The Tower of Limbo – Collapse
The Tower was dying.
Every wall screamed.
The crimson veins that once pulsed with unholy life now burst open, spilling molten light into the air. The floor cracked beneath Dante and Elsa's feet, splitting apart like broken glass.
Chunks of the ceiling crashed down in waves of dust and flame.
Dante glanced upward, brushing a smear of ash from his cheek.
"Guess we overstayed our welcome."
Elsa shot him a sharp look. "You think?"
Before he could reply, the floor beneath them gave way.
They fell—stone and fire collapsing into the void below—until the air thickened with heat and the impact came like a thunderclap. They landed hard, rolling across twisted metal and scorched stone.
When the smoke cleared, Dante pushed himself up, coughing through the dust. Elsa groaned beside him, brushing debris from her coat.
Then she saw what they'd landed on.
The Bloodhound.
Their armored vehicle—half-buried in rubble, its metal frame dented but still intact.
Dante looked at it, then at her—grinning through the blood and soot.
Elsa stared back, eyes wide in disbelief.
"You have got to be kidding me," she said flatly.
He shrugged, wiping his chin. "Hey, saves us the walk."
She glared, half-horror, half-exasperation. "You're impossible."
He tilted his head, that familiar grin curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah, but you found me handsome enough to kiss me."
Elsa's glare sharpened, but a faint flush touched her cheeks.
"Don't push it, Sparda."
He chuckled. "Too late."
Before she could retort, another tremor shook the chamber. The Tower's bones were giving out, the light draining from its veins. Dante turned, his expression softening as his gaze fell on the altar—the place where Father Matteo had fallen.
The rosary still hung there, half-buried in ash, glowing faintly gold against the ruin.
He crossed the floor, each step echoing through the collapsing chamber. Gently, he pulled the chain free from the stone. The beads were cracked and scorched—but they still pulsed with that same warm light.
Dante turned it over in his hand, remembering the priest's last words:
Devil and man, blood and heart… together, they'll make you stronger than either alone.
He slipped the rosary into his coat pocket, whispering, "I won't forget."
Behind him, Elsa called out, "Dante! We need to move before this place buries us!"
Dante turned from the ruined altar, the rosary's faint light glimmering against the firelight.
Another quake rattled the chamber—louder this time, like the Tower was taking its final breath.
"Time's up!" Elsa shouted, climbing into the Bloodhound's driver's seat. The dashboard flickered alive, alarms wailing in protest.
Dante vaulted into the passenger side just as the ceiling collapsed behind him.
"Go, go, go!"
Elsa slammed the throttle. The Bloodhound roared forward, tires spitting sparks as it tore through the crumbling corridor. Fire and debris rained around them; whole sections of wall folded inward, crushed under their own weight.
Dante leaned out the window, firing Ivory at falling rubble.
"Who needs stairs when you've got horsepower?"
Elsa gritted her teeth. "Next time, I'm leaving you behind!"
They burst through a collapsing archway into a tunnel of molten light—the Tower's throat. The path tilted upward at a dizzying angle.
"Hold on!" Elsa gunned it harder.
The Bloodhound climbed the burning slope, dodging cascades of debris. Dante drew Ebony, blasting loose chunks aside, grinning despite the chaos.
"Now this is my kind of Sunday drive!"
A massive fissure opened ahead, spilling green fire across the road. Elsa didn't slow down. She shifted gears, slammed the pedal, and shouted, "Jump!"
The van hit the edge—and soared.
For one heartbeat, they hung suspended in the storm. The Tower split open beneath them, green fire clawing toward the sky.
Then gravity returned.
The Bloodhound crashed through the Tower's outer wall and erupted into open air—falling alongside boulders of molten stone as the spire imploded behind them. Elsa fought the wheel; Dante braced against the dashboard, both yelling over the roar.
The van hit the river hard, vanishing under a geyser of steam.
Silence.
Then the Bloodhound bobbed back to the surface, dented, smoking, but alive.
Inside, Dante coughed water and laughter at once.
"You—you actually stuck the landing!"
Elsa wiped soot from her face, panting.
"Remind me to kill you when we get to shore."
Later – Riverside Docks
They sat on the cracked pavement, the Bloodhound steaming behind them, dawn breaking over Manhattan's drowned skyline. The Tower was gone—only drifting embers where it had stood.
For the first time in days, the city was quiet.
Elsa leaned on her knees, staring at the rising sun. "It's over," she said softly. "At least, this part."
Dante stretched, wincing at the bruises. "Yeah. But Hell's still out there. Bet on it."
She looked at him, half-smirk, half-sigh. "And you're planning to go looking for it, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "Somebody's gotta clean up the mess. Might as well look good doing it."
He reached into his coat, pulling out the rosary. The light flickered once, catching the dawn. Matteo's words echoed again—blood and heart together.
"Guess I owe the old man a name," he murmured.
Elsa arched a brow. "A name?"
He grinned, cocky again. "For the business. Demon hunting, exorcisms, monster-of-the-week kind of thing."
She folded her arms. "You're serious."
"Completely." He holstered Ebony and Ivory with a flourish. "Thinking of calling it…"
He paused for effect, smirk widening. "…Devil May Cry."
Elsa blinked, incredulous. "You're naming it after that bar you said you'd open if the hunting didn't work out?"
"Exactly," he said. "Figure I'll save time and disappointment."
She stared for a beat, then shook her head, laughing under her breath. "You're unbelievable."
"C'mon," he teased. "You in?"
Elsa looked back at the sunrise, the wind carrying the last traces of ash across the river. Then she holstered her pistol, lips curving into a faint, defiant smile.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I'm in."
Dante stood, offering a hand. "Then let's get to work, partner."
She took it.
Behind them, the Bloodhound's engine sputtered back to life. Ahead, New York woke to another day—sirens, sunlight, and the faint echo of something monstrous fading into the distance.
For a moment, it felt like peace.
Then the air rippled.
A small, crimson portal flickered open before them—unstable, sparking like a tear in space. From it crawled a winged imp, leathery skin slick with molten tar. It grinned wide, eyes burning like coals.
Its voice wasn't its own.
It carried the smooth, cruel tone of someone far older.
"Dante, son of Sparda… you may have won the fight," the imp sneered, every word dripping with Mephisto's venom, "but you've already lost the battle. The walls are crumbling… and there's nothing you can do about it."
The portal behind it pulsed wider, warping the air. Dozens more circles of infernal light snapped open across the dock—each one belching flame and shadow. The shapes that stepped through were twisted: horned silhouettes, crawling horrors, and flying devils blotting out the sky.
Elsa's launcher clicked open with a metallic snap as she stepped beside him.
"You had to jinx it," she muttered.
Dante's smirk returned, all fire and confidence. He drew Ebony and Ivory in one smooth motion, spinning them before leveling both barrels ahead.
"Jinx?" he said, cocking one pistol. "Nah…"
He shifted his stance, one foot forward, coat flaring in the wind. The morning light caught the steel of his guns, the rosary in his pocket pulsing faintly gold.
Elsa braced behind him, rocket launcher aimed high.
Dante's grin widened.
"Jackpot."
The devils screamed.
The air erupted with gunfire and thunder.