7 years years.
The Hollow-wood was a place that thrived on the silence of despair.
Fog crept between the gnarled trees, thick as smoke from a thousand funeral pyres. The air was saturated with the stench of decay and the weight of forgotten promises. The woods consumed everything—souls, hopes, dreams—all were swallowed by its blackened heart.
Dante moved through the mist like a shadow, his cloak a flowing dark streak against the oppressive gloom. His violet eyes gleamed with a cold fire, unblinking, unfeeling. The staff in his hand—the weapon of his father, Cendre—throbbed with energy, ancient and untamed, the runes along its length glowing faintly.
[Ding]
[System Online]
[Welcome, host]
[Phase One: Consume the core of a cursed beast]
Dante paused for a moment, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. The System spoke of a presence nearby—a D ranked one. A rare find in these lands.
A child's cry cut through the air, faint, broken, a desperate plea for help.
It wasn't fear that drove Dante's steps, but calculation. The girl was weak, insignificant—perhaps, just another casualty in the game of gods and monsters. Yet, there was something to be gained from her. Something useful.
He found her nestled against the base of a twisted tree, her small form trembling, blood staining the hem of her tattered dress. Her wide eyes locked onto his, pleading.
"P-Please… help me…" she whimpered, her voice cracked with the weight of untold terror. "My village… they burned it… I don't want to die… Please…"
Dante studied her—so fragile, so desperate. The pitiful pleading, the innocence in her eyes. It meant nothing to him. He wasn't here to offer salvation. He was here to feed.
[Ding]
[High-Purity Soul Detected]
[Conversation Potential: 127%]
[Warning: Subject classified as "Innocent."]
[Emotional interference: 0%]
Her soul shimmered with an unnatural purity. Untainted, unbroken. The thought of devouring it brought a strange sense of satisfaction. She was a child, yes—but that only made her more valuable.
Without a word, Dante knelt before her, his gaze as cold as ice, void of pity.
"Do you wish to be saved?" he asked, his voice as devoid of emotion as the rest of him.
Her lips trembled as she nodded, hope flashing in her eyes.
He didn't hesitate. He raised the staff.
The runes flared to life, burning a dark crimson.
"Anima Devora."
The girl's eyes widened in confusion, and then… nothing. Her body went rigid, her face frozen in an expression of shock. The staff's power tore through her, draining her soul with brutal efficiency. Her body collapsed, lifeless, as the essence that had once been hers was consumed.
In an instant, she was gone. Her purity, her very soul, was devoured—nothing but empty air in her place.
Dante stood, unfazed.
The sensation of power surged through him. His limbs felt lighter, his body less weary. His features softened, youthful strength coursing through his veins, all in the span of a single, brutal act.
The weight of a soul—so pure, so untouched—had added its weight to his own. He didn't feel satisfied. He didn't feel guilty. He simply felt stronger.
[Ding]
[Soul Absorbed]
[Physical Restoration: 18%]
[Mana +60, Vitality +5]
[New Passive: Revitalizing Resonance — Converts innocence of a soul into physique restoration:- (Mana consume-500)]
[Skills description:-Revitalizing Resonance is a rare, soul-bound ability that echoes with ancient magic.
It draws vitality from ambient energy, healing the user's soul and amplifying their power.
When activated, it pulses like a heartbeat, restoring stamina and stabilizing fractured minds.
This ability thrives in chaos, turning pain and conflict into pure life force.
Only those who've embraced both suffering and serenity can truly master its rhythm]
[Warning:-Excessive use of this skill can damage the user's soul within short period of time. Host is advised to use this skill 3 times a day atmost (can increase as host soul becomes stronger) ]
'Revitalizing Resonance....huh ' . An ability that will help him change the very course of his destiny. Giving life force, decreasing his insanity, are some abilities that can help his thinking process and if not killed or have a mental breakdown and basically give him immortality.
He took a breath, savoring the moment.
"Mercy is for the weak," Dante whispered to the empty air. "And I have no use for weakness."
---
It wasn't long before the beast found him.
The Dire Warg emerged from the mist, a hulking mass of corruption, its blackened fur clinging to its bloated body. Its six eyes glowed with a sickly light, and its teeth, jagged and dripping with venom, were far too large for any mere animal.
But Dante didn't flinch. He didn't even blink.
He raised his father's staff, his grip firm, his mind focused.
"Come," he said, a dark smile curling on his lips.
The Warg charged, its howl splitting the air. Dante didn't move.
"Ignis Forma: Scythe."
A wicked crescent of flame formed at the tip of the staff, and in a single, fluid motion, he swung it through the beast. The Warg's howl turned to a shriek as fire sliced through its side, searing flesh and bone alike.
