Dante stood amidst the roaring crowd, their cheers like a symphony of madness that fueled his dark soul. The taste of victory was sweet, but a gnawing sense of unfinished business lingered. His gaze locked onto the woman on her knees before him, trembling, her eyes wide with fear. The cheers faded into a dull hum as he focused on her, the last loose end that needed to be tied.
Her tear-streaked face looked up at him, her lips quivering as she whispered, "P-Please... spare me."
Dante's lips curled into a slow, sinister grin. Each step he took toward her echoed like a death knell, her pleas growing weaker with every stride. The madness radiated from him, an aura of chaos that made the air around him heavy, suffocating.
He crouched down, his knees bending with a smooth, deliberate motion, his eyes gleaming with a wild, uncontrollable hunger. His hand shot out, gripping her hair and pulling her head back with a force that made her wince. He reveled in the terror that contorted her face, a wild grin breaking out uncontrollably.
"Ugh... p-please, I'm sorry," she whimpered, her voice a broken whisper, choked with sobs.
Dante tilted his head, feigning confusion, as if her pleas were alien to him. Deep inside, he understood perfectly. But the darkness within twisted her words, turning them into nothing more than a pitiful symphony that only fueled his desire for more.
Dante 2, the voice in his head, his fractured psyche, couldn't stay silent any longer. It echoed in his mind, a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control. "THAT'S ENOUGH! DON'T OVERDO IT!"
Dante's grip tightened, his mind resisting the voice, but Dante 2 pressed on. "We don't have to go any further! One life is more than enough!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dante roared, his voice slicing through the eerie silence that had fallen over the arena. The crowd and the woman alike froze, stunned by the sudden outburst. They watched in horror as Dante seemed to argue with the air, his eyes wild and unfocused, lips moving in whispers, "Shut up, shut up, shut up..."
The woman's trembling intensified, her tears flowing freely as Dante's gaze snapped back to her. But before he could act, a calm voice broke through the tension.
"Enough."
Dante's head whipped around to see Derheim, an older man with the air of a seasoned warrior, standing at the edge of the arena. He had entered the match without a sound, his presence a stark contrast to Dante's chaotic energy. Derheim's expression was solemn as he stroked his beard, his aura calm and composed, almost serene.
But to Dante, this calmness was infuriating. It was the exact opposite of the storm raging within him, and it only served to ignite his fury further. The death aura surrounding Dante flared, its darkness clashing with Derheim's calm presence. The tension between the two auras was palpable, like oil and water violently refusing to mix.
"You dare interrupt my fun?" Dante snarled, his voice dripping with venom.
"Fun? You call this madness fun?" Derheim replied, his tone even, unwavering. "You've lost control, boy. It's time to end this."
Dante's eyes narrowed, the fire within them flaring as his madness spiraled out of control. "I don't care what you think. I do what I want, and no one tells me otherwise!"
Without warning, Dante unleashed a torrent of blood magic, the crimson tendrils snaking through the air, crackling with dark energy. They lashed out at Derheim, but the older man raised a hand, a shield of wind magic forming around him, deflecting the attack effortlessly.
"Is that all you've got?" Derheim taunted, his voice calm, infuriatingly so.
Dante's frustration boiled over, his body igniting with flames that danced around him like living entities, merging with the blood magic in a chaotic display of power. The air around him warped with heat, the crowd stepping back in fear as the very ground beneath Dante's feet began to smolder.
"Let's see how calm you are after this!" Dante roared, launching a combined attack of fire and blood magic at Derheim, the sheer force of it shaking the arena.
But Derheim's defense was unyielding. His wind shield held firm, the gusts dispersing the flames and scattering the blood magic as if it were nothing more than dust in the wind. He remained composed, his gaze never wavering from Dante.
"Your power is wild, uncontrolled. You're just a child playing with forces you don't understand," Derheim said, his voice carrying a weight that only years of experience could bring.
Dante's rage intensified, his mind a whirlwind of anger and madness. Dante 2 whispered incessantly in his ear, "He's right, you know. You're losing control... you'll never win like this..."
"SHUT UP!" Dante screamed, his voice echoing through the arena. The crowd looked on in horror as Dante seemed to lose himself completely, his lips moving in a deranged murmur, "Shut up, shut up, shut up..."
He needed to end this, and fast. Derheim was too strong, too calm. Dante knew he couldn't overpower him directly, but maybe... maybe he could outsmart him.
With a sudden burst of speed, Dante launched a frontal attack, his blades clashing against Derheim's shield, sparks flying as the two forces collided. But it was a ruse. As Derheim focused on the frontal assault, two crimson blades of blood magic materialized behind him, slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Derheim's eyes widened in surprise as the blades broke through his shield, but before he could react, Dante was there, his knife pressed against Derheim's neck, a wild grin splitting his face. "Checkmate."
For a moment, the world stood still. The crowd held its breath, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But Derheim's calm didn't falter. With a swift movement, he unleashed a blast of wind magic, knocking Dante back and dispelling the blood blades.
Dante rolled back, his body hitting the ground with a thud. Before he could recover, Derheim's companion, a fierce warrior, appeared out of nowhere, delivering a brutal kick to Dante's head. The world spun as pain exploded in his skull, and darkness quickly followed.
As consciousness slipped away, Dante could hear Dante 2 laughing in the back of his mind. "I told you... I told you this would happen..."
And then, there was nothing.