[ Third person POV ]
"Anyway, Dante, how do you want to handle this? It's your call," Mark said over the phone, his tone casual but carrying a hint of seriousness.
"Hmm… let me think."
Dante paused, gears already turning at light speed. He ran through the possibilities in his head. Charging straight into the asylum sounded like the simplest option—but with the way Mark described the place, that kind of move could send things off the rails fast.
"I mean, sure," he muttered to himself, "I could wipe out every spirit in there solo and it would be easy... but where's the fun in that?"
After a brief pause, Dante spoke again, his tone thoughtful.
"Think you can get in contact with the crew from the show?"
"I can, but it won't be easy. Why? What are you planning?" Mark asked, his tone laced with curiosity.
"I'm thinking… maybe you can get me on their team as a bodyguard or something. If I keep those idiots alive, I can charge more—and at the same time, use them as bait to lure those spirits out," he said casually.
"Jeez, Dante… that's pretty dark," Mark muttered, though he was already used to Dante's twisted sense of strategy. "Anyway, I can get you on their team. It'll take a bit of time, but not too long—so use that window to prep. I'll call you once everything's set."
"Sounds good," Dante said with a mischievous smile. "But this time, I'm doing the job solo. I want to have a little fun with these evil spirits."
"Yeah, yeah—whatever, Dante," Mark said, rolling his eyes. "I'll call you when everything's ready. Talk to you later." With that, he hung up.
"Jeez, didn't even let me say bye," Dante muttered, eyeing the phone with mild irritation. "Rude." He casually tossed it back onto the landline base, where it landed perfectly.
—————
[ First person POV ]
"Man, I've already got a job lined up—crazy," Dante muttered, running a hand through his hair. "What should I wear? I'm gonna be hunting down evil spirits—like a whole damn army of them. The way Mark described it, there's probably a dozen, maybe more. And I've gotta look amazing doing it."
He paused, glancing at his reflection in the window, then started pacing around his office.
"I mean, I'll be protecting those ghost-hunting idiots. I already am amazing... but I need to be more amazing."
He tapped his chin, mentally flipping through outfit ideas, trying to picture what would strike the perfect balance between intimidating, stylish, and battle-ready.
But then he stopped, his eyes drifting back to the mirror. Slowly, he walked toward it, staring at his reflection in silence. He took a deep breath, a flicker of melancholy passing through his eyes.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He remembered how he got here—how he was reborn into this world, how he clawed his way up, growing stronger with each passing year. And how it all began with a single choice… accepting that offer from that being.
[ Flashback ]
In a realm of endless white, a lone man stood amidst the emptiness. He had black hair, sharp green eyes behind a pair of glasses, and an otherwise unassuming appearance. Dressed in a plain T-shirt and loose-fitting pants, he looked like any ordinary person—except for the hint of muscle that suggested there was more to him than met the eye.
[ Image ]
He glanced around the endless white, confusion written across his face. Where was he? As he slowly looked upward, his eyes widened in shock—turning pale with disbelief. Towering above him was a face, but not just any face. It was a being unlike anything he had ever seen—its features composed of swirling stars, its entire body shimmering with galaxies and cosmic light. It was massive—so vast it seemed to stretch across existence itself.
He took a slow breath, steadying himself as best he could. Then, with a voice firm but edged with unease, he spoke:
"Who… are you?"
Then the being spoke—its voice deep, vast, and void of emotion, yet laced with a curious undertone of interest.
"I have been known by many names across the ages," it said, the words echoing as if carried through the fabric of space itself. "But for now… you may call me Dream."
It paused, eyes like swirling galaxies fixed on him.
"And you… Nathan Thomas."
It wasn't a question. It was a truth—spoken with absolute certainty, as though the being had known his name long before he was ever born.
The man—now called Nathan—spoke, his voice uncertain.
"So, Dream… what am I doing here? Where even is here?" He paused, scanning the endless white around him. "The last thing I remember was falling asleep in my bed… then suddenly, I woke up in this place."
