It had been days.
Days without real sleep.
Where nightmares replaced dreams and the little rest he allowed himself felt more like mental paralysis.
He was no longer hungry, no longer thirsty, and had nowhere left to go.
Rain, cold, pain, screams… they were now part of him. A second skin.
Dante Godwin no longer chased hope. He was chasing a memory.
His mother's.
Her gaze, especially — or what was left of it: an eye. An organic relic, stolen, scattered across the city by those Caledron bastards.
He had crossed it all. The ash forests of the North Quarter. The black markets of Darnholm.
And always the same rumor: "The Eye exists." It hadn't been devoured by Sarn.
But the eye was never in his hands.
And now? Only he remained. Him… and this freezing rain.
That morning, he stumbled to the gates of St. Raphael Central Hospital, his boots splashing through puddles.
His coat was nothing but a soaked rag. His left arm still bore the marks of the fight against Malek, and his chest burned with every breath.
But he kept walking. Always.
Because something was calling to him.
He pushed open the automatic doors, which creaked despite the tech.
A man in a white coat looked up from his terminal. He paled.
— "Sir… can I help you?"
— "Annabelle Edwin." His voice was hoarse, like a man who had screamed all night.
The doctor stood up, worried. He checked his tablet hurriedly.
— "Uh… the woman? Yes, she was admitted a few months ago."
He hesitated, looked Dante in the eye.
— "But she's no longer here."
Silence.
Then, slowly:
— "Explain."
The doctor swallowed hard.
— "She… she disappeared five days ago. Right after the last storm. The cameras show nothing. Her room was empty. No struggle, no break-in. But…"
— "But?"
— "Two men in black came asking for you. Even before she vanished. We let them in. We thought they were… family."
— "What family, damn it?" Dante growled, jaw clenched.
The doctor stepped back. A chill swept through the entire reception area. A nurse dropped a metal tray, the clang echoing across the tiles.
Dante said no more. He turned on his heels. His soaked silhouette already fading into the misty rain.
The road home was agony.
The wind pushed against him. The streetlights flickered, as if Dante's presence disrupted even electricity.
He ran, boots sliding, black hair sticking to his face.
Then he smelled it.
Not rain.
But the choking stench… of burning flesh.
And at the corner, he saw the flames.
The house ablaze.
Firefighters struggled to contain the fire, but something strange rose from the flames — a purplish hue. A smell denser than simple combustion. Some police officers wore reinforced armor. Far too much for a basic fire.
— "Back up! Back up, damn it!"
— "We've got an anomaly on site! Call in reinforcements now!"
But in the chaos… Dante moved forward.
— "Stop him!"
Weapons were raised.
An agent fired.
The projectile shattered against an invisible barrier.
— "Shit, it's him… It's him!"
And the police took a step back.
He didn't hear them. Didn't see them. All he saw was that gaping, blackened doorway. And, at the end of the hall… two shapes. Two bodies.
One tall. One small. Both reduced to ash.
His legs trembled. His heart clenched. But he didn't cry. He didn't scream.
He placed his hand on the scorched floor, and the next moment, a wave of dark energy spread from him.
The people nearby recoiled in terror. Some dropped to their knees, others vomited.
Dante had just used his energy like a radar. And that radar had picked up a powerful presence.
The dark wave spread across several hundred meters. Invisible to most, but felt in the bone marrow by those who knew.
A deep, organic pulsing. Like the heartbeat of something ancient and buried under tons of hate and pain.
Dante closed his eyes. His breath ragged. He could hear everything. Eyelash flutters, tears, whispers. But he filtered them out.
He was searching for one thing.
A dissonant aura. An anomaly in the frequency.
And he found it.
Two blocks away.
Fast. Calm. Prepared. Too prepared.
A professional.
With a single leap, Dante launched himself. Not running. Not like a man.
Like a beast.
He hurled through the air, shattering pavement tiles.
He landed on a rooftop, his knee splitting concrete, then bounded again, clawing walls bare-handed.
His silhouette vanished, leaving only gusts in his wake.
He saw him.
A man in black, tall, armored, energy rifle on his back, magnetic sword at his waist.
He was running, glancing around in panic.
Dante landed silently in front of him, blocking the way. The man leapt back, drawing his weapon.
— "Out of my way, monster."
Dante tilted his head. His voice no longer human. It was a growl.
— "Where… is she?"
— "I don't know who you're talking about. And I'm not your enemy."
He raised his weapon. Dante stepped forward without flinching.
— "They burned my house. They took my sister. And you dare look at me without trembling?"
— "I'm an Inquisitor. Sent to monitor anomalies. I had nothing to do with the fire."
— "Lies."
And the world froze.
In a blink, Dante vanished. Reappeared behind him.
The man barely turned when his arm twisted at an impossible angle.
— "YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!"
The man screamed, teeth clenched. He struck back, drew a dagger, plunged it into Dante's side…
… and the blade shattered.
Armor beneath skin. Flesh reinforced by corruption.
Dante grabbed his throat and lifted him, eyes bloodshot and crackling with black lightning.
Despite his tech, the soldier's heart raced at absurd speed. Then slowed. Then raced again. He was choking.
— "They screamed, didn't they? You heard her? You looked at her? You don't even know what you did… You don't…"
The man gasped, then broke.
— "Alright, alright… I swear I know nothing! I was on the rooftops, I got a surveillance order ! There… there was a purge ! We don't get names, we don't get targets!"
— "Who gives the orders ?"
— "Division O. Kovalien. Special ops. I swear that's all I know… I swe—"
Too late.
Dante's fist fell. Skull crushed against the tiles. Flesh against steel.
He finished him. Not out of necessity. But instinct.
Dante stayed there, kneeling, arms shaking. He felt the rain, but it no longer washed anything.
It clung, seeped into his wounds, dripped into his open mouth. He looked at his hands. But they weren't hands anymore.
Claws. Red and black. His blood pulsed with impure energy.
He no longer breathed. He growled.
And that growl… it wasn't anger.
It was hunger.
A shiver climbed his spine.
— "No… no, no, no…"
He collapsed to his knees. His body trembled, then arched back. He spat blood. The dark energy pulsed around him like a storm.
His humanity… was fleeing. He had used too much power. Too fast. Too hard. He had crossed the line. And now…
He was losing what was left of his mother — his humanity.
It all blurred in his memory, replaced by another sound, the sound of the rain.
People were arriving.
Some running in panic. Others backing away, crying.
Firefighters. Agents. Children.
All staring at him.
This man… covered in blood, eyes split by black veins, veins glowing red.
Some fell to their knees.
Others whisperedb:
— "Filthy monster…"
— "Where the hell did this savage come from…?"
And Dante, kneeling in the rain, was nothing but a shadow of himself. He wanted to speak, but all that came from his mouth was a growl.
This world he once loved now looked at him with disdain. They judged him with their eyes.
Then he suddenly collapsed, drained by exhaustion, and only adrenaline kept him going in his madness.