It wasn't an illusion.
The moment Nero and Dante laid eyes on that towering statue, they knew.
The colossal figure that had descended here—its face solemn and holy, yet with a hollow chest radiating evil and corruption—was no mere mirage conjured from memory. This was the real deal.
If time could rewind to that fateful day when Dante, after cutting down countless foes, finally reached the Demon Emperor's palace deep in the Demon World, the enemy that rose from the shattered tiles to face him was exactly like the one standing before them now.
"Nanna…" The statue touched down, its gaze lifting to the scarlet full moon above, its voice rumbling like thunder. "You're not dead."
Truth be told, this majestic stone form wasn't Mundus' true body either—just the shattered husk of what Dante had once broken. The real Mundus, that ugly, unholy demon soul, was still trapped in the liminal space between the human world and the Demon World.
Long ago, even with the Sparda sword's power, Dante had only managed to shatter Mundus' body. Having devoured the fruit of the Demon World's tree, Mundus was damn near immortal, tied to the very lifespan of the Demon World itself. Neither Sparda nor Dante could truly kill him—sealing him away was the best they could do.
And now, with his broken body manifesting again, Mundus' will had crossed endless voids to project itself here. The seal was starting to crack.
"Is that really such a shocker?" Nanna giggled, her voice dripping with mockery. "You've always known you could never truly kill me."
As a demon who ruled the dreamworld, Nanna was the kind that just wouldn't stay dead. As long as a single living creature existed, she could hijack a new body through dreams and rise again, even if her form was destroyed.
Mundus knew this all too well.
He also knew this stone body was just a dreamworld shadow, not the real thing. And more importantly, he knew that beyond Nanna, who'd helped loosen his seal, a far greater enemy stood before him now.
"Dante." Mundus turned, his three glowing red eyes blazing with malevolent light. He fixed all three on Dante, his voice booming with regal authority as he declared his return. "Son of Sparda, you must remember what I told you."
Dante tilted his head, slipping into his usual cocky grin like it was second nature. "Oh, really? I only bother remembering what important people say. Maybe jog my memory?"
The jab was subtle but sharp—calling Mundus a nobody. Mundus, one of the few demons who could manipulate human hearts with ease, caught the insult loud and clear. But he wasn't about to take the bait from such a cheap taunt.
"Forgotten? No matter. I'll make you remember."
Mundus spread his wings, and pristine white feathers—formed from condensed light—began to fall from his stone wings. Dante's eyes narrowed, and he waved Nero back with a quick gesture.
"Get these kids outta here," he said, his voice heavy but laced with his trademark smirk. "Unless you want 'em having nightmares when I beat this ugly bastard back to his true form."
Nero didn't have time to respond. The next instant, those holy feathers ignited, transforming into blazing fireballs that rained down from the sky. The heavens burned as countless feathers became a fiery deluge. Dante leaped into the fray, his devil trigger flaring to life. With three crisscrossing slashes of Rebellion, he carved out a vacuum in the storm, then glanced back and shouted, "Move it!"
No time to waste. Nero spun around, grabbing Chisaya Aine, who was frozen in place, terrified by the apocalyptic firestorm. "Don't just stand there—run!" she barked, her voice cutting through to Aine and her teammates.
In the heat of the moment, there was no room for finesse or pleasantries. Nero's blunt, no-nonsense yell snapped the shell-shocked high school girls out of their daze. She grabbed Aine's hand and bolted.
God only knew how far they'd have to run to escape Mundus' wrath. And Nero had no clue how Dante, without the Sparda sword, would fare against the Demon Emperor. Deep down, she refused to believe Dante could lose to some half-real projection, but logic nagged at her: Dante had come to this island nation on a whim, unprepared. Against this Mundus, he might not have the edge.
The fire rain kept falling, scorching the air above them. Nero glanced back. Dante, now in full devil form, was soaring toward Mundus, Rebellion gleaming in his grip. That was his fight—nobody else could handle it.
Nero's job? Protect the city and keep these girls safe.
The dreamworld had engulfed the entire city, with countless people trapped in slumber. If that fire rain hit them, the body count would be catastrophic. With Dante tied up, Nero was their only shot at salvation.
Without hesitation, she reached for Aine's golden shield. "Sorry, I'm borrowing this."
Then, with a surge of demonic power, she let out a defiant song.
"Eternal fire rains from the heavens, melting sand to molten red!"
The shield's multicolored gems flared to life. As Nero's demonic energy drained rapidly, a translucent barrier shimmered into existence, spreading like an aurora over the city.
"I walk in silence to this place, where a river flows from the woods—"
Another voice joined from the heavens, ethereal and harmonizing with Nero's chant, weaving the power of "rejection" into the barrier she'd forged.
The fire rain hammered the shield, sending ripples across its surface. Nero looked up, instantly recognizing the other singer.
"Sorrow"—Hatsuka Sankaku.
Her power, born of sorrow, rejected everything, lulling all into sleep. With this enigmatic demon's aid—friend or foe unclear—Nero's barrier solidified, strong enough to withstand the aftershocks of Mundus' fire rain.
But if Mundus' attacks slipped past Dante and hit the barrier full-force, it'd shatter in an instant.
"That river, blood-red, quenches every fireball that falls upon it!"
Nero sang again, stabilizing the forming barrier. Hatsuka's voice followed in tandem: "That blood river is the tears of base metals beneath the gold—"
The barrier grew stronger. Nero belted out the final verse, pouring every ounce of her Pride Devil Trigger's power into it, locking the shield into place.
"They seep into the earth, descending to the lowest depths, becoming four rivers of lament and hate!"
Her work was done. Now, all she could do was pray for Dante's safety.
Drained of all her demonic power, Nero dropped out of her devil form, her golden hair spilling around her as she collapsed.
(End of Chapter)