His tone was laced with confusion as his eyes flicked between the void and the towering figure before him waiting for some answers.
"This place has no name," Dream said, his voice deep and steady, like the echo of eternity. "It has existed since the beginning of all things, unchanged through the ages. Its purpose remains the same—to guide souls to where they belong… what you mortals call Heaven or Hell."
He paused, eyes glowing faintly like distant stars.
"Normally, I would judge you and send you on your way without delay. But you… you're an exception."
"Wait… I'm supposed to be here?" Nathan asked, his voice edged with surprise and disbelief.
"Yes," Dream replied, his voice steady and unyielding. "But before you ask—know this: you have a choice. And if you choose to accept what I'm Asking, I will provide you with the tools necessary to complete this task."
"So, what exactly is my choice—if I may ask?" Nathan said, his voice curious, eyes fixed on the towering being called Dream, eager to understand what was being asked of him.
"Here are your choices," Dream said, his deep voice echoing through the endless white expanse. "You may pass on to the afterlife—what you mortals call Heaven. You've lived a good life, caused no harm, and earned your rest."
He paused for a moment, his cosmic eyes locked onto Nathan's.
"Or... you can choose to aid me. There is a world in need—one plagued by powerful, malevolent forces. If you accept, I will grant you three wishes, along with the tools and knowledge necessary to face the dangers that await."
He stared, stunned by what he'd just heard.
"You want me to go to a world filled with demons, evil spirits, and who knows what else?" Nathan said, eyes wide in disbelief. "How am I supposed to do that? I'm just a regular guy. I watch anime, play games, binge horror movies—hell, I'm lazy. Cautious, sure… but mostly lazy."
He took a breath, trying to wrap his head around it.
"Even if I manage to survive whatever nightmare world you're talking about, what do I actually get out of this? Because let's be real—you're talking about me going up against beings that could torture me alive or do things way worse than death. So if I'm putting my life on the line, I need to know it's for something. Something worth the risk."
His tone was serious now. "So, tell me… what's in it for me?"
Dream stared at Nathan in silence for a moment, unmoving. Then, without a word, his massive form began to shift—shrinking down until he stood at Nathan's height.
Now face-to-face, Dream appeared as a faceless man, his "skin" a swirling canvas of stars and galaxies, like the universe itself wrapped around a human shape. Despite his cosmic form, he now wore a perfectly tailored suit—elegant, timeless, and impossibly pristine.
Even at this smaller size, his presence was overwhelming.
[ Image ]
Dream began to slowly circle Nathan, hands clasped behind his back, his faceless head tilted slightly—as if studying a rare specimen. Each step was deliberate, silent, and unsettling in its precision. After a full circle, he stopped directly in front of Nathan.
Then he spoke, his voice calm, with a quiet thread of amusement woven into its cosmic depth.
"So, tell me… what is it you truly desire, Nathan?" Dream asked, his tone reflective. "I understand the nature of what I'm offering—this task is no simple feat. You'd be sent to a world overflowing with demons, spirits, and beings far worse. The danger is real, and the cost could be everything. It's only natural that you would want something in return."
He tilted his head, the stars and galaxies swirling faintly across his form.
"If you succeed," he continued, "I will grant you a wish—one with limitless potential. You may ask for anything. All I require… is your acceptance—and your success."
Nathan was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then he looked directly at Dream and spoke with quiet determination.
"If I accept this… then I'm going to need the right equipment, the right abilities, and the knowledge to survive—no, to succeed. Because I'm not dying again… especially not in a world that's even worse than the one I came from."
Dream gave a slow nod, his voice calm and resonant.
"That's understandable. Very well—once you've made your three wishes, and once you leave this realm, I will grant you the equipment you'll need to succeed."
He paused, the cosmic patterns on his form subtly shifting.
"Now then, Nathan Thomas… do you accept?"
