Under Mundus' wings, darkness swallowed Dante whole. Then, pinpricks of starlight flickered to life in the void, transforming the battlefield into a shimmering galaxy. Amid the cosmic expanse, burning stars rained down like meteors. Dante swung his sword, obliterating the celestial onslaught, but new stars kept forming, undeterred. Spinning his blade into a whirlwind, he stole a worried glance back.
Nero had conjured a massive barrier over the city, only to collapse from exhaustion. Dante let out a relieved sigh.
"Who the hell does this kid take after?"
As he spoke, he flapped his leathery wings, dodging a barrage of meteors with a twist of his body. Channeling his demonic power into Rebellion, the sword glowed with dense, crimson light, layer upon layer, until it resembled a spinning bullet.
Nero's barrier was a game-changer—it shielded the city, letting Dante sidestep weaker attacks instead of tanking them. But as the older, stronger demon hunter, Dante's pride wouldn't let him thank the kid for it. Especially not in front of the enemy.
"Come on, Mundus!" He locked eyes with the towering figure looming beneath the sky, its back adorned with countless stars. Taunting, he roared, "I smashed you once, and I'll do it again!"
Mundus spread its arms, the starry backdrop flaring brighter as another meteor shower plummeted. At the same time, a radiant glow pulsed from the hollow abyss of its chest, unleashing a majestic white beam infused with lightning, tempests, hail, acid rain—every calamity humanity could imagine. Its attack matched its divine appearance, a heavenly punishment raining from above.
"Foolish," Mundus intoned. "Humans are forever foolish. Dante, without the Sword of Sparda—"
While Mundus droned on, Dante unleashed his strike. He released all the demonic energy he'd poured into Rebellion, charging forward with the blade like a reverse-shooting black meteor, colliding head-on with Mundus' blinding beam.
"—you are nothing."
In that moment, Mundus passed its judgment. And Dante, like a pebble dropped into a raging river, vanished into the white torrent without so much as a ripple.
Mundus turned its gaze away, faintly bored.
Just a human, after all. Even with Sparda's blood, he was merely…
"Wrong, buddy. I'm the guy who beat you. And the son of the guy who beat you." Dante's snarky voice cut through the light, dripping with mockery. Mundus froze, suddenly noticing its beam—
"Hm?"
—had shortened?
In an instant, Mundus' eyes locked on. There, within the blinding white beam, Dante charged, sword-first, his demonic energy unfurling like an eggshell around him. The shimmering barrier deflected Mundus' attack like a mirror. Moments later, the beam dissipated, and Dante—having carved through its entirety—emerged stronger, his momentum unbroken.
The black meteor hurtled straight for the towering deity.
To think he could wield such power without the Sword of Sparda? Mundus' mind raced. As Sparda's son, perhaps Dante had already drawn strength from the blade's legacy.
Fine. This was more interesting. Defeating a true heir of Sparda would be far more thrilling than crushing a weakling.
Mundus waved a hand, and several stars detached from its celestial backdrop. They pulsed, swelling into spinning, stone-like eyeballs—new demons, created on a whim. Such was the privilege of the Demon World's lord, a power granted only to those who'd consumed the Fruit of the Demon Tree.
Sneering at Dante, who barreled toward it cloaked in demonic energy, Mundus commanded its newborn eye-demons to form a net in the air, a trap to ensnare him. It had seen this move before. Years ago, the "Dark Knight" Sparda had charged similarly, piercing Mundus' chest in a sneak attack, leaving an unhealing scar.
But in Mundus' eyes, Dante was a pale shadow of his father. His demonic energy, his physical strength, his speed—none matched Sparda's. Even this black meteor, compared to the one that had once shattered Mundus' chest, was pitifully small. And unlike Sparda's ambush, Dante was brazenly attacking head-on.
A needle, no matter how sharp, couldn't fell an elephant.
Not worth taking seriously.
"He'll never measure up…"
Mundus sent its demon array to meet Dante head-on. But just as the words left its mouth, Dante, still charging with sword raised, bellowed, "Hey, you dusty old relic—you really Ascending, you really think Sparda's power was just in the sword?"
What did that mean?
Mundus couldn't comprehend.
It commanded its eye-demons to sync with its beam, doubling its power and unleashing it again. No matter what tricks Dante had pulled, raw power would overwhelm him. A single drop couldn't shift a river!
Like before, Dante cloaked himself in demonic energy, forming tight, crimson armor to face the torrent of divine power. He could feel his energy eroding, like a pool drained by a pump. It was only natural—no one could match Mundus' sheer demonic reserves. It was like trying to lift the entire Demon World single-handedly.
But Dante had to win. His niece had already gone all out—how could he, her uncle, let her show him up? Even without Sparda's sword, he'd win—and he'd do it with style, with flair!
The dormant sparks of demonic power within him—those Trish once said were "drowning in sundaes"—stirred under his resolve, pouring into this one strike.
And in that moment, Mundus sensed something off, a shift in Dante's aura. This wasn't as simple as it had assumed.
It raised a hand, fingers clenching tight. The galaxy-like battlefield shuddered, contracting like a heartbeat. Countless burning stars drew closer, colliding in bursts of searing sparks. Flames and lightning surged toward the lone figure struggling within the beam.
Finally, Dante's energy-armor shattered, leaving him exposed to the world-piercing radiance.
"You are not Sparda."
Mundus gazed at the figure vanishing into the light, finishing its earlier sentence.
Alright! The promised triple update for the release is finally done!
(Chapter End)