[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

The world seemed to lurch around him as he moved first—not forward, but away, instinct dragging him back as the air screamed.

Red lightning tore open the space in front of Dante.

Orthrus manifested mid-snarl, its two heads snapping down in a mirrored action. Jaws wide. Heat and static rolled off its fur. There was no warning beyond the crack of thunder and the sudden, suffocating presence of killing intent.

Dante reacted instantly. He twisted into a backward flip, boots scraping sparks from the broken ground as one set of fangs closed where his throat had been a heartbeat earlier. The second head followed.

But he drove his heel forward.

Bone gave way with a wet snap. One of Orthrus's jaws caved inward at an impossible angle, teeth shattering, flesh tearing as the force sent the massive hound spiraling sideways. It crashed through broken stone in a shower of debris, howling—one growl broken, the other roaring in fury.

Dante didn't watch it fall.

Because the ground exploded.

The Nemean Lion came through the smoke like an avalanche, its golden mane blazing. The charge did not seem reckless—it seemed more perfectly timed, its massive paws pulverizing the earth with each step.

Above the shadow of wings fell over him.

The Colchian Dragon descended, scales gleaming emerald as it reared back midair. Its eyes burned, its chest swelling. Dante felt it a fraction of a second before it happened.

The intense heat.

A colossal wave of flame roared down, swallowing the area in searing heat. Stone melted as the air distorted. The world became white-hot. Dante crossed his arms and braced, the flames did not burn him. But the force hit like a mountain.

He skidded backward, boots carving trenches through shattered stone as the firestorm shoved him across the plains. His coat snapped violently behind him, the impact rattling through flesh and bone alike. Still, he remained standing, one knee dragging before he forced himself upright.

But it was too late.

The lion burst through the fire.

Its form was as massive as it was unstoppable—Dante turned just in time to see it, and the collision was catastrophic.

The Nemean Lion struck him head-on.

He was hurled skyward, body folding as the force sent him spinning through smoke and fire, higher and higher, the ground shrinking beneath him. His vision blurred for a moment—just a moment—

Then shadow swallowed everything. One of the Hydra's heads came down like a hammer. It slammed him from the air with titanic force.

A crater bloomed outward as Dante's body was driven into the ground, shockwaves rippling across the plains. Stone ruptured as dust roared skyward. The sound rolled on and on, echoing intensely, refusing to die.

From within the crater, Dante shifted.

There was no intense pain that lanced through him—more a deep and grinding sensation. Something inside him protested as he pushed himself up.

Across the plains Echidna watched.

Her expression remained composed. ("It will only be a matter of time,") she noted silently. ("Even he cannot endure this forever.") Her gaze lingered on the Hydra—on its writhing necks, its many maws. ("If it releases its poison… then this battle is already decided.")

Dante steadied himself.

("I need space,") he noted. ("If I let them compress around me again, I lose the initiative.") A brief pause lingered as his eyes tracked movement. ("The Hydra first. Temporarily.")

The decision finished forming and the world around him broke.

A violent, concussive boom ripped outward as Dante vanished, the ground beneath him collapsing into pulverized stone. The plains were further torn apart, a straight scar gouged through the earth by sheer acceleration. No one saw him move. There was only the afterimage of destruction, the delayed scream of displaced air.

He reappeared behind the Hydra in a burst of force.

Close, much too close.

One gauntleted hand slammed shut on the creature's colossal, scale-armored tail. Fingers digging into it.

The Hydra shrieked—every large head reacting at once, necks twisting violently as its body lurched. The sheer mass of it should have anchored it in place, should have made resistance impossible.

Dante pulled anyway, dragging it.

The ground screamed as the Hydra's massive body was wrenched sideways, trenches ripping open beneath its weight. Its many heads thrashed wildly, hissing and snapping at nothing, as Dante twisted his stance and heaved.

The motion was brutally simple and yet the result was not.

With a thunderous rupture of stone and air, Dante threw the Hydra skyward. Its massive form tore free of the earth entirely, rising in a spiraling arc, shadows swallowing its writhing body as it ascended far higher than logic should allow, blotting out the clouds as a result. Debris followed it like rain, the plains beneath left mangled and hollowed by the force alone.

Echidna's composure cracked.

Her eyes widened, breath catching as she stared upward, momentarily forgetting herself.

"Huh?"

She barely had time to process it. Because the Nemean Lion was already charging again. It came with reckless fury, muscles coiling and releasing with explosive speed, the ground shattering beneath its paws. Dante turned toward it calmly.

And raised a single hand.

The collision was deafening.

