The castle was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of magic coursing through the air. Dante Mortem leaned back on his throne, one leg thrown over the armrest, twirling a goblet of wine in his hand. He wasn't sure if he liked the taste; it always felt a little too bitter for his mood. Not that he would ever admit it. After all, a villain had to look refined, even in his downtime.
The grand hall was a masterpiece of dark architecture, with obsidian pillars reaching up to a ceiling painted to depict various scenes of Dante's supposed atrocities. He'd commissioned it himself, of course, with plenty of embellishments. Half of those massacres had never even happened, but it added to the ambiance.
"Master," croaked a voice from below.
Dante looked down to see one of his minions—a scrawny goblin with an oversized helmet that constantly slipped over his eyes. Groveling, as usual.
"What is it now, Grimble?" Dante sighed, swirling his goblet again.
"There's… there's been an intrusion, Master."
Dante raised an eyebrow. Intrusion? In his castle? That sounded exciting, at least. "Do tell me this isn't another one of those so-called 'heroes' sent by the heavens."
Grimble fidgeted. "Well… it is, Master."
"Wonderful." Dante groaned and stood, stretching lazily. His black cape fluttered behind him as he descended the stairs to where Grimble cowered. "Let me guess. He's righteous, naive, and just brimming with that insufferable divine light nonsense?"
"Yes, Master. He's… um, waiting outside the throne room."
"Waiting?" Dante paused, genuinely confused. "Why isn't he charging in, screaming about justice and vengeance like the last dozen?"
"He… he said he wanted to give you a chance to surrender first," Grimble muttered, clearly embarrassed on behalf of the intruder.
Dante blinked. Then he burst out laughing, a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the hall. Even the torches flickered in response. "Oh, this is rich. Fine. Let him in. Let's see what this paragon of idiocy has to say."
Grimble scurried off, and moments later, the grand doors creaked open. In strode a young man clad in shining armor, a golden sword slung over his back. His blond hair seemed to glow, and his face radiated a nauseating amount of optimism.
"Dante Mortem!" the young man declared, pointing a finger at him. "Your reign of terror ends today!"
Dante applauded sarcastically. "Bravo. Truly. That delivery was almost as wooden as your sword looks."
The intruder faltered but quickly regained his composure. "I am Valen, the Heaven's Destined Child! I have been chosen by the gods to rid the world of your evil!"
Dante stared at him for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at the empty hall as if checking if anyone else had heard that. "Heaven's Destined Child? That's what they're calling you these days? My, how the heavens have lowered their standards."
Valen puffed out his chest. "Mock me all you want, villain. Justice will prevail!"
Dante rolled his eyes. "Right. Let's skip the theatrics. You're here to fight me, yes? To prove you're the chosen one destined to defeat me and save the world?"
"Yes!" Valen said with determination.
"Fantastic." Dante gestured toward a stained-glass window depicting his supposed battle against a dragon. "Let's do it over there. The lighting is better."
Valen hesitated, clearly taken aback by Dante's nonchalant attitude. "You… you're not even going to take me seriously?"
"Why would I?" Dante drawled, walking to the designated spot. "I've seen your type before. Noble. Overconfident. Relying on divine intervention instead of actual skill. Do you know how many of you I've killed?"
Valen gritted his teeth and drew his sword, the blade glowing with holy light. "You won't get the chance to add me to that list!"
The battle began, and to Dante's credit, he gave Valen a fair chance. The young hero swung with fervor, his strikes imbued with celestial energy. Dante, however, dodged with an almost lazy grace, occasionally deflecting the blows with a flick of his wrist.
"Impressive," Dante said after a particularly flashy move. "For someone who's clearly never held a sword before this week."
"I'll show you!" Valen shouted, launching into a reckless flurry of attacks.
Dante yawned, sidestepped, and finally grew bored. With a single well-placed counter, he disarmed Valen, sending the glowing sword clattering to the floor.
Valen stumbled back, wide-eyed. "No… no, this can't be…"
"It can," Dante said, picking up the sword and examining it. "Nice craftsmanship, though. Did the heavens make this for you, or was it one of those back-alley divine blacksmiths?"
Valen fell to his knees. "The prophecy… it said I would defeat you…"
"Oh, the prophecy," Dante muttered, rolling his eyes again. "Let me guess. A vague poem about light overcoming darkness, a chosen savior, yadda yadda yadda?"
Valen nodded weakly.
"Well, here's the thing about prophecies," Dante said, raising the sword. "They're only as good as the people fulfilling them."
With one swift motion, he plunged the blade through Valen's chest. The young man gasped, his glow fading as he crumpled to the ground.
Dante stepped back, wiping his hands theatrically. "And that's why you don't bring a prophecy to a villain fight."
Grimble peeked around the corner, trembling. "M-Master, you… you killed him…"
"Yes, Grimble. That was the point," Dante said, looking at the goblin like he was an idiot.
