In the large expanse of a lab, illuminated by a blue-white glow of overhead panels. At the lab's center, held high on a pedestal crafted from an iridescent alloy, was the Divine Blade Nihil that had since been moved to a more secured location—as ever, the blade radiated an unsettling aura; the rune-like patterns on its dark surface seeming to shift and writhe.
Surrounding the blade was an ensemble of scientists, outfitted in slick, form-fitting uniforms of deep charcoal, each adorned with razor-edged accents of crimson that slashed down the sleeves and collar. They murmured amongst themselves, a flurry of whispering. One of the lead scientists, Professor Kessler, stood at the forefront, adjusting his black gloves as he addressed the group.
"We're the new team in charge of the blade; our goal here is to decipher the energy fluctuations emanating from Nihil. Understanding its power could lead to breakthroughs unimaginable," he asserted, his voice steady despite the edge of unease lining his words. He knew the blade was property of Galadriel; furthermore, he knew how this blade came into their possession. For what purpose the Chaosmaws gave Vel'ryr this weapon he did not know, but the idea of studying a piece of Divine weaponry was too enticing.
As his colleagues nodded, a show of doubt was apparent on their faces. "But what if it's too dangerous?" interjected a younger scientist, her brow furrowed. She shifted nervously, clutching her tablet like a lifeline. Outfitted guards, their sleek, advanced black armor gleaming under the lights large glare, shifted their rifles, senses heightened, ensuring that even the slightest hint of insurrection would be swiftly quashed.
The beeping of machinery underscored the scientists' discussions. Dr. Kessler paced slowly, his heels clicking sharply against the floor, drawing attention to the serrated grip of Nihil that beckoned from its elevated podium. "This blade has a sentience, a will. Fuels our understanding of mana manipulation," he continued, gesturing towards a bank of screens that flickered to life at his command, displaying a myriad of data points and visual simulations that moved chaotically across the glass surface.
"Look," he beckoned, pointing directly to a spike of dark energy surging on one screen. "This is what we have to understand. We must engage with it! It could represent the next step in our research, perhaps even shift the paradigm of reality itself."
Most still looked rather unsure, so a more senior scientist, Professor Lark, frowned reluctantly, her voice laced with caution, "There's a difference between understanding and control. This could unleash forces we can't fathom. And do we not question how we came into possession of this blade?"
Sensing the fluctuating tension, Professor Kessler raised his arms slightly, a gesture that framed the blade like an artifact. "Think of the possibilities!" he urged, seeking to ignite flames of ambition within some of the group. "Nihil while a blade or destruction could transcend the limitations of material manifestation. Imagine infusing the capabilities of this blade into our technology—rendering us invincible! We're standing on the brink of something monumental!"
Finally, the atmosphere silenced most, still unsure. The scientists exchanged looks; uncertainty going against any ambition. Professor Lark sighed softly, "Fine," she breathed, "but we proceed with extreme caution."
With a synchronized motion, the scientists began their preparatory routines, aligning equipment and calibrating sensors; each movement was from experts. Guards shifted into place, rifles raised slightly, attuned to every of movement, ready to spring into action.
The air inside the lab suddenly ruptured with an overwhelming blur as alarms blared to life, an ear-splitting siren in the atmosphere. Red lights flared all around, flashing in rapid succession, casting a frantic glow that moved erratically across the scientists' faces, now expressions of confusion and fear. The straightforwardness of their procedures was abruptly halted, hands dropping equipment and eyes darting toward the reinforced doors as an urgent commotion started from outside. The heavy thump of boots resonated through the sterile corridors, building an unexplainable sense of dread.
Without warning, the enormous reinforced doors buckled under a powerful impact. The panels splintered, metal screeching in protest as they were effortlessly thrown aside, revealing a figure poised against the background of swirling smoke and flickering red lights. He emerged through the chaos, majestic yet foreboding. Dante's stark white cape billowed behind him as he almost leisurely glanced around.
The scientists instinctively fell into a hush, a stunned silence washing over the group, their gazes latching toward the intimidating form. The atmosphere thickened, ready to snap at any moment. Amongst them stood Professor Monroe, his heart hammering wildly against his ribs as his eyes widened in recognition. Immediately, a chill coiled around his spine, something akin to cold fingers of dread creeping through him, constricting his throat. He knew all too well who this figure was; he knew of the numerous reports.
