[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
The Nemean Lion did not hesitate.
It lunged, jaws opening wide as it surged toward Dante with a guttural roar, teeth like blades closing in on him from above and below. There was no feint to it—no hesitation, just the overwhelming intent to crush, tear, and end him.
Dante moved to meet it.
His hands shot forward before the bite could close. Gauntlets slammed against bone and sinew as his fingers locked onto the upper and lower sections of the Lion's massive jaws. Alloy screeched faintly as his grip tightened, filigree biting into his palms beneath the pressure.
The jaws stopped an inch from his helm.
The Nemean Lion snarled, muscles bunching, its breath hot and rank as it pushed forward with its full weight. Dante's boots dug into the shattered ground, heels carving grooves as he was driven back inch by inch.
Pain exploded through him.
