[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

Dante's thoughts settled.

Cerberus would not remain whole. It never did when pressed. The beast relied on an overwhelming presence, and when that failed, it fractured—three instincts tearing away from a single will.

("They'll split again,") Dante noted calmly.

His gaze turned, briefly, not toward the hound—but toward Echidna.

She stood some distance behind Cerberus, one pale hand pressed against her face once more, fingers digging in as though attempting to hold something back. Her coils were tense, her posture rigid and irritation bleeding into form.

("…Hmph.") He did not want to acknowledge it. But the truth was simple enough to admit, even if only to himself. ("Arielle helped. Marginally.")

Not because he required it. Not because the outcome depended on it. But the interference had bought him a fraction of time—no more than a breath, perhaps—but sometimes a breath was enough.

That was all.

The moment passed and Cerberus roared.

All three heads threw back in unison, their voices overlapping into a thunderous howl that tore across the plains. Fire erupted across the beast's massive form, crawling along its hide like veins. The runes etched along its body flared brilliantly, burning brighter and brighter until—

The hound burst apart.

Flames tore outward as its form split violently into three, shockwaves rippling through the earth beneath them. The fire Cerberus landed heavily to Dante's right, claws gouging trenches through stone. The lightning Cerberus vanished in a burst of black, reappearing further back as thunder rolled overhead.

And the ice Cerberus—

It did not hesitate.

A chilling howl split the air as it launched itself forward, frost pouring from its jaws, temperature plummeting in its wake. Its maw opened wide, fangs sharp as it went for Dante's throat.

Dante stepped in as he pivoted on his heel and lifted his leg in one smooth motion, his boot collided with the underside of the ice Cerberus's jaw mid-bite. The impact rang out loudly, the force reversed the beast's momentum. Ice shattered outward from its skull in a violent spray as its massive body was hurled sideways, spinning through the air, limbs flailing.

Before it could recover Dante's hand lashed out.

His fingers closed around its tail mid-rotation.

The ice Cerberus barely had time to snarl before Dante twisted his hips and threw. Its enormous body was ripped from the air and flung like a toy straight toward the fire Cerberus, which had just begun to rear back, flames coalescing in its throat.

They collided. The impact detonated in a violent explosion of fire and ice, steam screaming skyward as opposing elements annihilated each other on contact. The ground beneath them buckled as stone was thrown outward in every direction.

Dante was already moving.

A sharp crack split the sky.

The lightning Cerberus howled, its voice distorted by thunder as a bolt of black lightning tore down from the skies, aimed directly at Dante's position. He flipped back, cloak snapping behind him as the bolt slammed into the ground where he had stood an instant before. The explosion carved a massive crater, stone blasted skyward.

Another bolt followed.

Then another.

Dante continued his backward motion, each flip fluid. Each strike missed him by mere inches, the devastation compounding behind him as lightning scorched the plains further.

He landed.

Then ducked as the air screamed.

The lightning Cerberus appeared before him in a violent burst of black lightning, materializing mid-stride with its claws already swinging. It tore through the space where Dante's head had been.

It missed.

Dante rose into the opening.

His right arm came across in a short strike. The back of his gauntlet connected with the side of the Cerberus's skull. The sound was dull as it was sent flying, its body skipping across the ground before slamming into a broken ridge and collapsing in a tangle of sparking limbs.

Dante exhaled.

("Separated, they're weaker,") he concluded, watching the three forms struggle to regain footing. ("They can overwhelm with coordination—but individually, they fall apart.") His violet lenses narrowed as it scanned the plains, tracking each Cerberus simultaneously. ("They'll merge again.")

They had to.

Behind them, Echidna watched.

Her emerald eyes were narrowed now, not with disdain or mockery, but with something far closer to unease. Her coils shifted restlessly as she took in the scene before her.

He was handling Cerberus. Not struggling, not barely enduring. He was handling him, easily.

Her grip tightened unconsciously.

("That shouldn't be possible,") she thought, irritation bleeding into her. ("Even divided, Cerberus should still be overwhelming.")

