The world moved in slow motion. A nightmare of blood and ash.

Eric's head lay at Dante's feet. Eyes open. Forever open. Staring at nothing.

Six figures stood over the corpse. Their smiles wide. Manic. Utterly wrong.

Vultures. Arrived at the end of a great war to feast on the victors.

The leader stepped forward. Tall. Handsome. Cruel intelligent eyes and a razor-blade smile.

His gaze swept over their broken forms. Appreciating. Savoring.

His five teammates fanned out behind him. Fluid. Practiced. Predatory.

They walked with the casual arrogance of those who had never known defeat.

One of them, a wiry boy with dark vines tattooed up his arms, stepped directly on Jin's outstretched hand.

CRUNCH.

The sound of bone breaking.

Jin didn't even scream. Too exhausted. Too broken.

They moved toward Lana. Still on the ground. Body covered in poisonous gashes.

She pushed herself to her knees. Gripped her staff. Her wild energy gone. Replaced by cold, familiar hatred.

'I know that walk. I know that smile. No. Not him. Anyone but him.'

"Lana."

The boy's voice was smooth. Condescending.

He stopped a few feet from her.

"Don't. You can't fight right now. Look at yourself. Don't make this harder."

"Lucien." Lana's voice was venomous. "Fuck off. Go find some other corpses to pick over."

At the mention of his name, Lucien's gaze snapped to Dante.

The smile vanished. Replaced by pure poison.

A look of deep, festering hatred cultivated over years.

'That face. I know that face. The orphanage. He was... older. Stronger. He used to...'

Dante's mind reeled. Fragments of grey walls. Cold floors. Beatings in the dark.

And this face. Always this face.

"Still following him, Lana?" Lucien's voice dropped. Turned cold. "Even now. Even here."

"You never saw me. Never. Always him. That pathetic little rat."

He took a step closer. His voice rising with bitter rage.

"College. I thought college would change things. I thought you'd finally wake up."

"But no. Still trailing after garbage. Still protecting a mistake."

He looked from her to Dante. A cruel light dawning in his eyes.

"Do you know how that felt? Watching you waste yourself on him?"

"But now..." He smiled. "Now you get to watch what I do to him. What I should have done years ago."

---

He started walking toward Dante. Each step deliberate. A hammer blow.

Dante tried to push himself up. His body screaming.

He reached for the power within. For the tethers to his summons.

'Guardian. Derek. Edgar. Ouroboros. Hephaestus. Answer me. ANSWER ME!'

He gathered the last dregs of his mana. A flickering candle flame in a vast desert.

He tried to call them.

Nothing.

The connection was there. Faint. Dead. But they wouldn't answer.

His mana felt... clogged. Stagnant. Inside him but not flowing.

'What... what is this? Why can't I...?'

Lucien saw the confusion. The dawning terror.

He laughed. A barking sound of malicious glee.

"It's no use." He stopped. Looming over Dante. "You can't use your magic. You're useless. Like always."

He glanced over his shoulder at a boy with silver hair and calm grey eyes.

"Veyrion didn't even need to try. You're that pathetic."

'A skill. They have someone who blocks magic. The perfect counter. My entire power... useless. Completely useless.'

His instincts screamed. His hand scrabbled for Soul-Drinker. Lying on the stone beside him.

His fingers brushed cold leather—

Then new pain erupted.

He looked down.

The blood weeping from his wounds was no longer dripping.

Drip. Drip.

It was rising.

Tiny crimson beads floated into the air. Drawn by unseen gravity.

They came together in front of him. A swirling sphere of his own life force.

Pulled by another of Lucien's teammates. A pale, thin boy watching with detached curiosity.

Dante cried out. A choked, gurgling sound.

The pain of his blood being pulled from his body was violating. Intimate. Agony.

He collapsed to his knees. Helpless.

The sphere compressed. Solidified. Elongated.

Forming a blade. A longsword forged from his own life. Its edge translucent ruby red.

It flew through the air. Settled into Lucien's waiting hand.

He admired it. Profound satisfaction on his face.

"Beautiful. I like whenever I kill anyone with their own blood"

Then he kicked him.

THUD.

A simple, contemptuous kick to the ribs. Sending him sprawling.

He kicked again. And again. Jarring his broken body.

'Can't... move. Can't fight. Can't do anything. This is how I die. Beaten like a dog by a ghost from the past.'

---

"Stop!"

Lana's voice. Desperate.

She was crawling. Dragging her wounded body across blood-soaked stone.

"Lucien, please! Stop! You want to hurt someone? Hurt me! Just leave him alone!"

"Lana, no!" Another voice. Rina.

She had found strength to stand. Stumbled over. Her hands glowing with faint healing light.

She placed them on Dante's chest. Gentle warmth against brutal impacts.

She looked up at Lucien. Her gentle face fierce. Defiant.

"Get away from him." Her voice shaking but firm. "Please. We're beaten. There's no honor in this."

Lucien stopped kicking.

Looked down at her. This small, fragile girl daring to stand between him and revenge.

He laughed. Cold. Empty. Promising only pain.

"Honor?"

He raised the blood-red sword.

"I'm not here for honor."

A single, fluid motion.

Shliick.

The blade sliced through air with a wet whisper.

Rina didn't scream.

The sword split her stomach. Its crimson edge passing through her like water.

For a moment, she just stood there. Eyes wide with stunned surprise.

Then her body fell apart. Collapsing in a grotesque heap.

"RINA!" Masha screamed. Her voice raw with horror.

Jin tried to move. Couldn't. "No... no no no..."

Kael was sobbing. Erica holding him.

Talia, barely conscious, whispered, "She's dead. She's actually dead."

---

The sight sent a jolt of pure rage through Dante that eclipsed pain.

'His attention is on her body. His guard is down. This is my chance. One chance. I have to take it.'

He lunged for Soul-Drinker.

His hand closed around the hilt.

'I'm going to kill him. Even if it's the last thing I do. Even if it kills me. He dies first.'

But the ground erupted.

Thick, thorny vines—the color of dried blood shot up from cracks in stone.

Alive. Impossibly fast.

They coiled around his arms. His legs. His torso. Thorns digging deep into his flesh.

Locking him in an unbreakable living cage.

'No. NO! I was so close! So fucking close!'

Lucien turned. His manic smile returning.

He looked at the boy with vine tattoos. Who gave a satisfied nod.

Then he looked back at Dante. At his right arm. The arm holding his sword.

His eyes narrowed. The smile widening into ecstatic rage.

"You wanted to fight back?" His voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You wanted to be a hero?"

He raised the blood-red sword.

"A hero needs his sword hand, doesn't he?"

The blade swung.

Pain. White. Blinding. A supernova consuming the universe.

Dante screamed—

A raw, animal sound of soul-shattering agony—

As the blade sliced through his arm just below the shoulder.

THUD.

His arm, still clutching Soul-Drinker, fell to the ground with a wet, heavy sound.

The world dissolved into a vortex of pain and darkness.

"DANTE!" Lana's scream was inhuman. Grief and rage and despair.

Masha's ice flickered. Trying to form. Failing. "No... Dante... no..."

Jin roared. Trying to stand. Collapsing. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

But they were all helpless. All broken. All watching.

As Lucien stood over Dante's mutilated body.

As the blood pooled.

As the last of Dante's consciousness faded.

The last thing he saw was Lucien's triumphant, laughing face.

And the last thing he thought was simple.

Clear.

Terrible.

'I'm going to die here. After everything. I'm going to die in the dirt. Like the orphanage. Like I always feared.'

'I never got my happy end.'

Then darkness took him.

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