The void around them was not empty—it was listening.
After the burning of the cathedral and the breaking of the divine sarcophagus, Selena and Dante were transported to a realm that had no time, no memory, and no mercy. They did not walk here. They simply were—suspended in a space that pulsed with breathless awareness.
It was the Unnamed Realm.
The place where gods discarded their failures.
Where monsters learned they were not made, but born.
Selena held Dante's hand tighter. Her skin still glowed faintly from the mark carved into her chest—the seal of divine vow. But here, even its light felt muted. She wasn't afraid. Not anymore. She was becoming.
Dante's flames had dimmed after the confrontation with Seraphim Ardent, but his presence remained solid. His eyes scanned the black mist swirling around them. The throne at the heart of this realm pulsed like a heart that should've stopped beating eons ago.
"It's waiting for us," Selena whispered.