The fire Cerberus pulled itself free of the steaming crater, flames bursting erratically along its hide. The ice Cerberus shook itself violently, frost forming across its fur. The lightning Cerberus rose more slowly, sparks crawling along its body as it snarled in frustration.

They circled Dante again.

This time, warier.

Dante stood at the center of their triangle, his left arm hanging at his side—still not fully restored, but no longer dead weight. He rolled his shoulder once, testing it.

Good enough.

"You're hesitating now it seems," Dante said calmly, his voice carrying easily across the distance. "Frightful that little Goddess might take over?"

Echidna stiffened.

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped. "I am merely reassessing."

"As you should," Dante replied. "Your Cerberus is proving inefficient."

She frowned. "Again you speak as though you've already won."

"That's not it," Dante said, eyes never leaving the hounds. "I speak as someone who has seen the outcome."

The lightning Cerberus snarled and lunged first, unwilling to wait any longer. Fire followed a heartbeat later, the ice Cerberus flanking wide, coordinating despite their division.

Dante moved, and in a burst of speed he vanished. One moment he was there—the next, the air where he had stood imploded inward as he reappeared before the fire Cerberus. It barely had time to register him before his fist slammed into its chest.

The blow compressed as fire was driven inward, force folding in on itself before erupting out the creature's back in a violent detonation. The fire Cerberus was hurled skyward, flames scattering in embers.

The ice Cerberus leapt as Dante pivoted, sidestepping the snapping jaws, and drove his elbow down into its neck. Ice shattered, the beast crashing to the ground in a spray of frost.

The lightning Cerberus struck from behind. Dante twisted, catching its forelimb mid-swing. Black lightning surged, crawling up his arm, seeking to tear into him.

He ignored it.

With a sharp twist of his torso, he wrenched the limb free and flung the Cerberus bodily into the air.

"Merge," Echidna hissed under her breath.

The command was unnecessary.

The three hounds howled together, their forms dissolving into fire once more as they converged midair. The elements clashed violently before stabilizing, reassembling into the massive, unified form of Cerberus.

It landed heavily, the impact sending cracks racing through the ground.

Dante straightened.

("There it is.")

Echidna's eyes burned as she watched Cerberus reform, her tension only building.

("If this continues…") Her thoughts trailed, uncomfortably unfinished.

Dante raised his right hand slowly, fingers flexing once.

"Good," he said quietly. "Stay that way. It shall make killing you all the more easier."

Cerberus roared, charging.

The ground trembled under its weight, each step cratered the earth as its massive body bore down on Dante. Its three heads roared in unison, a sound so violent it rattled the air. Dante stood still for half a heartbeat longer than instinct would allow.

("This is it.")

The thought settled calmly. Cerberus had committed fully—its power, its intent. There would be no feint or any clever redirection.

This was a charge meant to erase him.

Even so, behind Cerberus, Echidna felt something twist in her chest.

Her eyes narrowed with uncertainty that bordered on alarm. Divine power—she reached inward for it, instinctively—and found only silence and resistance. A dull ache where authority should have answered.

("…Not now.") Her fingers curled into her palms. ("If I intervene now… will it even respond?")

She didn't know. And that—not the destruction, not Dante's absurd strength—was what unsettled her most.

She watched him move, the sound came second. He vanished so completely that for an infinitesimal instant it looked as though he had simply ceased to exist. Then the ground where he had been standing detonated—it lagged, cracking a fraction of a second too late as the pressure of his departure finally caught up with reality.

Cerberus's charge continued forward—aimless now.

Dante reappeared above it.

The reentry was violent. Air screamed as it collapsed inward, a concussive implosion forming around him as he descended in a burst of force. He twisted his body midair, aligning his shoulders, spine, and fist into a perfect vector.

His punch came down.

The impact struck Cerberus square between its shoulders.

A deep, bone-rending crack echoed across the plains as Cerberus's back folded inward unnaturally, its massive frame buckling under the force. The ground beneath them collapsed and compressed violently into itself before erupting outward in a devastating radius.