"But… but he was the Heaven's Destined Child! Doesn't that mean—"
"That the heavens will throw a tantrum? Most likely," Dante interrupted, tossing the golden sword aside. "Let them. I'll deal with whatever they send next. It's not like they can do any worse than this fool."
Grimble nodded nervously, but as Dante turned to leave, the air grew heavy. A low rumble echoed through the castle, and golden light began seeping through the cracks in the walls.
Dante paused, glancing back at Valen's corpse. "Oh, for the love of—what now?"
A booming voice reverberated through the hall, shaking the very foundation of the castle. "DANTE MORTEM! YOU HAVE DISRUPTED THE BALANCE OF FATE!"
Dante sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be one of those days, isn't it?"
The golden light intensified, forming a portal in the middle of the room. Out stepped a celestial enforcer, clad in armor that shimmered like the stars. Behind him, more portals began to open.
Dante smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Well, at least it won't be boring."
The celestial enforcer stood motionless in the golden glow of the portal, radiating an aura of divine authority. His armor gleamed with the light of a thousand stars, and his expression was one of absolute contempt as he fixed his eyes on Dante.
"Dante Mortem," the enforcer intoned, his voice a harmonious blend of wrath and disappointment. "By the decree of the heavens, you are hereby condemned for the murder of Valen, the Heaven's Destined Child, and for upsetting the sacred balance of fate. Your existence is an affront to the divine order."
Dante yawned, leaning casually against one of the obsidian pillars. "Yes, yes, my existence is an affront, my actions are an abomination, blah blah blah. I've heard this song before. Are we going to skip to the part where you fail miserably, or do you need a moment to rehearse your monologue?"
The enforcer's eyes narrowed. He raised his hand, summoning a radiant spear from thin air, its tip pulsating with holy energy. "Mockery will not save you, mortal. Your arrogance ends today."
Dante examined his fingernails, feigning disinterest. "It's always today with you people. Never tomorrow, never next week. Always today. You'd think the heavens could afford some originality."
With a roar, the enforcer lunged forward, his spear thrusting toward Dante with blinding speed. The castle floor cracked beneath his feet as he launched his attack, sending shards of obsidian flying in every direction.
Dante sidestepped with ease, the spear missing him by inches. "Oh, you've got some speed. I'll give you that," he said, twirling out of the way of another strike. "But you lack style. A true villain appreciates the art of theatrics."
The enforcer snarled and unleashed a barrage of attacks, each strike shaking the castle. Dante dodged effortlessly, his movements almost lazy as he wove around the celestial's assault.
Grimble peeked out from behind a pillar, his oversized helmet slipping over his eyes again. "M-Master, do you need assistance?"
"Grimble, if I needed assistance against this sparkly tin can, I'd retire," Dante called back, sidestepping another strike. "Though I do appreciate the thought."
The enforcer growled, his patience wearing thin. He raised his spear high, and a beam of light shot from the heavens, engulfing him in an aura of pure power. His voice boomed, echoing through the hall. "Face the might of celestial wrath, villain! Your time is nigh!"
Dante sighed, rubbing his temples. "Why do they always have to shout? It's like they think volume equals power."
The enforcer slammed his spear into the ground, unleashing a wave of holy energy that surged toward Dante. The wave obliterated everything in its path, shattering pillars and tearing through the castle walls.
Dante raised a hand, and with a casual flick of his wrist, a barrier of dark energy sprang up around him. The wave crashed against it, fizzling out harmlessly.
"Impressive light show," Dante said, lowering the barrier. "I'll admit, you've got the destructive part down. But what's your plan after you wreck my castle? It's not like I don't have insurance."
The enforcer's eyes widened in disbelief. "How… how are you so unaffected?!"
Dante smirked. "Oh, you must be new to this. Let me explain something. I'm not some low-tier villain who crawled out of a swamp. I've been at this for years. Do you know how many so-called chosen ones and divine champions I've sent packing? You're just another name on the list."
The enforcer roared in frustration and charged again, his spear glowing brighter than ever. This time, Dante didn't bother dodging. He caught the spear with one hand, stopping the enforcer in his tracks.
The celestial's jaw dropped. "Impossible…"
"Highly possible," Dante corrected, yanking the spear out of the enforcer's grasp and snapping it in half like a twig. He tossed the broken pieces aside and stepped closer, his crimson eyes glowing with menace. "You see, the heavens made a critical mistake. They underestimated me. Again."
The enforcer stumbled back, fear flickering across his face. "This… this isn't over. The heavens will—"
Dante waved a hand, and a bolt of dark energy struck the enforcer, sending him hurtling through the portal he had come from. The portal flickered and closed, leaving the castle eerily quiet once more.
