instruction—it was interaction. Hydro guided Flame through defensive techniques, demonstrating how to control his stance, while Earth pushed him physically, testing his endurance and reflexes. Flame struggled at times, but he didn't give up. Each fall was followed by another attempt, each mistake corrected through effort rather than frustration.
After hours of training, Hydro suggested showing Flame the rest of the mansion. Flame agreed, though the moment they stepped inside, his awe returned instantly. The grand halls, the flowing water channels, the intricate designs—it was overwhelming. As they walked, Flame's gaze wandered constantly, absorbing everything.
When they reached the staircase, Flame stopped again, staring at the portraits lining the walls. His eyes locked onto the image of the Aqua Warrior Flow, then shifted to the other two figures beside him. "These are… the original heroes?" he asked quietly.
Hydro nodded, explaining that they were the ones who had sealed the great threat long ago. Earth added that their story wasn't just legend—it was history, though parts of it had been lost over time.
As they continued walking, they turned a corner—and froze.
Dante stood at the end of the hallway.
For a moment, no one spoke. Hydro took a step forward, his expression softening slightly as he called out Dante's name, asking if he was okay. Earth followed, his tone more direct, saying they had been
looking for him.
Dante didn't respond.
He simply walked past them.
As he passed, Flame felt a chill run down his spine. Dante's eyes… they were different. Darker. Colder. There was something behind them that hadn't been there before.
Hydro turned slightly, about to follow, but Earth placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head subtly. Hydro hesitated, then nodded slowly, understanding that whatever Dante was going through, chasing him now might only make it worse.
They continued on, eventually reaching the mansion's library.
Flame's breath caught.
The room was enormous, filled with towering shelves packed with countless books, scrolls, and ancient texts. Light filtered through tall windows, illuminating the space in a warm glow. Flame stepped inside slowly, his voice barely above a whisper as he said he had never seen so many books in his life.
Hydro smiled faintly and explained that this was where much of the knowledge about the past heroes was kept. Earth pulled out an old book and began flipping through its worn pages, eventually stopping at a section that caught his attention.
As they gathered around, Hydro began to speak, recounting the story.
He explained that long ago, the world had been consumed by darkness, a monster so powerful it could destroy entire countries with a single blow. People had lost hope, believing there was no way to fight back—until three teenagers, no different from them, stumbled upon a hidden cave. Inside, they found three glowing stones—brown, red, and blue. When they touched them, something awakened within their bodies. The brown gave them the power of Earth, the red granted them Fire, and the blue bestowed Water. With these powers, they rose to challenge the darkness.
Earth continued, saying that the three fought countless battles, growing stronger with each encounter, until they finally faced the source of the destruction. But as he turned the page, he stopped.
The next section had been torn out.
Flame frowned slightly, asking what happened next.
Hydro closed the book slowly, his expression thoughtful as he said that the rest of the story had been lost… or perhaps hidden. All that remained was the name of the enemy they faced.
Cegataurus.
The word lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.
Before anyone could speak further, a knock echoed through the library doors. A guard entered, bowing respectfully as he delivered urgent news—monsters had been sighted heading toward a nearby village called Elistain.
The three exchanged glances this was it
their first mission.
Later that day, they stood at the gates of the mansion, their belongings prepared. Hydro's parents stood nearby, their expressions a mixture of pride and concern as they gave their farewells. Earth nodded respectfully, while Flame bowed slightly, still adjusting to everything happening around him.
As they boarded the carriage, the people gathered outside began to wave, offering words of encouragement and hope. The carriage began to move, the wheels rolling steadily along the road leading away from the capital.
Hydro glanced out the window—and for a brief moment, he saw a familiar figure standing in the distance.
Dante
Hydro blinked
The figure was gone
Earth noticed his expression and quietly asked if he was okay. Hydro hesitated for a moment, then nodded, though something in his chest didn't feel right.
As the carriage moved forward, carrying the Three Heroes toward their first battle, the shadow of Dante lingered behind them—unseen, unresolved, and slowly growing darker.