The Tower of Limbo – Upper Levels
The climb was endless.
Each floor she cleared reshaped itself again—bridges folding, walls bleeding light, staircases twisting into nowhere. The Tower didn't just move; it tested.
Elsa reloaded her shotgun, smoke curling from the barrel. The echo of her last shot still hung in the air, mingling with the smell of sulfur.
Her coat was torn. Her hair clung to her face with sweat and ash. But her eyes—sharp, cold, focused—never wavered.
"Keep moving," she muttered. "You've fought worse."
She passed through a shattered chamber, its ceiling cracked open to the storm of crimson lightning above. The air hummed with static, and from the far wall, something crawled out—a mass of bone and shadow dragging a dozen screaming faces.
Elsa sighed, checking the chamber of her revolver. "Of course."
The fight was quick, brutal, and loud. She ducked a strike, fired point-blank, then used her grappling hook to swing up to a ledge. A kick, a blast, a flick of her knife—and the thing collapsed in on itself, dissolving into black ash that the Tower eagerly drank.
She didn't stop to watch it fade. There was no time.
Every step higher made her feel it more—the hum under her skin, the pull of her bloodline. The whispers came again, closer now, like they were breathing down her neck.
"You can't deny what you are, Elsa…"
"You wear my name. You carry my blood."
Her father's voice. Calm. Cold. Commanding.
Elsa clenched her jaw. "Not listening."
The Tower answered with a tremor. The floor beneath her boots cracked.
"Dammit—"
The entire section gave way. Stone and chains tore free, the world collapsing in a roar of fire and smoke.
Elsa reached out, her grappling hook shooting upward—it caught for a second, then snapped loose, sending her tumbling into the open void. The crimson glow of the Tower spiraled around her like a vortex.
Wind howled in her ears. Firelight flashed across her face. She tried to brace for impact—
And then strong hands caught her midair.
She hit something solid—not the ground, but someone. Her eyes flew open.
Dante hung from a chain, one arm looped through it, the other wrapped around her waist. His grin was pure trouble, his coat tattered, his new gauntlets glowing faintly in the heat.
"Hey there, Red," he said, voice casual over the chaos. "Didn't know the forecast called for beautiful women falling from the sky today."
Elsa blinked, stunned—half from adrenaline, half from the absurdity. "You're insane."
"Probably," he said with a wink. "But you look better than the last thing that fell on me. That one was on fire."
She scowled, trying not to smirk. "Put me down."
He looked down—hundreds of feet of molten light and spinning debris below them—then back at her. "You sure about that?"
Before she could answer, the chain jerked, snapping loose. Dante twisted, catching another line and swinging them both toward a nearby platform. They hit hard, rolled, and came up in a heap.
Elsa shoved him off and got to her feet first, brushing ash from her coat. "You took your time."
Dante stood, cracking his neck, flames still faintly flickering around his fists. "Had to punch my way through a welcoming committee. Real hotheads."
She eyed the gauntlets, narrowing her gaze. "New toys?"
He flexed, grinning. "Yeah. The locals said I had potential."
"Wonderful," she muttered. "Now you're fireproof and cocky."
"Wouldn't want to disappoint," he said, twirling one pistol and holstering it with a spin.
They stared at each other for a beat—the Tower humming beneath their feet, the glow of molten light flickering between them. For the first time since entering this nightmare, Elsa didn't feel entirely alone.
She broke the silence first. "We still have a job to do. Let's move."
Dante's grin softened, just slightly. "After you, sweetheart."
She shot him a look. "Call me that again, and I'll throw you off the bridge myself."
"Noted," he said, smirk firmly back in place.
The Tower of Limbo – Chamber of the Bloodgem
The path twisted open like a wound.
Veins of red light pulsed through the floor, spreading up the walls in rhythmic waves—a heartbeat too strong to belong to anything human.
Elsa and Dante entered the chamber, weapons drawn.
At its center hung a massive crimson crystal—the Bloodgem—suspended in a web of black chains. It throbbed with light, each pulse shaking the air.
Elsa froze mid-step. "The Bloodgem…" she whispered, voice cracking with disbelief. "He finished it."
Before Dante could reply, the chains rattled. A figure emerged from behind the gem—tall, regal, half-consumed by corruption. His skin was streaked with glowing veins, crystal branching from his chest like a parasite taking root.
