The gate creaked as it swung open, revealing a passage swallowed by pulsating shadows—like the threshold to another world. Ethan took a deep breath, the lingering fatigue hanging over him like a weight on his shoulders, and stepped forward.
With each step, the metallic echo of his boots rang through the narrow corridor. Minutes must have passed before the darkness finally gave way, revealing the interior of an abandoned building.
Peeling walls, shattered windows, and destroyed furniture told the story of a place that had once been a luxurious hotel—now nothing more than a tomb of concrete. Dust floated in the air, caught in faint streaks of violet light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling.
In the center of the main lobby, something slowly emerged from the shadows.
First came the sound—a twisted, malignant laugh.
Then the silhouette took form.
The creature towered over three meters tall, gaunt and skeletal, shrouded in a tattered black cloak that dragged across the floor like liquid smoke. Its hood partially hid its skull, but blue flames burned within its hollow eye sockets and open jaw, as if forever screaming in silence.
In its bony hands, it held a colossal scythe—the shaft made from interwoven bones, the curved blade forged from violet energy that pulsed like a living heart. Each swing hummed with a cutting resonance that made the air itself vibrate.
Ethan instantly raised his guard.
"Damn… I remember you from the third game… Hell Vanguard."
The entire atmosphere seemed to freeze. Pressure pressed in around Ethan, as if gravity itself had doubled. A suffocating aura of death and utter silence smothered even the sound of his own heartbeat.
The Hell Vanguard slowly lifted its head, locking its blazing gaze onto him—then lunged forward.
The scythe's blade cut through the air in a wide arc, and Ethan immediately leapt back, feeling the icy wind that followed the strike. The floor where he'd been just moments ago split open like butter, revealing twisted rebar and rubble beneath.
Ethan didn't hesitate. He dashed forward, drawing on the surge of strength and agility he'd gained inside the dungeon. In a blink, he was within striking range, unleashing a flurry of five blows aimed straight at the demon.
But every single one of his attacks was intercepted—blocked by the scythe's shaft. Each impact sent bursts of violet lightning cracking through the air.
Then came the counter.
The creature lifted its right leg and snapped a vicious kick toward him. Ethan barely had time to raise his guard. The sheer weight of the strike made his bones scream in protest as he was hurled backward at breakneck speed, smashing into a wall and crashing into another corridor.
[Danger! 20% of life compromised!]
"What the hell—?!"
He didn't even finish the thought. As he tried to push himself to his feet, the monster burst through the broken wall and swung its scythe downward, aiming to cleave him clean in half.
Ethan launched himself upward, planting a foot on the ceiling and kicking off, dropping down like a missile toward the Hell Vanguard.
VZZSP!
A split second before he could land the hit, his fist cut through empty air. The creature had vanished.
"Shit…"
A chill ran down Ethan's spine—just before a violet flash burst to his side.
The Hell Vanguard emerged from the shadow of a cracked pillar, already spinning its scythe in a horizontal cut so fast the air seemed to warp. Ethan threw himself back at the last second, the ethereal edge passing mere inches from his face.
Before he could counter, another flash—this time behind him.
VZUUUSH!
He ducked, but the blade still grazed his left shoulder, searing his flesh like burning coal.
Another teleport. Another strike.
Each dodge was razor-close, yet crimson lines and thin streams of blood began marking his skin. His boosted Perception was the only thing keeping him alive.
Then the system chimed in:
[Danger! Multiple wounds detected! 5% HP will be lost per minute due to bleeding!]
"You've got to be kidding me…" he muttered, wiping the blood off his face.
The Hell Vanguard reappeared in front of him, scythe raised for a vertical slash.
Ethan dropped low, dodging the blow, and countered with a furious barrage—a storm of punches, raw power and speed behind every strike, each one making the air quake.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
But the demon blocked every hit with the scythe's bone shaft, moving just as fast as Ethan could throw them. Every clash sent black sparks and purple lightning exploding outward.
The pressure was insane—floor tiles cracked under their feet, and chunks of the ceiling began crashing down.
Ethan tried a faster combo, switching stances mid-attack to break the demon's rhythm, but the Hell Vanguard refused to yield.
Then, without warning, it let out a silent roar and rammed forward with its shoulder.
The impact was like being hit by an armored truck. Ethan's ribs screamed as he was sent flying across the hall, smashing through two concrete walls, skidding through a narrow corridor, and crashing into what looked like the hotel's old restaurant. Broken tables and chairs scattered around him.
[Danger! 45% HP remaining!]