He took a deep breath, nerves tightening in his chest, and swallowed hard before giving a firm nod.
"Yes… I accept. I'll do it."
"Good. Very good," Dream said, his voice resonating with calm authority.
He raised his hand, three fingers extended, the swirling galaxies across his form pulsing faintly with anticipation.
"Now then… what is your first wish?"
Nathan placed two fingers under his chin, deep in thought. His first wish needed to count—an ability that would let him improve quickly. He wasn't planning on wasting years training or slowly mastering his skills. If he was going to survive this new world, he needed something that would accelerate his growth from the very start.
Nathan's eyes lit up as the idea struck him. He looked up at Dream with newfound certainty.
"I wish for a passive ability that allows me to instantly master anything related to combat—every type of weapon, every form of martial arts, including those from any show or movie I've ever seen or can remember. Complete and instinctive mastery, without the need for training."
"Done," Dream said as he lowered one finger, leaving two raised.
"And now… what is your second wish?" he asked, his voice calm and expectant.
Nathan grinned, a flicker of excitement dancing in his eyes.
"For my second wish… I want the Essence of Blank," he said confidently, his voice steady with anticipation.
Dream let out a low hum, the stars across his form shimmering with faint intrigue.
"Hah… a truly fascinating choice," he said, his voice echoing with subtle amusement. "The Essence of Blank—limitless potential, boundless growth… A rare and ambitious wish."
He lowered a second finger, leaving just one raised.
"Done," Dream said simply. "Now then, Nathan Thomas… what is your third and final wish?"
"And for my last wish," Nathan said, his voice steady and full of confidence, a smug grin spreading across his face, "I wish for the Essence of the Archmage."
He met Dream's gaze with unmistakable excitement in his eyes, the weight of his choice setting in with anticipation.
Dream let out a low, rumbling chuckle—deep and resonant, like distant thunder echoing through the void.
"Essence of the Archmage... What a truly fascinating choice," he said, a hint of genuine intrigue in his voice. "You've surprised me, Nathan. That doesn't happen often. In fact… it's quite rare."
He lowered his hand, the final finger falling.
"Done," he said simply. "Now, there's just one final thing before you leave this realm, Nathan."
"What is that?" he asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
Without saying a word, Dream raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly, a figure appeared—a faceless, completely black mannequin with a muscular build.
[ image]
"And what is this?" Nathan asked, pointing at the figure with confusion.
"This, Nathan, will be your body," Dream said, pacing around him, his tone measured and deliberate. "Of course, you'll have the option to change your appearance—and even your race. But if you're going to face the malevolent forces of that world, you'll need a body built for the hunt. A body made to kill evil. One that feels no pain. One whose sole purpose is to learn, to fight, and to protect."
Then Dream stopped beside the blank, faceless body, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Now, Nathan," he said calmly, "how do you plan to change your body? What race do you wish to be? How do you want to look? Because once you decide, I will move your soul into this form—and understand this: it won't be temporary. This will be your body, forever."
Nathan stepped toward his soon-to-be body, studying it in silence for a moment. Then he spoke, his voice steady.
"I want the race of a High Human. I don't want to lose my humanity. I'd rather remain human—or better yet, become an advanced version of one."
Suddenly, the body began to shift. Its skin lightened, eyes materialized, followed by a mouth, ears, and a nose. A patch of hair sprouted, and the body itself became well-built, functioning perfectly. The form was entirely male, yet its face remained a blank canvas—emotionless, devoid of expressions.
He was mildly surprised by the transformation of his soon-to-be body. By now, though, nothing truly shocked him. He had seen enough to understand that in this place—this endless white void—the impossible was entirely possible.
He turned to Dream, pointed at his new body, and asked, "So all I have to do is say what I want to change, and the body will transform? Is that right?" His voice carried a mix of curiosity and amazement.
"That's right," Dream said, his tone calm but firm. "This is your body. The choice is yours alone. It's not my place to decide what's good or bad for you. Even if you choose to become a demon—that is your decision. My only concern is that you accomplish your task."