Dante dusted off his hands and turned to Grimble, who was still trembling behind the pillar. "Well, that was anticlimactic. Remind me to install better security in the castle. These interruptions are becoming tedious."
Grimble nodded vigorously. "Y-yes, Master. Right away, Master."
Dante sighed and walked back to his throne, slumping into it with an air of exasperation. "And now the heavens will send more. Probably something bigger and shinier. They always escalate. It's like they're trying to compensate for something."
As he sipped his wine, a thought occurred to him. He glanced at the prophecy book he had taken from Valen's corpse, lying on a nearby pedestal.
"Maybe I should take a look at this thing," he mused, picking it up. "If the heavens are so obsessed with their prophecies, it might be amusing to see what all the fuss is about."
Opening the book, Dante began to read, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
The prophecy book was a thick, ancient tome, bound in gold-trimmed leather that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the throne room. Dante flipped through the pages, his grin growing wider with each absurdly pompous line he read. The text was written in an elegant script, and every word practically oozed self-importance.
"'When the heavens tremble, and darkness covers the land, a chosen light shall rise to banish the shadows and restore harmony,'" Dante read aloud, snickering. "Oh, give me a break. Who writes this drivel? Do they have a celestial poet working overtime to make it sound profound?"
Grimble, still lurking nervously nearby, poked his head out from behind the shattered pillar. "Uh… Master? What does it say about… uh… the Heaven's Destined Child?"
"Oh, all sorts of nonsense," Dante replied, flipping further into the book. "'He shall be pure of heart, unyielding in courage, and wield the blade of the heavens to vanquish the eternal evil.'" He glanced up at Grimble. "Does that sound like the golden idiot I just skewered? Pure of heart? He looked like he'd cry if someone stepped on a bug."
Grimble nodded quickly, though it was unclear if he was agreeing or just terrified.
Dante continued flipping through the book, pausing when he reached a page adorned with glowing runes. The text shifted before his eyes, rearranging itself into something readable. His grin faltered for a moment as he muttered, "'And should the destined one fall…'" He trailed off, skimming the rest silently. Then he burst out laughing, clutching his sides.
"Oh, this is too good," he said, slamming the book shut with a flourish. "Apparently, if the Heaven's Destined Child dies, the prophecy doesn't end. It just… adapts. The heavens pick a new 'chosen one' and start the whole song and dance over again."
Grimble tilted his head. "So… so they'll send someone else, Master?"
"Exactly," Dante said, tossing the book onto the pedestal. "And then another. And another. It's an endless parade of self-righteous fools, all because the heavens can't handle a little setback."
"But… doesn't that mean more heroes will come after you?" Grimble asked, wringing his hands nervously.
"Of course it does," Dante said, leaning back in his throne. "But that's the best part, Grimble. They're stuck in their own cycle. Every time they send another one, they'll make the same mistakes. They think prophecy guarantees success, but it's just a glorified to-do list for idiots."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Although… it does give me an idea."
Grimble perked up. "An idea, Master?"
"Indeed," Dante said, his crimson eyes gleaming. "If they're so obsessed with this prophecy, why not use it to my advantage? I have the book. I know their plan. I could… fulfill the prophecy myself."
Grimble's jaw dropped. "B-but Master! Isn't that… isn't that what a hero does?"
"Exactly," Dante said with a wicked grin. "And that's what makes it brilliant. If I follow the prophecy, I can control the narrative. Twist it to my will. The heavens won't know what hit them."
Grimble scratched his head, clearly struggling to understand. "But… why would you want to do that?"
"Because, my dear Grimble," Dante said, standing and spreading his arms dramatically, "it's not about being a hero or a villain. It's about power. Influence. If I take over the prophecy, I become the one pulling the strings. The heavens will be dancing to my tune before they even realize it."
Grimble blinked. "You mean… you'd pretend to be a hero?"
"Oh, no," Dante said, shaking his head. "I'd still be a villain, obviously. But a villain who's fulfilling the prophecy? That's a whole new level of chaos. Imagine the confusion. The outrage. The sheer poetic irony."
Grimble hesitated, then gave a small nod. "I… I think I get it, Master. Kind of."
"Good," Dante said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now, fetch me some parchment. If I'm going to embark on this ridiculous endeavor, I'll need to make a list. Prophecies are all about lists, you know. Sacred artifacts to find, ancient evils to vanquish, pointless acts of heroism to perform. It's all very formulaic."
As Grimble scurried off, Dante sat back down, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "This is going to be entertaining," he muttered to himself. "The heavens want a savior? I'll give them one. Just not the kind they were expecting."
The room fell silent again, save for the faint hum of magic in the air. The shattered remains of the celestial enforcer's portal flickered weakly before fading entirely. Somewhere, far above, the heavens were undoubtedly plotting their next move.
Dante smirked, raising his goblet in a mock toast. "To destiny," he said, taking a sip. "May it always be this deliciously ironic."