He staggered to his feet, panting, blood dripping from his mouth. His ribs felt one good hit away from snapping. His entire body protested in agony. The remains of his armor were gone; his shirt was in tatters, offering no protection, and his cargo pants were slashed in several places. Only his steel-toed boots remained intact.
The Hell Vanguard appeared above him, bringing the scythe down with brutal force. Ethan rolled aside, but the strike shattered the floor like glass, sending debris and shockwaves hurling him several meters away.
He sprang up and assessed the enemy from a distance.
The creature was practically immune to his blows. That cursed scythe was impossibly durable, and its reaction speed let it block anything he threw. On top of that, the monster never gave him breathing room—teleporting, striking, vanishing, over and over. It was suffocating.
Ethan's breath grew heavy. If this kept up, he'd bleed out or get sliced to pieces.
But then it hit him—it wasn't exactly the Hell Vanguard overpowering him… it was the weapon.
That damned scythe blocked every attack, tore into him with every graze, drained his stamina, and shut down every counter he tried. Without it… maybe—just maybe—he could win.
The problem was, there was no way the monster would willingly let go of it. He'd only have one shot. If he failed, the Hell Vanguard would realize his plan and never loosen its grip again.
he enemy lunged—rapid teleports, sweeping side slashes.
Ethan kept retreating, dodging by the skin of his teeth.
Then came a vertical strike, heavy enough to split a car in half.
Ethan planted his feet, raised his hands, and in that instant—activated Ruler's Touch.
An invisible force burst out from him, like ethereal chains latching onto the scythe's shaft.
The Hell Vanguard wasn't expecting it—the blade froze mid-swing, completely locked. With a brutal yank, Ethan ripped the weapon from its bony hands.
The colossal scythe flew toward him, embedding itself in the ground at his side.
The monster let out a silent roar of rage—
And that's when Ethan charged.
"Now it's my turn!"
Five—six—seven punches. Each impact reverberated through the hall, shattering columns, ripping chunks of wall apart, making the entire structure tremble.
The final blow—a right hook—smashed into the creature's skeletal jaw, launching it upward.
The ceiling cracked as the massive body rose. Purple mist began swirling around it—teleport prep.
"Not this time!" Ethan roared.
Ruler's Touch exploded again, yanking the Hell Vanguard down from midair before it could vanish, slamming it toward the ground.
Ethan didn't waste a second. He reached for the scythe lodged in the floor and tore it free.
With a leap, he met the falling demon midair.
The sound of the blade cutting through the air roared like thunder.
"AAAAAAAAAAH!"
BOOM!
The impact unleashed shockwaves in every direction. Black lightning erupted where the scythe met its own former wielder, tearing the room apart. But the creature's body still resisted.
It raised one hand, trying to strike Ethan—
"JUST DIE!"
Ethan burned through the rest of his mana, invoking Ruler's Touch one last time, driving the scythe forward with overwhelming force.
ZUUUM!
The blade cleaved the Hell Vanguard in two, the weapon's own energy devouring its body.
An explosion ripped out from the point of impact, hurling Ethan across the room. Bone fragments and black smoke scattered into the air, and the creature's silent scream faded along with the glow of its blue flames.
Ethan landed on his feet, chest heaving. Silence returned to the ruined hotel.
He stared at the scythe for a few seconds, feeling its weight.
"You weren't that much stronger than me… you just had a damn magic weapon."
Only then did he take a closer look at it.
Rarity: A-Rank
Name: Rift Reaper's Scythe
Type: Long Scythe
Attack: +350
A scythe imbued with the power of the Reaper leader. Highly durable, capable of absorbing concussive attacks to boost maximum damage.
Bonus Effect:After the second hit on the same target, armor is ignored.
Ethan let the shaft rest on the floor and drew in a deep breath.
Days of fighting through demon hordes, bleeding out, surviving by a hair—
And in the end, what made the fight so hellish was going against an artifact barehanded.
Without the scythe, the Hell Vanguard would've been far less trouble.
The system's chime pulled him from his thoughts.
[Unique Drop: You have obtained: Rift Reaper's Mantle]
The black mantle drifted toward Ethan, wrapping around him like living smoke.
[Adapting to user…]
The cloth reshaped itself, becoming a flowing black trench coat with subtle violet accents.
[+15% Max HP | +15% Max MP]
Energy coursed through every fiber of his being. Ethan smirked.
"…Yeah, this is good."
Then the system began chiming again, rapid-fire.
[EXP GAINED!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!] 🆙
[YOU REACHED LEVEL 20!]
[15 Attribute Points acquired.]
[Skill Unlocked: Shadow Extraction]
[Special Dungeon Reward delivered!]
A flash appeared in front of him, and slowly, a chest materialized—suspended in the air by ghostly chains.