Countless Vel'ryr outposts destroyed; no, annihilated was the right word. Magitech torn apart as if they were mere toys. No mercy even shown to Vel'ryr troops; single impacts shattered bones and armor. A man said to be a monster as vicious as Selwyn Von Auerswald, a monster of pure might, a simple monster. He of great power, Dante the Inheritor of strength.
Every fiber of Professor Monroe's being reacted from a primal urge to flee, yet fear pinned him in place, turning him into a statue. His mind raced as he recalled the hushed discussions among his colleagues about a being with such absurd strength—an unmatched force reputed to possess an uncanny ability to overcome absurd odds with even more absurd physical might and someone who had shattered entire armies for the sake of his nation. He could remember his own words in disbelief, "Power like that? Ha! Unreal, that's hardly possible," but now despite that fear crept in.
The guards scrambled, their formations fracturing, rifles trembling in their grasp. Professor Kessler, shaking off his initial surprise, took a step forward, attempting to assert authority. "You have no business here!" he demanded, voice loud yet wavering. "We're conducting valuable research!"
With an unnerving slowness, Dante lifted his helmeted head slightly, tilting it as though scanning each member of the trembling assembly before resting his inscrutable gaze on Professor Kessler. Although the helmet obscured his face, a feeling of intense scrutiny emanated from him.
"Since Aegraxes remains hidden, I've come for the Nihil," his voice emerged, deep and resonant, echoing. Professor Monroe felt as if the ground at his feet might very well swallow him whole, drowning any sluggish resolve left within him.
Professor Kessler maintained his bravado, though a flicker of apprehension moved behind his eyes. "That armor, I know of you! You're that Inheritor of Verdantis; do you know what your actions can cause here!? And that blade is too powerful for someone like you," he countered weakly, desperation leaking into his tone. "Leave lest there be war!"
A moment of silence stretched, and then the Dante merely shook his head. "Nihil originally belonged to the nation of Galadriel. The Chaosmaw's, allies of yours stole it, hence breaching the peace treaty the three main nations established," he stated, his tone as blank as the white walls around him. "And the nation of Vel'ryr also breached the peace treaty between Verdantis and it. The establishment of illegal outposts and the invading of the city Emberreach. I am within my right to execute a rebuttal."
He stepped forward, his presence erupting into the lab like a storm, and the scientists instinctively recoiled. In a flash, Professor Monroe's instincts roared to life, propelling him backward, a mind racing desperately to devise a plan of escape.
As the guards, now visibly rattled, began to form a defensive line, their rifles raised in unison, Professor Kessler shouted, "Don't shoot! He—"but his warning was swallowed as the twelve guards already snapped into action; they aimed their rifles with good precision, each weapon full of energy.
In synchronized unison, the guards squeezed the triggers, and the lab ignited as bolts of vivid energy shot forth. The bolts crackled through the air, zipping toward Dante in a clear display of speed. Yet as the energy projectiles hurtled through space in an array of colors, Dante remained eerily still.
In an instant, he flickered—the air around him bending momentarily as if reality itself struggled to contain him. Then, in a spectacular blur, he vanished. The guards blinked in confusion, rifles still raised, eyes desperately scanning the area, muscles tensed and coiled as they tried to anticipate a counterattack. When a split second passed and their target did not appear, panic surged through their ranks.
Suddenly, Dante reappeared amid the guards with blinding speed. The first guard, a towering figure equipped with a rifle poised for the next shot, barely had time to react as the Dante's fist thundered forward in an arc. The punch landed squarely on the guard's chest, the white gauntlet colliding with resounding force, shattering armor and bone alike in an explosive show of raw power. The guard was propelled backward as if struck by a freight train, crashing into the weapons rack with a loud clatter.
Before the remaining guards could reposition themselves, Dante spun elegantly. He executed a roundhouse kick, his leg extending in a perfect arc that met the next guard at his side—a flash of white against his black. The kick landed with brutal force, connecting with the guard's helmet and shattering it, sending him soaring across the lab, limbs flailing as he struck the ground in an ungainly heap.
The remaining guards reassessed the battlefield. Their fear compelled them to try harder, guns raised high. With a swift pivot, Dante unleashed an elbow strike against a third guard, seamlessly transitioning into a low lunge. The blow landed with bone-crushing impact against the guard's gut, propelling him into the air in a violent arc before he crumpled, gasping for breath on the cold lab floor.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely as he flowed through his movements. He turned to the fourth guard, whose bravado faltered as he stood mere feet from his foe. With a swift movement of his hand, Dante grasped the guard's rifle, using the guard's own momentum against him to swing him around. As he spun, Dante unleashed a backhand strike, the power behind it so extraordinary that it shattered the guard's helmet to pieces, sending him spiraling into a nearby console, sparks exploding in a hail of an electronic blur.
