The rain fell over Duraand.It was no cleansing storm—it scratched rooftops and soaked the rotting flesh of stray animals that had succumbed to corruption.
Dante moved beneath the sickly sky, his black coat clinging to his skin, boots slogging through a mixture of mud, blood, and human filth.
The wind carried the scent typical of the underbelly, mildew, rust, and damp flesh.
Tucked under his arm was a bundle of envelopes and bloodstained pages torn from the Chrysalide archives—documents taken after he slit the throats of the scribes who kept them.
One name kept surfacing at the bottom of each page : Caledron.
"Debt paid through silence."
"Sacrifice approved: Annabelle Edwin. Status : blind. Vital signs declining."
The meaning was clear. His mother hadn't fallen ill by accident. Nor by misfortune.
She had been sold.
Dante stepped into a dive bar at the edge of the Ash District—The Extinguished Throat.
Inside, the air stank of beer. Blurred, gaunt faces barely turned toward him before returning to their drunk silence.
In the far corner, hunched over a rusted iron table, sat a man with a brown scarf around his neck.
They called him Belloq. His black eye came from some street brawl, but his tongue dripped secrets like poison.
Dante sat across from him without a word.
— "You've got the look of someone ready to blow up a world." Belloq said with a slow, burping laugh.
— "You're disgusting," Dante replied coldly. "Tell me where I can find them. All of them. One by one."
He dropped the blood-stained pages on the table, but kept his hand over them like a beast guarding its prey.
Belloq looked down. His face drained when he recognized the seals.
— "Shit… You cracked a viper's nest. These aren't just people, Dante. They're a whole goddamn army. The Caledrons don't lend to get repaid. They lend to punish. And some of them enjoy it."
— "I'm not here for their money. I'm here for their blood."
Belloq wiped sweat from his neck, suddenly nervous.
— "You don't want to start smaller ? A branch ? A lieutenant ? They hole up in a manor deep in the banking district. Protected by ritual debts, cursed bonds, and all sorts of unholy pacts."
— "I'll get to them. Just give me the first door."
A heavy silence.
Then Belloq whispered :
— "Don't say I didn't warn you. Start with the House of Black Honey. It's a front—a brothel buried in Vorel's sewers. That's where they wash their blood money and test out their techniques on bodies. You'll find Sarn there. One of their executioners. He's silenced dozens… like your mother."
Dante stared. He didn't blink.
— "Thanks. Now tell me one thing… You knew, didn't you ? About her ?"
A pause. Too long.
— "I heard whispers... someone said a woman gave up her sight so her son could have sucess. But I didn't know it was her, Dante. Not Annabelle Edwin. She was married to Tristan Caledron, but there were rumors—she ran off with a commoner, a man named Edward, driven by passion. She fled with her newborn. That's all anyone knew. Then she took a debt. For you. To get you into a academy in Almeris."
Dante rose, fists clenched. He had suspected, but this… this was more than he knew.
The chair scraped against the grimy floor.
A hand on his shoulder.
— "Dante... if you kill them all, what'll be left ? No hate. No purpose. And your family ? They'll be hunted next."
He turned halfway, shadows cloaking his face, something monstrous glinting in his eyes.
— "You don't know a thing about me. Dante is dead. I'm just continuing his story. Enemies ? I've got thousands. Burdens ? I carry every cry of 'freedom' from the innocent. And I won't stop… not while pigs like the Caledrons sleep in peace. Caledron. Klein. Sparda. The New Church. Hell's demons. Satan himself. Anyone who dares hurt my people… I'll slaughter them all."
Belloq blinked—confused, shaken. It was as if someone else had spoken through Dante.
Dante left the tavern like a soul rising from its grave, leaving fear behind. He embraced his rage, and with it, he awakened Ginny—the entity feeding on his deepest emotions.