A shockwave detonated outward as the Lion slammed into his palm, force screaming through the air like a cannon blast. Dust and stone erupted in a wide ring yet this time Dante did not move. The Lion snarled, claws digging uselessly into the ground as it pushed, strength pouring into the charge. Dante's arm remained steady.

"Enough," he muttered.

His fingers closed around the Lion's lower jaw.

With a sharp twist and a brutal pivot of his hips, he threw it aside—effortlessly—hurling the massive beast directly into the path of a charging Orthrus. The hounds heads barely had time to snarl before they collided, bodies crashing together and tumbling violently across the plains, both sent sprawling in a mess of snarls and shattered ground.

Above the Hydra began to descend.

The many heads screamed in discordant fury, necks flailing uselessly as the shadows stretched beneath it, as gravity reclaimed its massive form.

Dante glanced once as he jumped.

The ground exploded beneath him as he launched upward, stone collapsing inward as his body tore into the sky. His trajectory angled sharply—not toward the Hydra—

—but higher.

The Colchian Dragon noticed him a heartbeat too late. Its eyes widened, wings flaring instinctively as it twisted midair, flame building in its throat.

Dante was already there.

He slammed down onto its back with crushing force, boots biting into scales as the dragon screamed in pain. He didn't hesitate, nor did he adjust; both hands seized its wings and ripped.

The sound was wet and awful—bone tearing free, membranes shredding as the wings were torn from the dragon's body entirely. Blood sprayed, the dragon's scream breaking out desperately. Dante rose as one hand found its neck. A single, decisive motion and the head came free. The body fell away, lifeless, tumbling toward the ruined plains below.

So did Dante.

He descended through drifting debris and falling blood, coat fluttering, body relaxed despite the height. The fall did not finish for him, mid-descent, Dante's body shifted. His leg snapped outward in a sharp kick against empty air.

The sky seemed to answer.

A concussive blast tore outward as though he had struck something solid, the pressure folding space around his foot. The force reversed his momentum instantly, hurling him upward, faster than his fall had been—faster than the Hydra, which was still plunging, heads twisting and hissing as gravity dragged it back toward the plains.

Dante rose past it.

He adjusted again, twisting his torso, drawing one knee up as if bracing against an invisible wall. A circular glyph bloomed behind him—white and pristine. Its light pulsed slightly, lines interlocking elegantly. Dante planted his foot against the glyph and kicked off it.

The glyph shattered into light as the force detonated. He became a streak, an intense eruption of force aimed directly at the descending Hydra. There was no hesitation or flourish, only his intent.

His leg connected with the Hydra's central mass and the impact was catastrophic. A sound like the world breaking rang out as the Hydra was ripped from its descent and driven downward with impossible speed. Its bodies folded inward, necks snapping violently as it was launched toward the ground.

It struck the plains as though it were a falling mountain.

The shockwave rolled outward in a vast, crushing ring, flattening what little terrain remained intact. Stone disintegrated and dust surged skyward in a roaring wall. The earth split and heaved beneath the impact, a crater blooming outward as the Hydra writhed within it, hissing in agony, multiple heads slamming against broken stone as poison hissed uselessly into the air.

In the distance, the Nemean Lion and Orthrus reacted instantly.

They threw themselves in front of Echidna, massive bodies braced as the wave of force slammed into them. The ground tore beneath their paws, dust and debris washing over their forms as they dug in, snarling through the pressure.

Echidna staggered back.

Her eyes were wide now—no amusement or indulgent curiosity within them.

"…That can not be possible," she breathed. Her gaze turned between the ruin left by the Hydra and the empty sky above it. "A human cannot produce that kind of force. No mere human can." She clenched her fists. "It doesn't make sense."

Then she looked up.

Dante descended slowly, boots touching down with gentleness. The ground cracked beneath him, but he didn't sink or stumble. He straightened calmly, coat settling around him as the Hydra writhed behind his back, its many heads recoiling, wounded and furious.

Echidna stared.

"This isn't mere power," she said, voice lower. " But you... you're so very wrong." She chuckled.

Dante said nothing.

Orthrus snarled, heads turning toward him again, and the Nemean Lion stepped forward, muscles tensing.

Echidna raised a hand.

"Go," she commanded, eyes never leaving Dante. "Keep him busy."

The monsters obeyed instantly, shifting their weight, preparing to charge again.

Echidna's lips curled.

"If brute force won't break you," she murmured, already weaving mana before her, "then perhaps a true monster will." Her power surged. "I'll make their brother next," she said softly. "Cerberus."

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