The remaining guards began to scatter, attempting to regroup, but they were overtaken. Spotting a fifth guard attempting to flank him from behind, he executed a flawlessly timed duck, causing the guard's weapon to fire harmlessly over him. With a quick rise, he followed through with an uppercut, the force of which ruptured the guard's defenses, sending him tumbling backward in a crumpled mass.
Six down, six to go. The remaining guards exchanged frantic glances, adrenaline coursing through their veins, a fire igniting in their instincts as they closed in on their target, forming a makeshift semicircle. They aimed their rifles, hearts hammering as they prepared for another concerted volley.
Yet Dante dashed forward, unrelenting, breaking their formation. The seventh guard, emboldened by the poor fates of his comrades, charged forward, firing rapidly. But with uncanny agility, Dante weaved through the plasma bolts with inhuman swiftness. He reached the guard, an instant before the last shot rang out, delivering a swift knee to the guard's gut. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of him, and before the guard could regain balance, Dante finished the assault with another ill-fated punch, the crack echoing like thunder as the guard crumpled, rendered unconscious.
Now only five remained, their will to fight wavering. "For your benefit I am holding back. There is no shame in giving up or retreating." He turned sharply as he was met with unsure silence; the guards did not seem to want to accept the offer. They were loyal, if anything; he would give them that. He pulled the attention of the eighth guard standing directly behind him. The guard aimed his rifle, trembling slightly, but Dante effortlessly sidesteeped the bolt of light that erupted toward him, punctuating this evasion with another elbow strike that found its mark upon the guard's collarbone, echoing through the lab as the guard fell in an agonized heap.
With only four left, the remaining guards formed a desperate line, communicating in a frantic hive mind, echoing sentiments coded in terror. They aimed their rifles simultaneously yet again, and he exploded into motion. Dante surged forward like a bolt of lightning, propelling himself into the air in a leap, his cape billowing behind him in a dramatic flourish. He landed in the center of their line, right on cue, and with a swift spin, he unleashed a roundhouse kick in a circular arc. The kick connected with two guards at once, the dual impacts leaving them staggering, crashing together with a loud thud. They collapsed to the floor, rendered unconscious.
Now only two remained, who stood frozen in shock as Dante faced them, the white armor gleaming menacingly. The remaining guards looked at each other, clear recognition dawning; they had every reason to engage this entity, yet their hearts cried out in self-preservation despite loyalty. Realizing they were in reality mere pawns, they bolted toward opposite ends of the lab, the terror of human instinct overriding any semblance of loyalty.
Dante lunged toward the nearest guard, intercepting him with a blinding speed that defied conventional perception. The guard barely had time to process the shift in momentum before his fist slammed into him with visceral force, a single strike that knocked him out cold before his body could even react.
Turning effortlessly to confront the last, Dante advanced, his movements exuding an odd elegance. The guard, now trembling at the end of the lab, raised his rifle, the focus pouring back into his gaze. The guard, frozen in fear, attempted to pull the trigger, but Dante dashed forward, unleashing a palm strike to the guard's chest—yet again grounding the power of his strength.
The final force propelled the guard backward like a ragdoll, slamming violently against the reinforced wall, the impact echoing like the clap of thunder, before he slumped to the ground, utterly defeated. The energy in the room slowly dissipated, the ringing of alarms fading into the background as the silence settled. It was within this suspended state that the ground began to tremble—a rhythmic vibration slowly encroaching upon the aftermath of destruction. Heavy footsteps reverberated, announcing the arrival of something big.
From beyond the shattered entrance, whirling mechanisms and grinding metal heralded the entrance of two imposing mechanical monstrosities that suddenly burst into the lab. The first was a towering humanoid mech, its stature dwarfing the remnants of the guards scattered across the floor. Standing at over thirty feet tall, glinting surfaces made from a blend of reinforced alloys gave it an armored exterior that shimmered in hues of gunmetal gray and obsidian black. Flanking its limbs were rotating gun turrets, each mounted strategically on massive shoulders, encasing arms reinforced with thick plating. The wrists and forearms bore a display of weaponry: missile launchers, flamethrowers, and retractable blades that seemed sharp enough to cut any tough alloy.
