[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

The Nemean Lion did not hesitate.

It lunged, jaws opening wide as it surged toward Dante with a guttural roar, teeth like blades closing in on him from above and below. There was no feint to it—no hesitation, just the overwhelming intent to crush, tear, and end him.

Dante moved to meet it.

His hands shot forward before the bite could close. Gauntlets slammed against bone and sinew as his fingers locked onto the upper and lower sections of the Lion's massive jaws. Alloy screeched faintly as his grip tightened, filigree biting into his palms beneath the pressure.

The jaws stopped an inch from his helm.

The Nemean Lion snarled, muscles bunching, its breath hot and rank as it pushed forward with its full weight. Dante's boots dug into the shattered ground, heels carving grooves as he was driven back inch by inch.

Pain exploded through him.

The venom screamed louder now, much more intense like a living thing tearing through his nerves. His arms trembled despite his effort to keep them steady. Every heartbeat sent another spike of agony through his chest, his spine and his limbs.

Still, he held.

His stance was imperfect—slower than it should have been, less certain—but his grip did not falter. His shoulders locked. His back straightened by sheer force of will.

The Lion surged again, pressing harder.

Dante slid back another step.

Another.

His breath came heavier, fogging faintly against the inside of his helmet. Violet lenses stared unblinking into the beast's maw, unmoved even as his muscles threatened to tear themselves apart.

Echidna watched in silence.

No shout escaped him. No growl of effort. Not even a sharp breath. He endured the pain without sound, as if acknowledging it would give it power over him.

But it was all for naught, for Orthrus howled.

One of its heads threw itself back, its maw opening to the sky in a deafening cry that reverberated across the plains. The sound was as loud as it was commanding, as if calling the heavens themselves to answer.

The skies above darkened.

Not fully or unnaturally. Just enough for the air to feel heavier as a bolt of intense red lightning tore downward.

It struck Dante squarely.

The impact lit his form in a violent flash, red energy crawling across his form, his coat and his helm. It surged through him, tearing through nerves already aflame with venom. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably for a fraction of a second.

Pain—pure and consuming—ripped through him.

Still, he made no sound.

But his grip broke.

His hands tore away from the Nemean Lion's jaws as his body stiffened, fingers curling reflexively as the lightning coursed through him. The Lion did not waste the opening. Instead of biting, it lowered its head and slammed into him.

The collision was catastrophic as Dante's body was hurled through the air, the force of the blow shattering the ground where he had stood. Stone exploded outward as he flew, coat snapping violently behind him, silvery hair whipping free.

Before gravity could fully claim him—

Red lightning flared again.

Orthrus appeared behind him in a violent burst, both heads snarling as its massive form barreled forward, its body wreathed in crackling lightning. There was no space to react or any time to brace.

It collided with Dante's back.

The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent him spiraling downward, his body smashed toward the ground like a falling star. The earth erupted beneath him as he struck, debris and dust blasting outward in a violent wave.

For a moment, he did not move.

Then just as suddenly Dante shifted.

Slowly—painfully—he rolled his shoulder and forced himself to move with the momentum instead of against it. As Orthrus loomed above him, already preparing to follow through, Dante twisted his hips and legs with what little strength he could muster.

His kick was sluggish and imperfect.

But it was timed well enough.

His boot connected with Orthrus's lower jaw, the impact snapping the beast's head sideways. The force carried through, sending Orthrus tumbling away, its massive body crashing down hard as it skidded across the broken ground in a shower of stone.

Dante landed harshly.

His knees hit first. Then one hand. His breath came out in a slow, strained exhale as he fought to keep himself upright. The venom burned hotter now, his vision dimming at the edges despite the steady glow of his lenses.

Before he could rise—

The Nemean Lion was already there.

It lunged again, jaws snapping shut inches from his face. Dante reacted on reflex alone, arms shooting up to catch its mouth once more. This time, his position betrayed him.

The Lion's weight forced him down.

His back hit the ground hard, the impact jarring what little breath he had managed to reclaim. The beast bore down on him, snarling, saliva dripping as it pushed its jaws closer, inch by agonizing inch.

Dante's arms shook violently.

His gauntlets groaned under the strain. His elbows bent despite his effort to keep them locked. Pain flared white-hot through his shoulders and chest, the venom roaring in triumph.

Still, he did not cry out.

Instead, he shifted slowly but carefully. His legs came up, boots planting against the Lion's chest and shoulder. He adjusted his grip—not loosening, but angling—using the beast's own forward momentum against it.

With an exhale, Dante twisted his hips and kicked.

The movement was not explosive or elegant but the Lion's balance broke. Its massive body was lifted just enough for Dante to roll, using his legs to redirect its weight and toss it aside. The beast crashed into the ground nearby, snarling as it skidded away.

Dante lay there for a moment longer than before.

His chest rose and fell heavily. His fingers trembled as he pulled one arm in close, then the other. Slowly—agonizingly—he drew one knee beneath him.

Echidna watched him rise.

He pushed himself up inch by inch, movements heavy, as if every part of him resisted the act. His coat hung slightly torn and dusted with debris. His helmet tilted downward briefly before he straightened again. Dante steadied himself again with a slow breath that scraped through his lungs like broken glass. His shoulders rolled once, then again, the motion stiff and uneven as pain flared in protest. The venom answered immediately, tightening around his nerves as if offended that he dared move without permission.