He spoke with a quiet respect, making it clear he had no intention of interfering with whatever path Nathan chose.
"Well, thanks for that. Truly," he said, nodding in appreciation. He was genuinely grateful that Dream was allowing him to make his own choices.
He then turned his head to look at his newly formed body and let a small smirk tug at the corner of his lips. Ideas were already forming—he had plenty of ways he planned to improve it.
Several hours passed...
"Finally done," Nathan said, pride in his voice as he admired his work. What was once a blank canvas now stood before him as a fully formed, strikingly handsome body.
Nathan's new body bore a striking resemblance to Dante Sparda—snow-white hair, piercing blue eyes—but surpassed it in physical refinement. His frame was taller, his musculature more defined, with broad shoulders, powerful limbs, and a perfectly sculpted eight-pack. Every detail radiated strength and purpose, designed for combat yet shaped with almost artistic precision.
As for his manhood—let's just say it matched the rest of his physique: bold, impressive, and impossible to ignore.
He then turned to Dream.
"Dream, do you have any suggestions for a new name for me?" he asked. "I mean, I've already chosen Dante as my first name, but I have no idea what to use for a last name. Any thoughts?"
Nathan looked at him with a hint of hope in his eyes, genuinely curious to hear what Dream might suggest for this new chapter of his life.
Dream looked mildly surprised by the question, his gaze lingering on Nathan for a moment before turning thoughtful. He fell silent, considering it carefully. After a few seconds, he turned back to Nathan and spoke.
"What about Solomon?" he said. "In my opinion, that name alone strikes fear into the hearts of demons. After all, Solomon once commanded demons to build a temple—enslaved them through sheer will and divine authority. It's safe to say most demons hate the name. Just hearing it would make them tremble."
"Solomon, huh? Doesn't sound bad... Dante Solomon," he said, testing the name aloud. It rolled off his tongue smoothly, and he gave a small, satisfied smirk.
He looked directly at Dream, then turned his gaze to his new body. A contented sigh escaped him as he slid his hands into his pockets.
"From this moment on," he said with quiet pride, "I discard my old name—Nathan Thomas. My new name is Dante Solomon."
His voice carried the weight of certainty, full of confidence and purpose.
"Well then, I guess this is goodbye, Dream," Dante said with a smirk.
"For now, we'll see each other again," Dream said, holding out his hand. "To you, it might be centuries, a decade, or even a millennium. To me, it might be just a month. So no, Dante—this isn't goodbye. At best, it's a 'see you later.'"
He grasped Dante's hand firmly. "I wish you luck, Dante Solomon—the Slayer, the Doom of All Evil."
"Slayer? Doom? You're making me sound like the next Doom Slayer. That's pretty cheesy—and cliché," Dante chuckled, finding the moment a bit over the top.
He gripped Dream's hand firmly and gave a respectful nod, smirking. "But, I'll admit, I do like the sound of 'Slayer.' And 'Doom' does sound pretty cool—even if it is a little cheesy."
"So, what happens now?" Dante asked, releasing Dream's hand.
"This," Dream said, placing his hand gently on Dante's head, "is where your adventure begins."
With that, Dante's vision faded to black as he was sent off on his journey.
When Dante woke up, he found himself lying on a filthy bed inside an abandoned house. Glancing down at his body, he immediately knew he was in his new form.
Curious, he looked around the grim room and then turned his head toward a broken mirror. He stood up, walked over, and examined his reflection—there, staring back at him, was his new face.
"Damn, I look amazing," he muttered, a smirk spreading across his face.
He was relieved to see that he still looked like a 20-year-old man—mature, strong, and in his prime. The thought of reliving childhood made him shudder. He silently thanked Dream for sparing him that experience.
As he looked himself over, he noticed he was wearing a long, red leather jacket—just like Dante's. Paired with black leather pants, a fitted black shirt, and sturdy black boots, the outfit suited him perfectly.
