Salem – Night
Dante cracked his neck and spun Rebellion once in his grip.
"Come on, junior. I've got a pizza date with a Russian hottie. Let's pick up the pace, will you?"
Illyana stepped forward, her Soulsword flaring with golden light.
"Dante—"
He held up a hand, eyes still locked on the hulking shadow ahead.
"Stay back, sunshine. This one's mine."
Logan bristled. "He's gonna get himself killed."
Cyclops stood beside him, his leg already patched up, arms crossed. He didn't move to stop Dante."He did just fight you without breaking a sweat."
Blackheart's claws scraped against the street, sparks hissing from molten cracks.
"Arrogant fool. You think your little toy will save you?"
"Not a toy, pal," Dante said, slipping Ebony and Ivory from their holsters. "Gotta keep it flashy for the audience."
He opened fire.
The twin pistols barked in perfect rhythm, their muzzles flaring white against the night. Bullets of hellfire tore through the air, carving glowing holes across Blackheart's chest.
The creature flinched—then sneered.
"You think that could kill me?"
"Not really," Dante said, holstering the guns mid-spin. "Hey, worth a try at least."
Blackheart lunged, the pavement shattering beneath his step.
Dante met him halfway—Rebellion singing through the air.
Their clash sent a shockwave through the ruins, flame and shadow exploding outward. The X-Men shielded their faces from the blast.
Illyana watched through the smoke, heart pounding.
Dante… you've changed so much since we were kids.
Dante pushed back, forcing the demon to stumble. He raised a hand and waved him forward in mock invitation.
"Come on, daddy's boy. You can do it."
Illyana almost smiled.
Blackheart's body twisted, shadows surging around him like serpents.
"You mock me, Son of Sparda. Your arrogance will be your undoing!"
"Yeah, yeah," Dante said. "I've heard that one before."
The demon's tail lashed out—a blur of black flame.
Dante ducked low, skidding backward, then snapped his leg up in a rising kick.
Ifrit's gauntlets blazed into existence around his arms and legs, red-hot and roaring with fire.
All the X-Men froze, wide-eyed—none of them had seen someone conjure a weapon from thin air.
He drove both fists into Blackheart's chest, the impact cracking like thunder. The street cratered beneath them, molten rock spraying outward.
"Heh," Dante said, cracking his knuckles. "Never gets old."
Blackheart roared, black ichor spilling from the wound before knitting back together.
"You cannot destroy what was born from the Abyss!"
"Guess I'll just have to punch harder."
He blurred forward, a streak of flame and motion.
Each blow from Ifrit burned deeper, carving molten trails across the demon's hide. Blackheart countered with shadow tendrils striking from every direction.
Dante vaulted through them, bullets flashing mid-air, blade following behind in a seamless dance.
Storm's voice broke through the chaos. "He's… pushing that thing back on his own?"
Cyclops adjusted his visor, eyes narrowing. "Not just pushing him back—he's winning."
A surge of crimson light burst from beneath Dante's feet as he slammed his boot into the ground, flipping Rebellion into a reverse grip.
"Round two."
With a grin, Dante dragged the sword behind him and swung upward in a wide arc. The ground split open, trails of flame spiraling from the impact.
He pivoted, bringing the sword down again in a reverse-grip slash—a burst of hellfire erupting from the blade like a dragon's breath.
The street ignited in a burning cross, molten cracks racing outward.
Blackheart staggered, pieces of his shadow form peeling away under the force of the strike.
Illyana's hand hovered over her pendant.
That sword… it feels alive.
Blackheart's voice thundered through the flames.
"Enough!"
He surged upward, growing taller, wings of pure void tearing from his back.
"You will drown in my father's darkness!"
Dante rolled his shoulders, eyes gleaming gold in the light.
"Darkness, flames, daddy issues—man, you demons need new material."
He jammed Rebellion into the ground, igniting a red glyph beneath his boots. Flames wrapped around his legs, crawling higher, burning hotter.
Illyana's eyes widened. "He's—"
Dante's grin sharpened.
"Let's rock."
The glyph burst.
Dante shot forward, Rebellion blazing white-hot. The next strike cleaved through Blackheart's wing, scattering shadow like ash.
He pivoted mid-spin, landing beside Illyana without missing a beat.
"Still watching?" he asked, smirking.
She blinked, breathless. "I—yes."
Kurt noticed Illyana hadn't taken her eyes off Dante for a single second.
He couldn't blame her. The man fought like a storm—wild, dangerous, stylish. Everything Kurt wasn't.
Blackheart's scream split the night, echoing through the ruins. His broken wings stretched wide, veins of molten red running through his body as shadows thickened around him. The air twisted, reality bending under the weight of his aura.
"Enough games!" he roared. "You'll kneel before the Abyss!"