The mech's head was a unique display, with a segmented cranial structure that allowed for a full 360-degree rotational view—the eyes, glowing red lenses, fixated on Dante, storing every movement in their calculations. Massive guns protruded from its chest, retractable shields folded tightly against its body, ready to deploy at a moment's notice while its rear was equipped with stabilizing thrusters that promised dizzying speeds upon engagement.
In contrast, the second monstrosity resembled a spider, its many legs unfurling as it emerged from the threshold, each limb articulated with clear dexterity. The mechanical arachnid boasted sleek lines and an aerodynamic design. Each leg was constructed of segmented carbon fiber, enhanced with high-tensile strength metal that resembled the pattern of a spider's web. It was equipped with an array of built-in weaponry along its legs—lasers, flame emitters, and retractable razor-edge blades capable of slicing through metal as easily as silk. From which numerous technological appendages protruded. A central, pulsating power core was encased within a glass-like orb that emitted a faint glow. Attached to the central orb were various instrumentation ports—seeking sensors, targeting systems, and devices designed for maximum devastation. Its eight limbs, poised and ready.
Dante remained unperturbed; he was undeterred despite that. Then, without warning, the humanoid mech surged forward, its heavy feet pounding across the floor, the ground quaking with each colossal stomp. The fist of the humanoid mech, a massive slab of reinforced metal, cleaved the air as it swung toward Dante with the intent to crush him in one swift stroke. Dante, however, was already moving, his body a blur as he sidestepped the incoming blow, avoiding it easily.
Dante capitalized on the opening, delivering a jump to reach the mech's elevated form. He extended his arm, executing a strike at the mech's armored knee, the blow resonating with a sharp clunk—the impact sufficient to knock it off balance and to destroy the section. Staggering, the humanoid mech stumbled, but its systems quickly recalibrated, preparing to retaliate. Its chest weaponry pivoted, unloading a barrage of bolt rounds at Dante.
With absurd speed, Dante dived beneath the barrage; it swept him out of harm's way as he came up to face the mechanized arachnid. The spider had capitalized on the chaos, legs scuttling with blurring speed as it tried to ensnare him with a devastating sweep, its razor-edged limbs whistling through the air. Unfazed, Dante launched backward, easily evading the assault, landing with a graceful flip to regain his stance.
The momentary distraction between the two machines presented an ideal opportunity, and the Dante seized it, a flash of white in motion as he sped towards the spider. He performed a simple leap, nearly vertical as his body twisted midair—a move that drew all attention back to him. His arm curled before extending outward, gathering a tiny bit of strength for an immense strike. He connected with the arachnid's thorax in an exquisite hit, something that felt almost poetic. The impact reverberated through the machinery, and the spider staggered backward, reeling from the blow, its servos whirring in a high-pitched whine as its balance compromised.
Before the arachnid could recover, he spun low, delivering a kick to one of the spider's jointed legs. The blow generated a resounding crunch as it buckled, hydraulic fluid spraying in an unexpected burst, causing the whole structure to lurch leftward. Then, with a fluid motion, he locked his leg around a segment of the arachnid's limb and propelled himself upwards, using the momentum of the untouched legs to spring off into a leap that arched toward the humanoid mech.
As he soared through the air, the humanoid mech had projected its gun turrets towards him, seeking to predict his movement, readying itself for twin volleys. Anticipating the angles of attack, Dante tilted his body midair; he landed squarely on the mech's shoulder, the point of balance shifting as he quickly spun in place, delivering a thrumming elbow strike to the mechanism's cranial structure, the impact resounding like a bell tolling and causing its targeting systems to flicker.
As its vision waned, Dante leaped off its shoulder, vaulting over its tall height. Meanwhile, the arachnid—now partially compromised but fueled by its programming—reacted quickly, attempting to ensnare Dante with a flurry of its remaining legs. In a seamless motion, he turned in midair, legs flying out as he nimbly struck against two of its appendages in rapid succession, snapping off the razor-tipped joints as though they were twigs.
Landing at a strategic angle, his foot touched the ground just as the humanoid mech sought to regain its composure, rotating its turret toward him once more, systems clicking into place. In a feat of speed that seemed almost unreal, Dante launched himself back into action, lowering his center of gravity and executing a kick toward the mech's exposed knee joint. The bones—metaphorically speaking—crunched under the force, sending turbulent vibrations echoing throughout the structure, while the hum of the mech's engines sputtered.
