It was finally time to permanently break this portal—or at least erase the traces that made it detectable.
It required an absurd amount of energy, and Jin could feel his reserves dwindling.
Fortunately, the body he now inhabited, though damaged and worn by the scars of dark energy, still had enough potential to meet his immediate needs.
The previous owner had probably fallen into an abyssal depression, unable to withstand the constant corrosion of his being by that force. An involuntary martyr.
For Kang Soo Jin, it was almost a miracle fallen from the sky.
Unlike the absurd tales meant to frighten the masses—those that depicted dark energy as an irredeemable taint—Jin knew it was, above all, a curse... but a tamable one.
Back then, his original body had resisted naturally thanks to the pact he had formed with Sparda.
This time, however, the story would be different.
He would have to awaken the fragments of Dante's powers buried within him and, above all, learn to control his Nexus—the network of vital and occult energy that linked his soul, mind, and body.
He had retraced his steps, to where it had all begun, to where he had merged with this body.
He returned below the cliff, for as long as he could remember he had felt an energy emanating from a nearby cave.
This place also reminded him of a dream he once had.
Each step plunged him deeper into thicker darkness.
But by channeling the corrupted energy into his retinas, he activated what he simply called Dark Vision, an ability that allowed him to perceive not only shapes but also the flows of energy and lingering emotions.
What he found there, in that natural chamber carved deep into the earth, was a field of carnage.
Corpses—a grotesque mountain of bodies piled high—bathed in an acrid, suffocating atmosphere of death.
Torn clothing and scattered gear betrayed their identities : mercenaries, raiders, a few reckless Awakened. The black meteorite itself stood like a relic devoured by invisible bites.
Several of its extremities had been torn off, gnawed away.
Suddenly, Jin felt a presence behind him. He turned around, but nothing was there.
Then, a shadow creature leapt at him. Expecting fangs, he instead received... licks.
Ginny, his familiar—the shadow creature he had once summoned through a pact woven with Sparda—stood atop him.
Taking the form of a spectral wolf, he turned toward Jin, his yellow eyes shining like beacons.
He stretched out his thin body, hind legs folded beneath him, and gazed at his master with a wise look.
Jin sighed, remembering the time he had forged the pact with Sparda, when he was still a young, naive man.
The memory of the demonic familiar who had offered his soul—this same shadow companion he had summoned—flooded back to him.
"You remember, Ginny ?" Jin said as he crouched near the black meteorite, observing the smoldering ashes it left in its wake. "When we started all this. When I was just a kid, and I decided to take this power."
The wolf seemed to nod but said nothing.
After all, Ginny was not a creature of soul and words, but an extension of his master's will and desires.
Yet, within that shared silence, there was mutual understanding—a bond forged through battles and decades spent together.
Their relationship was more complex than mere servitude. Ginny was not a slave; he was he power, born from Jin's internal struggles, from his dilemmas and choices.
They were bound—Ginny was Jin and Jin was Ginny—a pact that had transcended simple loyalty.
Ginny had not only been an ally; he had been Jin's last link to humanity when he was lost in the world's darkness.
After all this time, Ginny had remained faithful and devoted, waiting for his master's return from his long slumber, unaware that the end of the pact would not simply mean Jin's disappearance, but the destruction of everything he had ever known.
And now, after thousands of years spiritually but only thirty years in the mortal world, Jin was back—changed, with his mission still unfinished, and his burden just as heavy.
Ginny, on his side, had wandered the world, sowing chaos, searching for his master—his only friend—until Jin's death left him lost.
Jin felt a strange warmth emanating from his familiar—a warmth he hadn't felt in a very long time.
Ginny stepped closer and gently rested his muzzle against his master's leg with tenderness.
"You... you worried about me, didn't you ?"
Ginny looked up, blinking slowly, and a faint, deep rumble escaped his throat.
He didn't need to answer verbally; Jin already knew.
Ginny had crossed devastated lands, tormented by his own pain, just to pick up the faintest trace of his master.
And he had never stopped searching—in ruins, in every forgotten corner of the world.
Jin laid a hand on Ginny's head, stroking him gently.
"You're a true companion, Ginny. You have no idea how much I missed you."
The duo had reunited after all this time, and it was as if the world around them ceased to exist.
Shadow and light, corruption and redemption—all gathered in this single moment, there, in the dimness of the cave, under Ginny's watchful gaze.
Ginny flopped onto the ground, his belly round and distended, looking as innocent as a puppy who had just emptied an entire stew pot.
His yellow pupils shone with lazy satisfaction, and when he saw Jin getting up, taking in the massacre he had caused, he rolled onto his back, stretching out his paws with an expression of pure innocence.
Jin pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"You're really a bottomless pit, huh..." he muttered, bending down to scratch Ginny behind the ears.
Truth be told, he couldn't really be mad at him.
The more Ginny absorbed energy and matter, the stronger he became.
And with everything that was about to happen, having Ginny by his side in his best form was a blessing he couldn't afford to scorn.
Chances were, at this very moment, Ginny was probably even stronger than he was.
Jin's gaze then fell on a crumpled paper lying at his feet.
"Retrieve the stone... reward... blessing of the High Prior... blah blah blah... Sect of the Priors of Corruption..."
Jin let out a short, dry laugh.
"So... the cockroaches are still active," he said, crumpling the letter with casual disdain.
From memory, the Priors of Corruption were as dangerous as they were pitiful—a sect gathering necromancers, deranged demonologists, and fanatical worshippers of purifying suffering.
He still remembered the chaos he had unleashed when he wrecked one of their macabre ceremonies and gutted their former High Prior.
Since that day, he knew he featured prominently in their vengeful prayers.
"Looks like I'll have to lay low... again."