[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

Cerberus was dead.

That truth lingered, it was something that refused to settle. The revelation pressed against Echidna's thoughts more heavily than any wound. Her mana reserves were drained to the point of hollowness. Worse still, the Goddess Arielle resisted within her—an obstinate presence, weak yet so unyielding—making the use of divine power impossible. Every attempt to reach for it was met with rejection, something that gnawed at her composure.

The plain fact of the matter was unavoidable.

She had lost.

There was no reframing it, no twisting the outcome into something less humiliating. For all her age, for all the wars she had witnessed and survived through others, she was no warrior herself. She had always been something adjacent to battle, something that birthed it rather than faced it. Without her children—without the monsters she had shaped, nurtured and sent forth—how could anyone expect her to stand before such an absolute force?

This was not merely a man who slew legendary beasts.

This was one who still stood upright despite grievous injury, blood drying along ruined attire, his presence undiminished. A being who had torn through powerful monsters and emerged triumphant.

Echidna still towered over Dante, her massive serpentine lower body coiled beneath her, her upper form rising high. Yet despite the physical dominance of her stature, there was no confidence left in her face. No smugness or any triumph.

But there was no fear either.

Only a tense feeling—as if something inside her was holding its breath.

"Shall you not answer me, Mother of Monsters?" Dante asked.

He stood only a few paces away now, close enough that his proximity alone caused her serpentine body to shift, coils tightening reflexively, a vestigial response she did not consciously command. The way he spoke was so devoid of cruelty, but there was no uncertainty in it either.

"I asked what you would do," he continued, voice steady. "All your children, I have slaughtered. You've not the mana to birth any more. And you can no longer call upon divine power. Even if you could"—his head tilted slightly, lenses piercing—"the outcome would not change."

Echidna's lips pressed together, irritation creeping into her expression despite herself. A muscle in her jaw tightened. "I am not done yet," she said at last, the words clipped, defiant more in tone than anything else.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, betraying her. She could not deny the unease settling in her stomach now. This was a human. A blessed human, perhaps—but still a human. Even so, as she peered down at him, it felt as though she were staring at something else entirely. Something that wore humanity rather than belonged to it.

"You no doubt cling to your creeping mendacity," Dante murmured, almost thoughtfully. "But you should know this is no longer a battle of convictions." He lifted his gaze fully to meet hers. "The course of your journey was decided the moment I faced you."

Echidna's brows furrowed sharply. "My journey was long since decided?" she snapped, venom lacing her words. "What rabble." A thin but potent emerald aura began to outline her form—mana reinforcing her body even as her reserves screamed in protest. "You have no power over me, human. My journey is not yet finished!"

Her tail uncoiled in an instant.

She surged forward with shocking speed, her massive form defying its own scale. The ground cracked beneath her as she lunged, pale right arm thrusting outward, fingers splayed.

And then Dante vanished. There was no thunderous burst of speed this time. No shockwave or any audible displacement. He was simply gone.

For a fraction of a second, it looked as though he had teleported.

Echidna's eyes widened.

She did not even have time to react.

Her right arm separated from her body in a violent spray of blood.

"Gah—!"

The pain hit a heartbeat later, searing. Blood fountained from the twisted stump as the severed limb hit the ground nearby with a wet thud. Echidna snarled through clenched teeth, her remaining hand snapping up to clutch the wound as she spun around wildly.

Dante stood behind her.

His gauntlet was lightly bloodied.

"You—" Her voice cracked, fury and shock bleeding together.

"Struggle, fight or curse," Dante said quietly. "Pick one. Or all. It does not matter." He stepped closer. "Some beings are slaves to fate. Their paths are preordained. But even without the interference of the fickle, your defeat was as certain as the sunrise."

Echidna glared ahead, vision blurring at the edges as blood loss set in. She wanted to heal—wanted desperately to—but she could feel him already moving again.

There was no mercy left.

His body vanished once more, faster than she could perceive. She couldn't track him, couldn't even sense the displacement. He reappeared before her, suspended in the air at an angle that placed him directly in front of her massive upper body.

Her eyes widened too late.

Dante's right hand speared forward.

It punched through her chest with strong force, shattering bone and tearing flesh, his fingers closing around her heart. The pain was indescribable, a white-hot rupture that robbed her of breath as blood sprayed from her lips.

He pulled.

The heart came free in a thick spray.

Echidna screamed, a broken sound as her body convulsed, Dante cast the large, still-beating heart aside without ceremony.

He was not finished.

His right arm lashed downward.

The punch landed against her skull with a splitting sound. His hand sank in, crushing through bone as blood erupted from her eyes, nose and ears. Her body was driven downward violently, her massive form slamming into the ground hard enough to kick up a choking cloud of dust.

"Blegh—!" She spat blood onto the broken earth, her tail going slack, her upper body trembling as it failed to rise.