He ignored it.

The plains had shifted, he could feel it in the way the air sat heavier against his skin, in how the monsters had repositioned without a word spoken. The Nemean Lion no longer prowled independently—it lingered closer to Orthrus now, their movements unconsciously overlapping. The two-headed hound paced in a shallow circle, lightning crawling along its spine, both heads tracking Dante with snarling intensity.

And the Hydra—

Still.

That absence gnawed at him far more than the pain ever could.

("It hasn't attacked again,") Dante noted, the thought steady despite everything screaming inside him. Not once since Orthrus re-engaged. His gaze turned briefly—not enough to give it away—toward the massive, coiled shape in the distance. Nine necks swayed lazily, each head lifted just enough to watch. ("You're holding it back,") he realized. Not the Hydra itself—but Echidna.

His violet lenses shifted, focusing on her where she was beyond the beasts. She hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. But there was calculation in her watchfulness sharpened by suspicion.

And Cerberus…

He didn't need to see the three-headed hound to know it was there. He could feel it—like a weight pressed against him.

("You think I'm hiding something,") Dante thought. ("You're right.")

The ground shuddered.

Orthrus roared.

Both heads reared back in unison, jaws opening wide as crackling red lightning surged between their fangs. The charge built instantly and violently, tearing up the earth beneath its paws as arcs of energy lashed outward without restraint.

Dante moved.

Not away but forward.

He broke into a sprint, boots slamming against fractured earth, each step sending fresh pain lancing up his legs. Orthrus unleashed the attack. Twin bolts of lightning tore free from its mouths, ripping through the ground in uneven lines, the air screaming as they converged on him. The impact was immediate and overwhelming.

Red light swallowed him whole.

For a split second—no longer than a heartbeat—his body was reduced to a silhouette. Bone outlined in searing light, every nerve illuminated as the lightning tore through him. The venom shrieked in savage delight, pain cresting so high it blurred into something almost distant.

Dante did not scream.

He didn't even slow.

The lightning burned itself out against him as he burst through the attack, coat smoking, form scorched black in places. His muscles spasmed once, violently, but his stride never broke. His head stayed down, his focus razor-thin.

Orthrus recoiled, surprise flashing through both snarling faces.

But it was much too late.

Dante closed the distance in a heartbeat. He dipped low, pivoting sharply beneath the massive body as it tried to adjust, one hand skimming the ground for balance as he turned. His leg coiled, all the force of his momentum compressing into a single motion.

He kicked.

The impact detonated upward into Orthrus's underbelly with a concussive crack. The force launched it. The massive hound howled as its body was torn from the ground, lightning scattering wildly as it was hurled skyward, limbs flailing uselessly.

Dante didn't watch it fall.

He was already moving.

The Nemean Lion came down like a collapsing wall, a massive paw slamming into the ground where Dante had been a moment earlier. Stone exploded outward as claws carved deep furrows into the earth.

Dante leapt back just enough to avoid the strike, boots skidding as he landed. He stepped in immediately, closing the gap before the Lion could recover, and drove his fist into its face.

The blow snapped its head sideways with a crack of bone and sinew. The Lion staggered, snarling in fury rather than pain, shaking its head as it dug in its claws.

It answered with violence.

A sweeping slash tore through the space Dante occupied an instant before. He twisted out of the way, feeling the claws pass close enough to stir the air against his body. The Lion followed through without pause, shifting its weight and throwing its entire body forward in a full-force tackle.

Dante braced.

He planted one leg hard into the ground, the impact jarring his spine as it collided with him. Both of his arms lashed out, catching the Lion mid-charge. His fingers dug deep into its hide, sinking past fur and into muscle as he fought the momentum.

The force drove him back a step.

Then another.

His boots carved trenches as his body screamed in protest. The venom flared viciously, his vision dimming at the edges—but Dante held fast. He leaned into the weight, muscles locking as he twisted his hips.

With a strained exhale, he lifted.

The movement was ugly. But it worked.

The Nemean Lion's massive body left the ground as Dante heaved, using leverage rather than strength alone. He arched backward and slammed the beast down in a brutal suplex that shattered the stone beneath them both. The ground caved with a thunderous crack as the Lion hit back-first, the impact sending debris flying.

Dante didn't stop there.

He shifted his weight immediately, releasing one arm to shove, twisting with everything he had left. The Lion's body rolled, skidding across the plains before crashing to a halt in a cloud of dust and broken stone.

Silence followed.

Dante straightened slowly, chest heaving as he turned.

The Hydra was already moving.

All nine heads rose higher now, necks spreading wide like a crown. Its mouths opened in unison, each one exhaling something different—corrosive mist, crackling energy, viscous poison, heat that warped the air. The sound of it filled the plains, a layered hiss that crawled under the skin.

Dante felt it then.

The opening.

("There you are,") he thought, a grim edge cutting through the pain. ("That's what you were waiting for.")

His left arm tightened reflexively at his side. He could feel the weight there, something forming.

Echidna's gaze sharpened.

She shifted her stance for the first time.

Dante took a single step forward, then another, eyes locked on the Hydra as its heads drew back to strike. His left hand flexed slowly, fingers curling as if around something invisible.

Under his breath—so low it barely carried—he spoke.

"Technique Development," he murmured, voice rough but steady.

His arm tensed.

"Partial Ascendance."

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