Ulysses Bloodstone.
His eyes burned faintly red. When he spoke, his voice carried two tones—his own and something darker behind it.
"So the Tower wasn't lying. Sparda's blood still breathes."
He studied Dante slowly, like a hunter appraising his kill.
"How amusing. You don't even know what you are, do you?"
Dante twirled Rebellion once, stepping forward with that familiar half-grin. "Not sure I care what you think I am, popsicle. You got something to say, or are you just here to stare?"
Ulysses smirked faintly. "Arrogant. Just like your father. He thought rebellion made him strong—and it cost him everything. You carry his blood, boy. But no wisdom."
Dante's grin sharpened. "Yeah, well, you talk too much."
He moved—in an instant, Rebellion flared, steel striking sparks against stone as he closed the distance. The blade came down hard, a full-force swing aimed for Ulysses's chest.
The older man caught it bare-handed.
The air cracked. Fire from Ifrit rolled down Rebellion's edge, but the gem pulsing in Ulysses's chest absorbed the heat. His palm smoked but didn't burn.
"You think you can cut what made your kind possible?" he said, voice dark with contempt.
He shoved Dante back—hard—sending him sliding across the molten floor.
Elsa raised her pistol, unloading a volley of silver rounds into Ulysses's flank. The bullets sparked off his crystalline skin and dissolved midair.
"Elsa," he said, turning his gaze on her, "still aiming at things you'll never understand."
She fired again, teeth clenched. "I understand you need to die."
"Such venom." His tone was almost fatherly. "Didn't I teach you better than this?"
He raised his hand, and one of the hanging chains whipped free, snaring her wrist. She was yanked off her feet, pistol torn from her grip.
Dante growled, flames flaring along his arms. "Let her go!"
"Defending her?" Ulysses tilted his head. "How noble—and how human. Sparda would laugh at your restraint."
Dante dashed forward, vaulting off a shattered pillar, Ifrit blazing. His first punch landed, cracking through Ulysses's shoulder with a burst of flame—molten fragments scattered, sizzling.
Ulysses staggered but didn't fall. The Bloodgem's glow deepened, tendrils of red light crawling across his body.
"Good," he hissed. "Show me what's in that blood!"
He countered, faster than Dante expected—a burst of corrupted energy slammed into him, hurling him back. Dante hit the ground hard, rolled, and came up firing Ebony and Ivory, emptying both barrels in rhythm.
Each bullet hit like thunder, ricocheting off crystalline shards, breaking chunks loose.
Ulysses didn't flinch. He absorbed the energy—and smiled.
"You fight like a man who doesn't know what he is."
He raised his hand; the gem pulsed. "Allow me to enlighten you."
A bolt of crimson energy struck Dante square in the chest, lifting him off his feet. Blood sprayed across the stone, glowing faintly as the Tower absorbed it through the cracks.
Elsa screamed his name, struggling against the chains.
Ulysses turned toward her, his voice lowering to something colder. "You disappoint me most of all, my dear. You were supposed to finish what I began—not drag my legacy through the mud with sentiment."
She spat blood, eyes burning. "You stopped being my father the moment you became that thing."
For the briefest second, something human flickered in his gaze—sorrow, maybe—before the gem pulsed again, and the voice behind him whispered:
"…Enough. Collect the blood. Leave them broken."
Ulysses's hand rose—the Bloodgem flared—and a wave of crimson force erupted from him, hurling Dante and Elsa in opposite directions.
The world went white with heat and sound.
When it cleared, Ulysses was gone—pulled back into the Tower's veins, his voice fading into static whispers.
Dante groaned, rolling onto his knees, one hand pressed to his chest. "Yeah…" he muttered, "definitely family issues."
Elsa struggled to her feet, clutching her bruised arm. "That wasn't him. Not anymore."
Dante stood, cracked his neck, and sheathed Rebellion with a flick. "Doesn't matter. We're putting him down."
Elsa's eyes met his—anger, grief, and resolve all burning together. "For once," she said quietly, "we agree."
The Tower rumbled around them, the veins pulsing brighter. Above, the Bloodgem throbbed like a heartbeat waiting for the next drop of blood.
Dante looked up at it, fire reflecting in his eyes. "Then let's go beat your old man before he gets any more ideas."
They moved together, ascending the shifting stairwell as the Tower's laughter followed them upward.