("Damn it…") she thought, teeth grinding. ("This… this is not how things were supposed to go…")

Something cold settled in her chest.

Fear.

Dante landed before her almost gently, boots touching down with little force.

"Do you understand now, Mother of Monsters?" he asked.

Slowly and shakily, Echidna lifted her gaze.

He stood there—bloodied, left arm mangled, posture unwavering. His face remained hidden behind the horned helmet, violet lenses staring down at her without warmth. Silvery-white hair whipped in the wind behind him.

The fear spread.

"Your convictions were meaningless until the very end," Dante continued. "What are convictions in the face of something beyond an insurmountable wall? That is the conclusion to our battle of convictions. I did not need mine to match yours. I merely needed to break yours. Such is the nature of my strength."

"You…" Echidna gasped. "What… what are you?!" Her voice rose into a desperate shout. "You can't be a human!"

"I am a human," Dante replied calmly. "I already said as much. I also recall saying you should think of me as something else—that defeat might be easier to swallow." He angled his arm slowly. "But make no mistake. The one who faced your children was human. The one who slaughtered them was human. And the one who laid you low is human. This is your folly, Monster. Facing me."

Echidna stared at him, eyes wide.

She did not want to believe it.

That this was her death.

At the hands of a human.

No—at the hands of something worse. Someone who bathed in the blood of her children. Someone who withstood divine power. Someone who would kill her even knowing another would die with her.

("No… no, no, no…") she chanted internally. ("I can't… I still have to return home… to see them… I can't—")

But denial offered no refuge.

Death pressed in around her, an inevitability she could neither flee nor bargain with. This man would kill her even knowing that someone bound to him would perish alongside her. Echidna had felt Arielle's emotions clawing within her, so very pure and overwhelming. Even in her diminished state, the Goddess fought back with everything she had.

Affection so fierce it bordered on agony.

And yet Dante did not falter.

There was no hesitation in his stance, no tremor in that intent. No trace of doubt in the way his presence bore down on her. In that moment, Echidna understood fully—there would be no reprieve, no last-minute mercy.

Her fate was sealed.

And then just as suddenly everything stopped. Dante's strike halted mid-motion, his lenses narrowing.

"!?"

Echidna's eyes widened as a sharp, unnatural sensation tore through her. A thin, glowing emerald crack split across her face, spreading outward like cracking glass.

"W-what—!?"

More fissures bloomed across her body, racing along her flesh, splintering her form from within. Pain twisted her features as the integrity of her existence began to fail.

("Her form is unraveling.") Dante noted silently, his gaze turning outward, searching. ("Arielle shouldn't have the strength for this. Not in her current state. And Echidna hasn't exhausted herself enough for collapse.")

That left only one conclusion.

A third party.

Someone was interfering.

Yet Dante sensed nothing—no presence or any distortion he could grasp. Whoever was responsible existed beyond his immediate perception. If they intended to reveal themselves, it would only be through action.

A hollow, broken laugh dragged his attention back.

Echidna's shoulders sagged as her form began to give way, her voice thin and almost amused.

"What… what bad comedy…" she breathed, a crooked smile touching her lips. "Dragged into this wretched, decaying world… torn from my home… only to meet an ending so absurd."

Dante remained silent, watching as her body continued to fracture.

"S-seems… you were right, human," she murmured, her gaze trembling as it lifted to him. "My journey was preordained after all. These chains… I suppose I never had the strength to break them." Her breath hitched. "But… if my death is not at the hands of something lesser—if it is by you—then I find… some peace in that." A weak chuckle escaped her. "Mother of Monsters though I am… you truly are a monster, human."

Those were her final words.

Emerald light engulfed her form, bright and consuming, before it slowly began to disintegrate—breaking apart into shimmering fragments that scattered into nothingness.

Dante did not watch.

He turned his gaze upward instead.

("Called a monster by another,") he reflected quietly. The label no longer carried weight for him. If anything, there was a grim irony in being named so by the Mother of Monsters herself.

Then a sound rang out. A dull thud echoed before him, like something falling where nothing should have remained.

His gaze lowered.

The emerald radiance peeled away in drifting shards, shedding light as it faded—and beneath it, something else was revealed.

"What…?"

A body lay there.

Bare and unarmed. Curled inward as if seeking warmth. Long aqua-colored hair spilled across the earth, shielding delicate flesh. Her expression was peaceful, eyes closed, breath soft and steady—like someone lost in sleep.

She glowed faintly in the gloom.

For several seconds, Dante did not move.

He had to be certain this was real.

"Arielle?" he said at last, disbelief threading his voice.

It was the Goddess's body—whole and alive.

Impossible.

That body should have been beyond salvation.

("…The third party?") The thought surfaced again. He removed his coat without ceremony and cast it over her unconscious form. ("Did they separate Echidna's body and soul from Arielle—and restore her?")

