In a pitch-black world, two streaks of light clashed and split apart in an instant.
Realizing Mundus couldn't be taken down the usual way, Dante had half a mind to bail and go hunt Nana instead. But in the end, he was stuck here, locked in a pointless slugfest with the Demon Emperor himself.
The longer the fight dragged on, though, the more something felt… off.
Just like before, no matter how much damage Dante dealt to Mundus's body, it patched itself up in seconds. After a few cautious probes, Dante gave up on offense and switched to a defensive game plan.
But if that was the case, why wasn't Mundus coming at him full force? Why was he playing this slow-burn magic-drain game instead?
Dante's demonic energy was running on fumes. He needed a breather, and fast. Sure, he'd always said—and believed—that true strength wasn't just about demonic power, but the human heart. Problem was, even the toughest human heart had its limits.
No matter how ironclad your will, facing an enemy you can't scratch would shake anyone. It'd wear you down, break you apart. Some might say, "Who cares? Real strength overcomes even that!" And yeah, maybe that's true—but it takes time.
In a fight where you don't even get a second to catch your breath, those tiny cracks in your resolve turn into chasms. Like ants burrowing into a dam, they'll tear your will to pieces.
Dante was teetering on that edge right now.
He'd lost track of how many times he'd burned through his magic. His stubborn drive to keep fighting had kept him from folding, but even that was starting to flicker.
Dodging a barrage of glowing orbs, Dante closed his eyes for a split second, feeling his heartbeat. A deep breath channeled a surge of magic, restoring maybe a fifth of his reserves.
Then he had to dodge again.
Each time, he recovered less and less. Part of it was him pushing his body past its limits, fishing in a dry pond. The other part? Mundus wasn't giving him a damn moment to rest.
What, is the legendary Dante gonna wipe out here?
The thought wormed its way up from the back of his mind before he shoved it away.
Can't think like that. The second you do, you're done.
He had to think.
Dante grit his teeth, forcing his brain to kick into gear.
He wasn't exactly known for strategizing—hell, even his mom, Eva, used to rib him for swinging his sword faster than his brain could keep up. But right now, he had to think.
Truth be told, if you asked the people around him, they'd probably say Dante wasn't bad at thinking—he just didn't want to. As the son of Sparda, the world's greatest demon hunter, there weren't many problems he couldn't solve with a well-placed bullet or a sword through the skull. When brute force works that well, who needs a brain?
But now, as Dante's mind went still as a frozen lake, he started piecing it together.
Why was Mundus, who couldn't be beaten, dragging this out instead of going for the kill?
Why couldn't Dante land a single meaningful hit?
And why hadn't Nana shown her face since summoning Mundus?
Dante sidestepped a towering beam of light and shouted into the void where Mundus lurked. "Yo! Light beams, lightning, fire rain, meteors… same old tricks, huh? No challenge at all!"
Mundus didn't show himself, but his voice echoed through the dark. "To deal with you, this is more than enough."
Dante wove between two bolts of lightning arcing around the beam, an idea sparking in his head.
Mundus wasn't your average demon. He was a master of humanity's darkest impulses—deception, betrayal, double-dealing. The words coming out of his mouth weren't like the straightforward boasts of some meathead demon obsessed with power.
So what if Mundus wasn't holding back because he didn't want to? What if he couldn't go all out?
But why? What was stopping him?
Dante swung his sword, smacking an incoming orb like a baseball. "Home run!" he yelled, though it was nowhere close to one. He just wanted Mundus's attention.
All those questions? They pointed to one answer.
And it wasn't about Mundus—it was about Nana.
In his Devil Trigger form, Dante flared his wings and charged straight for the source of the beams.
Mundus was summoned through Nana's projection, so his raw power shouldn't have been an issue. But what was wrong with Nana?
Dante burst out laughing as it all clicked.
Gripping his greatsword with what little magic he had left, he lunged for Mundus's head.
"Lost your mind?" Mundus sneered, summoning a swarm of familiars that wove a net of crisscrossing beams around Dante.
This time, Dante didn't dodge. He poured every ounce of his remaining power into a head-on clash with Mundus. The web of beams was like tissue paper—it didn't slow him down for a second as he tore through.
Spinning through the beams, Dante came to a stop, face-to-face with Mundus. A relieved grin spread across his face. "Knew it."
Mundus didn't mock him this time. Instead, he conjured countless glowing eyes that rained down like a meteor shower.
Dante didn't tank them. He pulled back, dodging with nimble flips and twists, then threw a taunt of his own. "Never thought I'd see the day the mighty Demon Emperor had to bluff his way through a fight!"
That was the truth. Mundus was powerful—insanely so—and this was his true consciousness in the flesh. But the body Nana had conjured for him? It had limits.
As a shadow born from Dante's memories, it couldn't handle power beyond what Dante knew Mundus to be capable of. Sure, Dante had beaten Mundus before, shattered his body even, but it was only after that fight he'd grasped just how terrifying the Demon Emperor's full power was.
This fake body couldn't channel the bottomless well of Mundus's true magic. If it tried, it'd probably collapse under the strain.
So this whole time, Mundus had been running a con—a demonic "empty fortress" gambit. Keeping Nana out of the fight to seem untouchable? Check. Passing off his full-power attacks as casual flicks? Check. Constantly belittling Dante to psych him out? Check.
The Demon Emperor had banked on Dante's memory of his overwhelming strength, tricking him into playing it safe and dragging the fight into a war of attrition. But Mundus's attacks were a mix of real and fake. Once Dante saw through the act, he didn't need to sweat them as much.
"Bet that hit I landed earlier was you letting me connect, huh?" Dante said, slinging his sword over his shoulder with a smirk. "After that, you got real cagey with your defenses. Looking back, it's all red flags.
"What, no comeback? Fine…
"Let's go, Round Two!"
(End of Chapter)