The night was drenched in silence.
A cold wind swept through the empty streets, making the lamplight flicker like dying stars. The hour had slipped past one o'clock, the kind of hour when the world feels suspended — neither alive nor dead, just waiting.
Dante walked alone under that pale glow. His breath rose in faint clouds, vanishing into the mist. Hands buried deep in his red anorak pockets, hood drawn low over his face, he looked like a shadow drifting through the rain-polished road. The tap of his sneakers was the only sound that dared to exist.
The first raindrop fell without warning, landing squarely on his hood. Dante lifted his gaze. The clouds above churned like smoke, swallowing the moon whole. Another drop hit, then another. The scent of rain thickened in the air.
"Tch… great," he muttered. His voice sounded small against the vast emptiness.
He picked up his pace, sneakers slapping against the damp pavement. The street stretched endlessly ahead — and then abruptly ended.
There it was.
A gate.
It towered over him, forged from black iron with carvings that twisted like serpents. Beyond it, a faint light shimmered, revealing the outline of a large house — no, a mansion — grand and silent, as though forgotten by time.
For a moment, Dante hesitated. His hand hovered near the gate. He didn't even touch it when—
CLANK.
The gate opened on its own.
The sound echoed through the street, bouncing off invisible walls. Dante froze, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
He stared into the open yard. The mansion beyond looked beautiful — too beautiful. The grass trimmed, the lamps glowing with a soft golden hue. A stillness hung there, unnatural in its perfection.
Something inside him whispered to turn back.
He didn't.
He stepped through.
The instant he crossed the threshold, a sharp gust slammed the gate shut behind him.
BANG!
The noise reverberated through the empty space, loud enough to make his skin crawl. Dante spun around, panic flaring. He grabbed the gate, pulling hard. It didn't move.
"What the hell…?" He yanked again, harder this time. No use. It was like the metal had fused with the ground itself.
A chill crawled down his spine. He was trapped.
He turned toward the mansion. The warm lights that once glowed softly now flickered. For a split second, he thought he saw movement in one of the windows — a silhouette standing perfectly still — then nothing.
His pulse quickened.
"...No big deal," he whispered, forcing a shaky laugh. "Probably just automated gates… fancy tech… right?"
He walked toward the door, each step heavier than the last. The sound of his own breathing filled the air. When he reached the porch, he hesitated only a second before grasping the handle and pushing.
The door swung open easily.
It wasn't locked.
He stepped inside.
The air was warm, scented faintly of polished wood and something older — dust, maybe. The sitting room before him looked pristine: velvet couches, ornate mirrors, chandeliers glittering faintly in the dim light. Every object seemed arranged with purpose, too perfect to be real.
"Everything seems normal," he muttered, scanning the room.
But it didn't.
Something about the silence gnawed at him.
"Hello?" His voice cracked slightly. "Anyone home?"
Only his echo replied, rippling through the house. The sound came back distorted — too slow, too deep — as though the walls themselves were speaking back.
Dante's chest tightened. His legs trembled. He took a step back toward the door.
Then the wind came.
Cold and sudden, brushing against his face like icy fingers. The lights flickered once, twice. His body froze, his mind screaming a single word —
Run.
He didn't question it.
He bolted.
His sneakers thudded across the floor as he sprinted through the hall, out the door, across the yard. The gate loomed ahead. He reached for it — and then the air behind him ripped open.
A sound like tearing fabric, but deeper, heavier — as though space itself had been wounded.
Dante turned just in time to see it.
A portal, swirling black and violet, opened like a yawning mouth. The air vibrated with energy. His skin prickled.
"What the hell is that—"
The pull came instantly. Wind roared, dragging him backward. He dug his heels into the ground, arms flailing, but the force was relentless.
"No—!"
His voice vanished in the chaos as he was sucked into the void. The world stretched, warped — and shattered into darkness.
---
He hit the ground hard.
The air left his lungs in a gasp. He coughed, rolling onto his side, palms scraping against rough stone. The world around him was… gone.
There was no light. No sound. Just darkness — thick and endless.
His breathing quickened. He blinked rapidly, but there was nothing to see.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
The silence swallowed his voice.
Then — a voice answered.
"Welcome."
Dante's head shot up. The sound came from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
"Who's there?" His voice trembled.
A faint echo of laughter rippled through the dark. Not cruel, not kind — simply ancient.
"Finally," the voice said, calm and thunderous. "After so long… I have found the Monarch."
Dante's blood ran cold. "Monarch?" he echoed. "What are you talking about?"
"I see…" The voice deepened, vibrating in the air. "You don't even know who you are."
"Who I am?" Dante's mind spun. "What do you mean?"
"There was a prophecy," the voice said slowly, as though reciting from memory. "A seer once foretold that a boy would be born — a boy destined to rule all realms. Even the Celestial Realm itself."
The words struck him like a blow. Rule all realms? That sounded like madness.
"Why are you telling me this?"
There was no reply to this.
Dante's breath hitched. His heart pounded in his ears. "No… no, that's insane."
"You are far more than you realize."
He tried to stand, but his knees trembled. "Who are you?"
The air shifted. The darkness seemed to breathe.
"I am the god who rules the Dark Realm," the voice said. "And now… you stand on the edge of awakening."
"What… am I?" Dante whispered.
The voice was silent for a moment, then said, "You will know when the time comes."
Light burst from above. The darkness cracked apart like glass.
Dante flinched, covering his eyes. When he looked again, he was standing beneath a blazing sun.
The world around him was a wasteland — vast, empty, lifeless. The ground was cracked like broken skin, the air dry and hot. Not a single sound existed except the wind.
He swallowed hard. "What… is this place?"
Then pain hit him.
A sharp, searing pain that tore through his body like fire.
"Ahhh—!" He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. His body convulsed.
"What's… happening to me!?" he shouted, but no one answered.
Dark smoke began to pour from his skin, thick and writhing. The ground beneath him trembled. He felt something awaken — something vast, monstrous, ancient — and it wasn't entirely human.
The pressure built until his ears rang. His breath came in ragged gasps. His jacket tore open as black markings burned across his leg, winding upward in glowing patterns, curling around his arm.
"Stop—!" he screamed.
But the power didn't stop.
A black wing burst from his back, stretching wide, feathers made of shadow and flame. His right eye turned pitch-black, glowing faintly with a dark aura.
The ground split open beneath him, the cracks spreading like veins. Rocks shattered, dust erupted, and his scream echoed through the barren world.
"Arrrrrghhh!"
The energy exploded outward, swallowing everything in darkness. The sun vanished. The sky folded into itself.
And then… silence.
The wasteland was gone — erased by his own awakening.
---
Somewhere distant, a faint voice broke through the void.
"Dante… wake up."
A whisper. Soft, almost tender.
"Wake up, Dante."