Dante hit the river like a stone.
The impact ripped the breath from his lungs, the cold shock tearing through his body. For a moment, he was weightless, tossed by the current, dragged beneath the churning depths. The world became a blur of dark water and muffled silence.
Move.
His instincts screamed at him, but his limbs felt sluggish. His body—despite its monstrous strength—was not invincible. His head spun as the current slammed him against submerged rocks, the force knocking loose what little air remained in his chest.
Panic surged. I can't die like this.
His claws scraped against the riverbed. Desperation fueled him as he kicked upward, breaking the surface with a gasping breath.
The river raged around him, its waters swollen from recent storms. He barely had time to orient himself before the current yanked him toward something ahead—a waterfall.
Dante's eyes widened. Shit.
He twisted, forcing his aching limbs to move. His tail—an unfamiliar but useful appendage—helped him steer, but the pull of the falls was relentless.
In the distance, the Hellmaw Stalker bellowed in fury from the cliffs above, unable to pursue. Small victories.
But he wasn't safe yet.
Dante spotted a twisted tree branch jutting from the riverbank. He gritted his teeth, reaching out as he was pulled past—
His claws latched on.
The sudden force nearly tore his arm from its socket, but he held on. The waterfall roared just feet away, a sheer drop into oblivion. One wrong move, and he was gone.
With a growl, he swung his body toward the shore, digging his claws into the mud. His muscles screamed, his vision blurred—but inch by inch, he pulled himself free.
He collapsed on the riverbank, chest heaving. The rush of water filled his ears, but he was alive.
For now.
Marked for Death (secondary)
Dante lay still, staring up at the sickly red sky. His body ached, but something deeper gnawed at him.
That notification from before.
Forsaken One.
Marked by the Abyss—Greater Beasts will seek your death.
His fists clenched.
This world—this cursed world—had already decided his fate. He wasn't meant to survive. He had refused the demonic path, and now, it was hunting him down for it.
And it wouldn't stop.
The Hellmaw Stalker was just the beginning.
Dante gritted his teeth and sat up. He needed a plan. He needed to get stronger—fast. Not through mindless slaughter, not through devouring souls like the monsters of this world, but through his own means.
His eyes drifted to the dense forest beyond the river.
There had to be others out there. Humans. Creatures that weren't mindless killers. Answers.
Dante exhaled and forced himself to his feet. His body protested, but he ignored it. He had no other choice.
Because if this world wanted him dead?
He'd make sure it regretted ever trying.
And so, the Forsaken One walked forward—into the unknown.