The ground rippled like liquid shadow, swallowing the streetlight and flame alike. The world around them dimmed until only Dante and the monster stood in the half-light of Hell's reflection.
Illyana took a step forward, her hand tightening on her sword. "That's not just Hellfire… it's the void itself."
Cyclops raised a hand. "Stay back. He—he's pulling the whole area in."
Dante rolled his shoulders, unfazed, a grin tugging at his lips. "Oh, look at that. He's bringing the mood lighting."
Blackheart towered above him now, his voice rumbling from everywhere at once. "You joke to hide your fear."
"Fear?" Dante smirked. "Nah. Just trying to make you interesting."
The demon lunged.
Dante vanished in a flash of heat, reappearing above him, Rebellion blazing white-red. The sword crashed down, carving straight through one of Blackheart's arms. The severed limb dissolved into smoke before it could hit the ground.
Blackheart howled, the entire void trembling. Tendrils of darkness erupted, hundreds at once, spiraling toward Dante like spears. He cut through them in a blur of silver and flame, every movement fluid, precise—almost lazy.
Then one tendril caught him mid-air and slammed him into the ground hard enough to crack the street open.
Illyana gasped. "Dante!"
The dust cleared. He stood, head tilted, a thin trail of blood at his lip.
"Nice hit," he said, grinning through the bruise. "My turn."
He snapped his fingers. Ifrit's fire roared back to life, coating his arms in molten light. Rebellion pulsed, glyphs crawling up its blade. The air itself started to hum, reacting to the surge of demonic power gathering around him.
Blackheart hesitated—just for a moment.
"Yeah," Dante said, voice low, deadly calm. "Now you get it."
He blurred forward again, closing the distance faster than the demon could react. Rebellion screamed through the dark, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He struck again and again, each swing heavier than the last, until the final blow sent Blackheart crashing to one knee.
The monster wheezed, shadows leaking from his chest. "You… cannot… kill me."
Dante rested Rebellion across his shoulder. "Who said anything about killing?"
He drove the blade through Blackheart's chest.
The ground convulsed, red light searing up through the cracks. The air filled with a sound like a heartbeat echoing from deep underground.
Blackheart's body shuddered, his voice breaking into a guttural snarl. "You can't—control—me!"
"Guess we'll find out," Dante said.
The light twisted, folding inward, bone knitting where flesh had been. When the flames died, a new weapon hung in Dante's grasp—a long, black-bone scythe with a curved blade that shimmered like liquid fire. Veins of crimson energy pulsed through its surface, crawling beneath the pale ridges like blood beneath skin. The weapon shifted faintly, almost breathing.
The haft curved like a spine, its end forming a trigger guard of fused bone. Near the head, the scythe's tip split open—revealing a hollow barrel, the weapon's skeletal frame rearranging with a pulse of red light.
Illyana's eyes widened. "It's alive…"
A voice echoed from the weapon, deep and distorted—Blackheart's, twisted with pain and fury.
"Gravemind."
(A/N: Think of this weapon as similar to Crescent Rose from RWBY—a transforming scythe-rifle hybrid—but instead of sleek metal, it's built from living bone, with red veins crawling through it like pulsing energy.)
Dante stared at it for a second, then smirked. "Figures. Even dead, you talk too much."
He twirled the scythe once, feeling its weight. The weapon moved with him—fluid, eager, almost anticipating his grip.
"Alright, let's see what you can do."
He swung it wide. A wave of dark flame tore through the street, slicing a line straight through a collapsed building ahead. The structure didn't explode—it crumbled, stone and steel disintegrating into glowing ash.
"Not bad," he muttered, resting the haft across his shoulders. "Good reach. Nice bite."
Then the weapon shifted in his hands, the blade folding back as the rifle form snapped into place. He pulled the trigger.
A burst of shadow energy roared downrange, spiraling like a black comet. It hit a ruined lamppost and vaporized it completely, leaving only a smoking crater.
Dante blew across the barrel, grinning. "Now that's what I'm talking about."
Gravemind's pulse thumped once, the faint echo of Blackheart's voice hissing through the air.
"Feed me more…"
Dante rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah—pipe down, chatterbox."
He slung the weapon across his back, grin returning. "You'll get your turn."
Logan crossed his arms, whistling low. "Remind me never to piss you off."
Illyana still hadn't looked away. The faint reflection of fire danced in her eyes.
To her, he didn't look like the reckless boy she remembered.
He looked like a devil walking out of legend.
Dante turned, scythe still humming faintly, and offered Illyana a crooked grin.
"So… how about that pizza?"
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A/N: You guys did it again—50 power stones! 🎉 Here's your reward: another chapter fresh out of the oven! Think you can hit another 50 by the end of the week? Let's see what you've got! 💪🔥