[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
"Hmph."
The sound was low as Dante flicked his gauntleted hand to the side. Blood struck the grass in dark spatters, stark against the dullness. The section of plains he stood in was partially wooded, tall trees casting shadows across the landscape.
And the bodies—nearly two dozen—were left scattered.
Some lay twisted grotesquely, limbs bent backward, bones jutting through skin as though trying to escape their own flesh. Others had their chests caved in as if something had crushed them inward with a single merciless blow. A few had collided with the trees so violently that the bark was splashed with red and grey, their bodies slumped or spread across trunks in ruinous angles. All dressed the same as the two cultists who had ambushed him earlier.
Dante's boots stepped through grass darkening with blood.
From behind a fallen trunk came a sound—wet and rasping.
"M… monster…"
