Dante's footsteps echoed through the vast emptiness of the Netherworld, each sound reverberating through the cold, oppressive silence. The air was thick and heavy with a darkness that seemed to have a life of its own, pressing against his chest as if to smother him. He could feel the weight of the place on his shoulders, a weight that no mortal should ever have to bear. Yet, despite every fiber of his being screaming for him to turn back, he pushed forward.
Cecilia's life, her soul, was in the balance, and Dante would do anything to reclaim her from the clutches of the Netherworld. He had to. The sheer intensity of his desire to save her was a burning force inside him-so much that it seemed to give him strength, even in the face of impossible odds.
He had faced monsters before, enemies with claws and teeth, with bloodlust in their eyes. But this was different. This was the Netherworld. This was a place where time itself twisted and turned, where nightmares were born, and where even the bravest of souls could lose themselves. And yet, Dante had no choice. He would fight for Cecilia, even if it meant fighting himself.
The ground beneath his feet was rough, cracked like the surface of a long-dead world. The light was dim, the very air tinged with an eerie red hue, as if the sun had never risen here. In the distance, Dante could hear whispers-soft at first, but growing louder with each step he took. They seemed to come from all directions, voices that carried with them pain, sorrow, and regret. Souls lost in the dark, unable to move on.
Dante clenched his jaw, his fist tightening around the hilt of his sword. He could not let these voices distract him. He had heard whispers before, in his dreams, in the recesses of his mind. But this was different. The Netherworld was a place where even the bravest souls were stripped of their resolve.
Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath him. The whispers faded into a deep, resonating growl, one that made the very air vibrate with malevolent energy. He froze, every muscle in his body coiled in readiness.
Then, a massive shadow appeared, blocking his path. Dante's breath caught in his throat as the shape materialized, a gargantuan creature that towered above him, its molten eyes glowing with an otherworldly fire. Its body was made of twisted stone, as though it had been hewn from the very bones of the earth. Massive, jagged claws scraped against the ground as it advanced, each step making the air tremble with power.
"Dante," the creature's voice rumbled, deep and guttural, like the sound of rocks grinding against one another. "You dare enter this realm, uninvited, seeking to claim what is not yours? You will regret this."
Dante met its gaze without hesitation. The creature's words were designed to intimidate, to sow fear and doubt, but Dante had no time for fear. Cecilia was here, somewhere in this realm, and he would not let anything-no creature, no force-stop him.
"I'm not leaving without her," Dante said, his voice steady, though his heart hammered in his chest.
The creature's laughter echoed through the Netherworld, mocking him, as it loomed over him. "You are nothing but a mortal," it said, its voice dripping with disdain. "You cannot defy the laws of the Netherworld. You cannot take what belongs to us."
Dante's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his sword. "I'll take what is mine," he said, his words cold and unwavering. "No matter the cost."
With a roar, the creature lunged at him, claws bared. Dante barely had time to react. The creature's massive claws swiped through the air, tearing apart the ground where Dante had just been standing. The sheer force of the attack sent shockwaves through the air, rattling Dante's senses. But he was quick, moving to the side just in time. His sword gleamed as he swung it in retaliation, aiming for the creature's exposed flank.