He could not comprehend the method. Nor the motive.

He only knew the sensation that twisted in his chest—one he despised, one he buried immediately.

Relief.

Dante scoffed softly, shaking his head.

"Ridiculous."

"Oh my. Looking at the body of a defenseless, nude girl," A familiar voice purred, "you really are cruel, Dante~"

He heard her before he turned—he always did. That familiar cadence, Dante shifted his weight slightly as he angled his helm toward her.

Tamamo-no-Mae strolled closer without a hint of concern, as if this ruin and bloodshed were nothing more than a garden path.

Only her form was different.

She was a stunning woman, with distinctive fox-like features that immediately draw the eye. A pair of fox ears atop her head, along with an elegant display of nine fluffy golden tails that fanned out around her, adding to her ethereal appearance. She had radiating emerald eyes, set against her soft, fair skin. Her golden-blonde hair fell around her face and shoulders, framing her beautiful features and merely adding to her allure. A red flower accessory was placed artfully at the side of her head.

Her attire was elegant, a kimono-style garment with white outer layers and a black underlayer, cinched at the waist with a red sash. Her red sandals thudded against the ground as she walked.

"You're in that form," Dante said at last, voice flat. "You don't use it without reason. Were you in battle?"

She stopped beside him, folding her hands behind her back. "Nothing so dramatic, dear. I merely needed to… study something." Her gaze drifted over him then—too piercing to be idle. It paused at his left arm, mangled and dark with dried blood. For the briefest moment, her lips tightened. She smiled immediately after, as if nothing had happened. "Still, I never thought I'd see you like this again. Injured so badly." Her head tilted. "It must have been quite the battle."

"Merely my hubris," Dante replied with no embellishment or excuses.

Tamamo hummed softly, eyes turning past him to the unconscious figure in the ground. "And this is… Goddess Arielle."

"She was used to sustain the Mother of Monsters' form," Dante said. "Her body should have been ruined. Yet it's intact."

Tamamo's expression grew distant. "I may have an idea who we can thank for that."

"I see." Dante's gaze lowered to Arielle. "I don't particularly care for her. But leaving her here isn't an option. Her power is diminished, yet there are still many who would exploit the body of a Goddess."

"Odd words," Tamamo said gently, turning her eyes back to him. "You and Arielle were close, once. Or so I remember. That sounds almost… heartless."

Dante scoffed. "You know very well why. Arielle supported the Great War." His voice sharpened, just slightly. "You know what it cost. Cities erased. Soldiers killed. Subordinates lost. Entire battalions that trusted their Gods." He shook his head. "Those who sanctioned it don't get absolution because time passed."

Tamamo's ears dipped, just a little. "I do understand, Dante. Truly." Her gaze softened as it returned to Arielle. "But you also know not all of them acted without reason. Arielle was grieving. Gods may be all powerful, but grief doesn't spare them."

"Grief doesn't erase atrocities," Dante said. "I'm finished here."

He turned away—

—and felt fingers wrap gently around his ruined hand.

He froze.

Tamamo held it carefully, as if it might break. His nerves were fried, his arm barely responsive, yet he could almost feel her warmth seeping through the damage. Slowly, he turned back toward her.

"You're always like this," she sighed. "So quick to walk away. So determined to carry everything alone." She lifted his hand slightly, golden light blooming around it. "So cold. So unforgiving." The warmth deepened, strange and soothing, sinking into ruined flesh. "Despite that," she continued, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips, "you're terribly easy to read. For someone who hides behind a helmet… you're painfully transparent."

The light peeled away, revealing an arm restored—whole and pale, almost delicate beneath the torn sleeve and crushed gauntlet clinging uselessly to it.

Dante stared at it for a moment and said nothing.

Tamamo didn't let go.

"Honestly," she murmured, voice softer and it felt closer. "You don't need to keep playing the bloodied knight forever. You don't need to be this hard, this distant." Her thumb brushed faintly against his palm. "Even a path soaked in blood can still have room for warmth." She guided his hand upward, pressing it gently against her cheek. "There," she teased quietly. "Warmth. Or is that just your blood~?"

He grunted and withdrew his arm, stepping back half a pace.

"…You have my thanks," he said, flexing his fingers.

Tamamo's ears perked. "Oh, I am absolutely treasuring that." She grinned. "You have no idea how rare that is. Makes a girl feel all fluttery inside." She leaned in just a bit. "Even if you never look at me the way I want."

Dante exhaled slowly. "Moving on. What required your true form?"

She clicked her tongue. "How like you. Always marching ahead." One hand settled on her hip. "I had a… rather interesting conversation."

"About what?"

"The Moon," she said lightly.

Dante paused. "…The Moon?"

"Yes." Her gaze lifted skyward, emerald eyes reflecting the skies above. Her voice lost its teasing edge. "Apparently it's breaking."

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