Fear painted both their faces the same deathly pale. Their eyes swept the devastation, hunting for the source of that world-shaking force.
Burning Storm, however, had already pieced together the truth. His expression softened into a smile—but not his usual radiant grin. This one carried the weight of exhaustion and something darker, like watching a storm approach from the horizon.
Dante's face twisted into a grimace at the sight.
"What is that? What have you done?"
His voice dripped accusation. His gaze snapped toward the center where massive stone corpses lay—the Behemoth that his subordinate Niasis had summoned, only to watch it vanish beneath power that defied comprehension.
The mystery gnawed at him. He couldn't identify the force, couldn't even guess at its nature, which left him reeling with confusion. And worse—infinitely worse—was that damned smile on Raizel's face.
Burning Storm's expression held secrets Dante couldn't crack, and it infuriated him.
Paragon Raizel merely shrugged, his soft smile remaining infuriatingly intact.
"What did I do? Nothing at all... I simply brought a friend who might render all your schemes worthless. Oh, and a disciple too, though he's sleeping at the moment. Things will become far more interesting when he wakes. Apparently, you two have already met."
Dante's frown deepened into something ugly.
"If you have time for taking disciples, you must have had plenty to spare. Meanwhile, I've been bleeding sweat for our vision—the same vision we once shared."
His words hung in the air before bitterness overtook him.
"What am I even doing, trying to reason with you? You've chosen your path. Your friend, your disciple—none of it matters. You're all going to die. Every last one of you."
Lieutenant Dante straightened, neck bones popping as he rolled his shoulders. His fist clenched until knuckles went white, then his fingers wrapped around his sword's grip with deadly intent.
He stepped forward, measuring the distance—thirteen meters separated them. Perfect striking range.
Dante's hand moved with deliberate slowness, pushing the black coat from his shoulders. The garment fell like a judgment—when it struck the ground, the impact shattered stone as if woven from lead rather than fabric. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, the earth protesting beneath the weight of something not meant for mortal realms.
Paragon Raizel's eyes tracked the coat's descent, his throat working against a sudden dryness. When he looked back at Dante, understanding dawned cold and terrible.
"You've opened your eyes. Dropped all limits on your speed." His voice carried quiet recognition. "You must be serious about killing me."
He swayed slightly, regarding the sword in his grip as if seeing it for the first time.
"Perhaps conserving my strength against you was folly from the start. This is a fight I must fully embrace."
Melancholy colored each word, bitterness seeping through like blood through bandages. The reality before him was as inevitable as sunset, and just as final.
Burning Storm was accepting what could not be changed. The sorrow of it sat heavy in the air between them.
With quiet resignation, he opened his fingers. The sword slipped free, its fall ending in a metallic whisper as steel kissed stone.
Crimson smoke swirled around Raizel like a living shroud, his eyes igniting with emerald fire that burned cold as winter stars. His skin darkened and expanded, shadows stretching across the ruined land like reaching fingers.
The ground split beneath the assault of two colossal limbs crashing down, debris exploding skyward as Paragon Raizel completed his transformation.
He had become something else entirely—a hulking behemoth that merged primal fury with earthbound power, wrapped in a hide of seething crimson fur that bristled with barely contained rage.
Muscles flowed beneath his thick coat like living geology, each movement carrying the weight of shifting continents. His massive limbs pressed against the earth with inexorable force, pulverizing stone beneath his hooves as if the ground itself recoiled from his presence.
Twin horns spiraled from his skull—jagged as mountain peaks, ancient as erosion itself. They framed a face carved from volcanic rock, all hard edges and deadly intent. Beneath his beetled brow, emerald eyes blazed with intelligence far beyond mere beast—something ancient, bitter, and painfully aware.
Burning Storm's breath came in thunderous snorts that scalded the air around him, each exhale a promise of destruction.
Lieutenant Dante tilted his head back, meeting the ancient gaze without flinching. His lips curved into a half-smile that held no warmth.
"Burning Storm, an Essence Manifestation that truly reflects the man within."
The transformed beast advanced with deliberate slowness, each step of his hooves leaving smoking craters in the earth. Heat radiated from his passage, searing the ground beneath like brands from a hellish forge.
He halted halfway between them, his voice resonating like thunder trapped in stone.
"This is the end for us, Dan..."
Dante's chin lifted in defiance.
"The end, Rai."
They moved as one.
The earth disappeared beneath them as both Paragons launched into battle. They didn't simply disappear—such a mundane word couldn't capture their violent departure from reality. They tore through space itself, leaving only devastation in their wake.
Dante's blade struck first—a comet's tail of obsidian light slicing horizontally with surgical precision. The steel sang through the void where Raizel had been, carving a canyon through stone, air, and the very fabric of physics. Reality screamed at the violation.
Raizel had already circled behind.
His massive hoof crashed downward like judgment itself. Dante contorted, barely escaping the impact that obliterated the landscape below. Molten rock and fire fountained skyward, painting the air with destruction. His abandoned coat whipped through the storm like a phantom.
Each of Raizel's strikes carried mountain-breaking force. His hooves could shatter fortifications, his horns cleave bedrock. Yet Dante—still mortal flesh and bone—met him blow for blow.
The human warrior slipped beneath a devastating sweep, his blade scoring a smoking line across crimson hide. The beast's growl wasn't pain but recognition—a sound that rippled outward, sending distant trees swaying and birds fleeing as mere shadows against the sky.
Raizel's horn jabbed downward like a bolt of divine wrath, and Dante caught it on his blade. Sparks erupted between them—hissing, spitting fury that painted the air with dragon's breath.
The impact catapulted him backward. Dante twisted midair with feline grace, feet finding purchase on a crumbling pillar before he launched himself forward with explosive force.
He became pure speed incarnate.
Dante materialized above Raizel, his blade drinking in the darkness around it, trailing arcs of shadow as it plunged toward the beast's exposed neck. But the massive creature defied his own bulk—pivoting with liquid precision, presenting his shoulder to meet the descending steel.