It staggered, bleeding, but still alive. It lunged for Dante, desperate, thrashing.
"Louder," Dante muttered, his voice a low growl. "Scream like your gods did when they saw my father's power."
The Warg's claws raked through the air, but Dante was already steps ahead. He whispered the words that would turn the battlefield into hell.
"Ruinus Flamma."
Black fire poured from the ground, engulfing the beast in a maelstrom of destruction. The Warg's body writhed and bucked, its screeches rising in pitch until the flames consumed it entirely. When the fire died down, nothing was left but a pile of smoldering ash and bone.
Dante stepped forward, unfazed. The core, still faintly pulsing with dark energy, remained untouched.
He crushed it beneath his boot.
[Ding]
[Core Consumed. Trial Complete.]
[Skill Unlocked: soulfire veil (mana consumed:- 800]
---
Dante stared at the ruins of the creature, his eyes cold, burning with a hatred that would never fade,and with that he vanished into the mist, leaving the charred remains behind.
He wasn't here to save the world.
He wasn't here to protect the innocent.
Dante was here to destroy. And every soul, every beast, every god that crossed his path would burn in the fire he would ignite.
---
The charred bones of the Warg still sizzled behind him, but Dante didn't look back.
The mist parted for him now. Whether it was fear or respect, he didn't care. The forest, once a place of nightmares, had become his hunting ground. And he—its quiet, merciless god.
Power will never be enough.
They will all burn.
By dawn, he reached the edge of the Hollow-wood, where the broken path led to the small cabin tucked between cliffs and cinder pines.
It was a place he once called home.
Smoke rose lazily from the chimney. The scent of stew lingered in the air. It might have once been comforting. Now, it just smelled… human.
Inside, the man who had raised him sat at a rough wooden table, hands stained with years of labor, face carved with time. Michael Caelum, his father's younger brother, the man who'd taken Dante in after Cendre's murder.
He looked up as the door creaked open.
"You're back," Michael said. "Alive, too. I suppose the Warg wasn't as deadly as the stories said."
Dante stepped in, eyes calm. "It screamed," he said flatly, "but not for long."
Michael studied him. "You've changed."
Dante didn't reply. He removed his cloak, revealing the staff—the very one Michael once forbade him from touching.
"Your eyes," Michael murmured, "they're colder than Cendre's ever were. What did you do, Dante?"
The young man's jaw tightened, but his voice was a calm storm. "I survived. I grew stronger. I took what was needed."
Michael frowned. "That staff... it demands a price. You think I don't know? I watched your father lose himself to it."
"He didn't lose himself," Dante said, stepping closer. "He was murdered by cowards in the skin of gods."
"And what do you think you're becoming now?" Michael stood, voice rising. "You've tasted power, and already your eyes have gone hollow. What did you do out there?"
"I freed something… innocent," Dante replied, "from a world that never deserved her. And she gave me strength in return."
Michael's face went pale.
"You… you didn't…" he stepped back, horror dawning in his eyes. "A child?"
"She was going to die either way," Dante said coldly. "Her soul did more for me than your lectures ever did."
Michael's fists clenched. "So that's it? You've become a monster?"
Dante tilted his head. "No. I've simply accepted that monsters win."
He raised the staff.
"Dante—" Michael's voice cracked. "I took you in. I raised you! I saved you when no one else would—!"
"And for that," Dante said, "you will be my greatest offering yet."
The staff ignited. The runes glowed brighter than ever before, feeding off the tension in the room.
"Amor Stella Vitae."
Michael screamed.
Not a scream of fear—but of pain. Agony twisted his face as his soul was pulled from his body, inch by inch, ripped apart in glowing threads. The staff drank deeply, greedily. Dante didn't look away. He watched his uncle's final moments with silent eyes, unmoved.
[Ding]
[Soul 'Michael....' has been Absorbed ]
[Strength +10]
[Magic Resistance +15]
[New Skill Unlocked: Soul Rend – Inflict spiritual- damage with physical strikes.]
[Emotional Resistance: +100%]
[Humanity: -1]
When the light faded, Michael collapsed to the floor—lifeless.
Dante stood over the body, the flickering fire casting shadows across his face.
"You were a good man," he murmured, voice devoid of emotion. "But good men die. Strong ones survive."
He turned, cloak swirling, staff pulsing with fresh power.
Behind him, the cabin began to smolder—set ablaze not by magic, but by the weight of betrayed and the absence of mercy.
---
Outside, the night welcomed him like an wise old man. The mortals thought they could bury him. The gods thought they could tame him. But now, even those closest to his heart were nothing but fuel, And the road to Olympus had just began.