Stone vaporized as a circular shockwave blasted out in every direction, flattening terrain, tearing ridges apart, and hurling debris skyward like shrapnel.

Echidna threw her arms up instinctively as the shockwave slammed into her, her hair snapping violently around her form. The force shoved her back several steps despite her resistance, tail carving lines into the ground as she braced.

"…What—" Her breath hitched.

Cerberus roared.

All three heads cried out at once, the sound distorted, more a reflex than a roar. Its legs collapsed beneath it as its body slammed into the earth, the shockwave continuing to roll outward long after the initial impact.

But Dante was not finished.

He landed on Cerberus's broken back.

Then Dante bent his knees.

The motion was small but Echidna's breath caught when she felt the pressure spike again. The air compressed around him, screaming in protest as though something sensed what was coming and failed to stop it.

He jumped.

The force of it tore upward through the plains like an explosion. Another shockwave followed, ripping loose stone from the ground and flinging it outward as Dante launched skyward, his ascent fast.

Cerberus's body was driven further into the earth by the recoil alone, its already-ruined back sinking deeper into the ground.

Dante soared.

Higher.

Higher still.

The plains shrank beneath him, devastation spreading widely. Wind roared past him, pressure clawing at his coat as he twisted midair, body aligning once more—not to land, but to strike again.

A circular white glyph formed above him.

It was simple.

Dante planted his feet against it as though it were solid ground, then he jumped again, this time downwards.

The glyph shattered behind him like glass, fragments dissolving into light as Dante became a meteor. The speed was instant, distance collapsing so violently that it looked as though he simply appeared above Cerberus once more.

Cerberus was trying to rise.

Its legs twitched, claws scraping uselessly against the ground as it struggled to push itself upright, fighting desperately to keep up with the damage.

It didn't get the chance, Dante's fist came down. This time, there was no restraint. The punch tore through Cerberus's back completely.

The force punched through flesh, bone and mass alike, detonating out the other side in a bloody eruption. Blood exploded outward in a spray, the beast's massive form tearing apart as the force ripped through it.

A long shockwave followed—drawn out, annihilating what little remained intact. The earth split open beneath Cerberus's collapsing body, fissures racing outward as the ruined form finally gave in, slumping into the crater it had been forced into.

The shockwave died down.

Silence followed.

Dante stood near the bloodied, ruined remains of Cerberus, his shoulders rising and falling slowly with his breath. Bits of earth slid down into the crater around him as the last traces of destruction faded.

He turned.

Echidna was staring at him.

Not sneering or amused.

Shock had stripped her expression bare.

Her arms were still raised slightly, as though her body hadn't yet realized the danger had passed. Her eyes were wide—not in fear, but in something far more dangerous to her pride.

Disbelief.

"…You," she said finally, her voice quieter than before. "You killed him..."

Dante met her gaze.

"Indeed," he replied.

She swallowed.

"That was Cerberus," she said, almost to herself. "The most powerful of guardians. Reinforced by my power. He had power enough for even the Gods to be weary."

"And it still bled," Dante said calmly, glancing back at the corpse. "Power doesn't make something invincible. It just makes most forget that they can be challenged."

Echidna's jaw tightened.

"You speak as though you understand that all to well," she said, edge creeping back into her tone. "As though you've stood where I stand."

"I've stood where Gods broke," he said. "And I kept moving forward."

Echidna lowered her arms slowly, she didn't immediately respond.

Her gaze turned once more to Cerberus's remains—the shattered spine, the grotesque aftermath of power so overwhelming that it hadn't merely killed him, but utterly ruined him.

"…If I could still call upon divine power," she admitted at last, frustration threaded through the words, "that would have been the moment."

"That's why I took it," Dante said simply.

She let out a short, humorless breath.

"Absurd," she muttered. "Completely absurd."

Dante turned fully toward her now. "You watched," he said. "You felt it. So tell me." Her eyes met his lenses again. "What are you going to do next?"

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