Its surface looked like black glass, with streams of violet lightning dancing inside.
As he reached for it, the system pinged:
[ETHEREAL CHEST – UNIVERSE: DEVIL MAY CRY]
Rarity: S-Rank
Function:When opened, this chest grants a random item from the current universe. Possible rewards range from common artifacts to legendary relics.
Note:Once opened, the obtained item cannot be exchanged or returned.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
"So I can get anything from here, huh…?"
"Well, let's see if I'm lucky."
When he opened it, a burst of light and smoke erupted outward.
Two weapons spun through the air before floating in front of him. He recognized them instantly.
The first—a polished steel pistol, elegant gold engravings along its side: "Ebony & Ivory."
The metal shimmered with a cold, liquid-like gleam, reflecting light hypnotically.
The grip, made of perfectly polished dark wood, bore the image of a lady with classical features—her serene gaze in sharp contrast to the weapon's deadly purpose.
The second—identical in form, but opposite in presence.
A deep matte black body that swallowed light rather than reflecting it.
The same golden inscriptions, the same grip design—but here, the lady seemed shrouded in shadows, almost alive within the wood.
Ethan lifted them, feeling their flawless weight and natural fit in his hands.
Cold to the touch—yet carrying a subtle warmth, as if they already recognized their new owner.
[EBONY & IVORY]
Type: Twin Pistols
Rarity: S-Rank
Attack: +200 (each)
Crafted by legendary gunsmith Nell Goldstein and enhanced with demonic magic.
Ebony — Long-range, high-precision, rapid rate of fire.
Ivory — Short-range, high-speed, high critical damage.
Bonus Effect:Shots ignore non-magical armor and have a chance to pierce magical barriers.
Ethan twirled the pistols in his hands, testing their perfect balance.
"Now this—this is a real gift."
Before he could store them away, the system chimed once more:
[DIMENSIONAL KEY OBTAINED!]
Function:Allows you to change the current Rift universe to another of your choice. Once used, you cannot return unless another key is obtained.
He frowned, thoughtful.
"So I can leave Devil May Cry and head to another world…"
Tempting—but he knew exactly how valuable this universe was.
"…No way," he muttered. "There's still too much treasure here, and I know exactly which ones i want."
The key vanished into his inventory. Finally, exhaustion began to settle in.
Wounded, supplies depleted, and satisfied with the rewards, he decided it was time to end the incursion.
That's when he remembered something far more important had happened in this battle—a new skill he was dying to test.
Ethan walked over to the Hell Vanguard's body.
As soon as he approached, a new notification appeared:
[Shadow extraction possible. Proceed?]
He let out a low chuckle, remembering the stories he used to read as a kid.
"I always wanted to do this."
[Confirm invocation command.]
Ethan raised his hand; the Hell Vanguard's shadow quivered at his feet.
"Arise."
VOOOOOOOOOOOM!
A wave of darkness swept through the hall. Black fragments fused to the dead body, and from the depths, the Hell Vanguard rose once more—completely black, yet with blue flames still burning in its eyes.
The creature knelt before him, exhaling a macabre, cavernous breath.
Ethan kept his gaze steady, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Welcome to my army."
Still kneeling, the reaper kept its head bowed before its new master.
Ethan drew a long breath; his eyes fell on the scythe lying a few feet away—the very artifact that had almost killed him minutes earlier.
He walked to it, the metallic echo of his boots carrying across the silent hall, and lifted it.
"Always was yours, wasn't it? he murmured, approaching the newly forged shadow."
When he placed it into the Hell Vanguard's skeletal hands, the malignant violet glow around the blade almost instantly went out, replaced by a spectral, ghostly blue—as if the weapon sensed the presence of its former wielder, now reborn under a new bond.
The scythe vibrated softly, emitting a low, resonant hum that seemed to ripple along the walls. The system registered:
[Synchronization complete: original weapon equipped by the summoned entity. Damage bonus increased.]
The Hell Vanguard raised the scythe with both hands and swept it in a wide arc. The air around it hissed, and bluish sparks peeled from the blade, dancing like spirits fleeing an invisible prison.
Ethan smiled, satisfied.
Now the Rift Reaper was complete—and under his command.
Ahead, the air began to distort. A portal opened, revealing the same threshold where it had all begun. The violet light pulsed softly, a silent invitation to leave.
Ethan took one last look at the ruined hall. The battle had been brutal—but rewarding. Very rewarding.
The Hell Vanguard took a single step forward and, with a final motion, dissolved and flowed back into Ethan's shadow.
Then Ethan spoke, without another moment's hesitation:
— Time to go home.
With a firm step, he crossed the portal.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
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