Now off-balance, the humanoid mech swayed. Dante drove his fist into the core, cracking its surface with a resonating shatter. Sparks erupted in a tempest of violet energy that illuminated the lab momentarily. The magitech emitted a resounding whir, then collapsed, unnaturally toppling to the ground and finally silencing.
Meanwhile, the arachnid, now a cornered beast, scuttled back in a frenzied retreat, its remnants struggling to maintain stability. The remaining legs flailed, attempting to secure an escape, but Dante lunged forward. He spun, fist outstretched, echoing the rigorous motions as he targeted the body.
He surged toward it, launching a lethal punch that collided with such force it ruptured the hearty casing, a flurry of shockwaves detonating from the point of impact. The explosion echoed, rippling through the mechanical spider—its legs collapsed in a flurry of metal, crumpling in a heap upon the floor as its systems fizzled out in a shower of sparks.
It would have been easier just to use more strength to crush the two magitech weaponry with a single strike. However that would have caused too much environmental destruction, something Dante would have liked to avoid hence he held back considerably.
The scientist looked at the scene with mouths agape, Professor Kessler befuddled most, ("T-those were some of our highest grade of Magitech. Shock absorption, advanced adaptability, mana cores, and advanced AI. They're built to even withstand attacks that would wipe out cities!")
Dante took a moment to scan his surroundings. His white armor reflected the dying red and blue lights still flickering from the various consoles as he approached the core of the lab, where a malevolent aura pulsed with palpable mana—the blade, Nihil.
Nihil, nestled in the center of a circular pedestal, was less an object and more an entity unto itself. The blade shimmered darkly, swirling with a deep, intoxicating mana, as though it were a living thing breathing in sync with reality.
As he approached, the remaining scientists, shaken yet emboldened, gradually pulled themselves together, instinctively backing away from him who had decimated everything they'd built. Their bulging eyes bore into him with a mixture of fear and defiance. One scientist, his voice trembling yet resolute, stepped forward, pointing an unsteady finger at Dante. "You will not get away with this! Do you hear me? This cannot stand!" The desperate proclamation hung thick in the air, echoing.
Dante merely ignored the scientist as he focused on the blade, ("Equivalent exchange. The Divine Blade Nihil, it is said, without Astrea's anchors around the realm, the blade would be able to bring about destruction to the universe. Aegraxes must plan to use this somehow to kickstart the first calamity. But there is more to it; there is no reason to wait so long. Unless the festival plays a part as well, he's made an effort to gain powerful allies for Vel'ryr. But with wildcards such as Mikoto Yukio, he cannot be that sure of his own victory.") Dante reached out to grab the blade.
But before he could, a massive circular glyph materialized beneath his feet—an detailed sigil dripping with mana that pulsed, shimmering in vibrant blues and violets against the floor's surface. The sound of shifting metal mixed in as the glyph began to draw in the ambient light, swirling like a vortex, before any protest could leave the lips of the onlookers—before they could grasp what was happening—Dante was swallowed into the vortex, a blinding wash of light consuming him entirely.
With a fierce whoosh and a blinding flash, Dante was propelled through the ether, his mind almost serene at the complete disregard for the outcry left behind. The fabric of reality twisted around him, colors and shapes bending and blending into a new picture as he hurtled through space.
Then, with a sudden rupture, he emerged into the open air, his body plunging downward through a vast, desolate wasteland that stretched below him, an arid expanse dotted with jagged rock formations, cracked earth, and the remnants of a familiar battlefield.
As he plummeted, the rush of wind whipped around him; he remained calm, the boredom of the mundane contrasting the impending impact. It was that dispassionate nonchalance that allowed him to adapt to the fall, his body naturally adjusting to the adjustment in gravity, arms outstretched, a perfect arrow slicing through the air.
Suddenly, a shadow darted across the sky with absurd velocity. A figure—a streak of powerful mana—rocketed toward him through the thin air, a projectile ignited by an absurd force. He could feel the rush of wind intensify as the figure neared. The unmistakable sound of a sonic boom engulfed the atmosphere.
As the figure collided with him like a comet crashing to the ground, the force of the impact reverberated through the air, creating a shockwave that blasted outward, setting off a violent blur of dust and debris that swept across the barren landscape below. The incredible force sent Dante crashing down toward the ground, but as the dust cleared, he remained unscathed. He glanced off to the side, his expression still locked behind his helmet, as though he'd merely brushed against a breeze.
He glanced at the one responsible.