"Wow... this looks great on me," he said, admiring his reflection, proud of his new body and appearance.
"But I guess now's not the time to admire my work," he muttered, sighing. "I've got a lot to do."
He slouched for a moment, then straightened up with determination. "First things first—I need to study everything. Ugh, that's going to suck... Hopefully, that'll be the easy part."
He rubbed the back of his neck, already thinking ahead.
"Second, I need to improve my strength—big time. I'm talking mountain-crushing strength. Maybe I'm overreacting... but I'm not taking any chances."
He glanced around the rundown room, then back at his reflection, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"This isn't gonna be easy, huh?" he said to himself, shaking his head and chuckling.
[ Flashback End ]
"It's been so long since then... man, time really flies," he said to himself, smirking as he admired his perfectly sculpted physique and striking appearance.
It had been over 20 years since Dante first arrived in this world. He spent the first decade in that same abandoned house—training relentlessly, pushing his limits, and combing through every memory and scrap of knowledge he could recall to grow stronger.
When he finally discovered the gift Dream had left him, he was ecstatic. A sleek, futuristic phone—far more advanced than anything this world had ever seen—yet infused with powerful magical properties. With it, he had access to limitless knowledge. It became his greatest tool, allowing him to research every type of dark entity: evil spirits, demons, supernatural beings, vampires, werewolves, and countless other creatures that lurked in the shadows.
He memorized everything—studied them down to the smallest detail—understanding their weaknesses, behaviors, and histories.
After ten intense years of preparation, when he was confident enough in his strength and knowledge, he finally stepped beyond the broken walls of that house and into the world.
The next ten years were spent exploring—meeting people, gathering real-world experience, and continuing his training. Every day, he pushed himself harder, determined to be ready for anything… even something as devastating as a nuclear explosion. He prepared for every scenario, learned and recreated powerful spells, mastered rituals, and developed a vast arsenal of techniques specifically designed to destroy demons or protect the innocent.
He wasn't just ready—he had become a living weapon, forged in solitude, sharpened by knowledge, and tempered by time.
It was around that time that Dante met Mark—a guy who, at the time, was possessed by some vengeful spirit. The details of the case didn't really matter; what mattered was that Dante handled it. Once the spirit was dealt with, something unexpected happened: he and Mark became friends.
They talked often after that. Dante, while still secretive, shared bits and pieces of his supernatural knowledge with Mark—just enough to satisfy his growing curiosity. At the time, Mark was just an ordinary guy. He worked a regular job, had no girlfriend, and only a small circle of friends he rarely saw, though they kept in touch.
Eventually, the two started traveling across the country together. It was during one of their long drives that Mark pitched an idea—something Dante wouldn't have bothered thinking about on his own. Dante had been too lazy to plan anything structured, but he listened anyway.
Mark suggested they start a business. Something legit. A service for people tormented by the supernatural—hauntings, possessions, attacks from dark creatures. At first, it sounded like a half-baked idea. But the more Dante thought about it, the more it made sense. Wandering the world solo, taking jobs one at a time, was inefficient and slow.
So, Dante ran with it. And now—here he is.
[ Image ]
"Maybe I should switch it up—wear something darker," Dante muttered to himself, eyeing his reflection. "Black makes me look a bit scarier... and, let's be honest, a whole lot cooler."
He smirked. "I mean, I already look amazing—but I want to be nightmare-level amazing."
With that thought, he set out to find the perfect outfit—something that would elevate his style and strike fear into the hearts of spirits. He wasn't just aiming to look good. He wanted to be a walking omen—sharp, intimidating, unforgettable.
==============
Man, I really hope this chapter turned out good enough—seriously, it wasn't easy to write. I tried not to make it toodramatic, but hey, I hope you enjoyed it.
Now do me a favor… send me those power stones!
[ Word count 3,871 ]
[ End of the Chapter ]