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Soren reacted instantly. He raised his right hand, palm open and loosely curled.
Ash drifted up from the rusty steel bars and iron wires all around, gathering into his grip.
A heavy, brutal giant blade slowly took shape in his hand.
The blade was broad and thick, covered in rust, yet its edge gleamed with cold, sharp light.
The entire weapon was straight and square — even the hilt was just a simple iron plate. No unnecessary decoration at all.
Soren gripped the handle and felt its reassuring weight.
He gave it a couple casual swings. The massive blade sliced through the fog with a whooshing sound.
"Feels good."
The corner of Soren's mouth curved upward. "Today I'm cosplaying as Third Brother."
"I hope you can take a few hits, because…"
Soren charged forward dragging the giant blade. The tip scraped across the steel ground, throwing up a trail of sparks.
The moment he closed in on Maria, his body exploded upward.
"I'm entering second phase too!"
No flashy sword techniques.
Just the simplest, most violent strike—
A downward chop from the air!
The heavy giant blade carried the momentum to split mountains and shatter stone, smashing straight down onto the forelimb Maria had raised in defense.
Clang!!
The sound of metal shattering echoed everywhere!
Under the absolute crushing force of the giant blade, Maria's pair of metal forelimbs snapped off and flew away.
Soren didn't stop. The giant blade felt weightless in his hands, moving exactly as he willed.
Horizontal sweep, upward slash, triple slash…
Once he had a proper weapon, the top-tier sword talent that came with his Sparda bloodline, combined with years of muscle memory beaten into him by Dante, was fully unleashed.
In just a few breaths, the steel spider was completely dismembered.
The fight ended faster than expected.
Maria, now limbless along with her frame, lay silently on the ground. Her body began crumbling from the legs upward, turning into drifting black ash.
"James…"
Her eyes were empty as she stared at the gray sky, unconsciously murmuring that name.
A shadow fell over her.
Soren walked up holding the giant blade, expression calm. He had no interest in wasting words.
No matter how tragic she looked now, a monster was still a monster.
He raised the blade with both hands like an executioner knight and was about to drive it down for a quick finish.
But the weapon suddenly became light.
The giant blade made of ash disintegrated, scattering into the wind as gray particles.
At the same time, the steel Otherworld around them began to fade with the blade's disappearance, revealing the restored clear lake water and the wooden boat.
"Alessa?"
Soren called out in his mind. He could still feel the dark energy inside him, but it had gone dormant and become much weaker.
Probably exhausted from forcibly bringing the Otherworld down and manifesting the weapon?
Soren thought for a second, confirmed Alessa wasn't in danger, and stopped worrying.
First things first — finish the job.
In this world, only a thoroughly dead monster was a good monster.
...
Lakeview Hotel.
This building on the shore of Toluca Lake represented warmth and joy in the deepest part of James's memory.
He had once walked the lakeside path with Mary, feeling the evening breeze, and stolen passionate kisses where no one could see…
Now, James trudged heavily down the dilapidated hallway. His green jacket was stained with blood and filth from the battles.
After fighting the hotel's monsters, he had obtained a videotape and the key to Room 312.
The room he and Mary had once stayed in.
James stood in front of the door, staring at the familiar wooden panel. His fingers tightened around the brass key, hesitating.
He felt the fear of returning to a place full of memories, the pain of reliving happy times only to lose them again, and a subconscious resistance to the truth.
A moment later, his eyes grew resolute.
The key slid into the lock and turned.
Click.
The long-sealed door creaked open.
On the left was the bed, on the right the bathroom. Directly facing the entrance was a television and a sofa chair with its back to the door.
Looking at the familiar layout, James's expression went blank. For a second it felt like he had traveled back several years.
The originally dark and moldy air suddenly filled with warm sunlight. A faint scent of perfume lingered.
His beautiful, lively wife Mary was right there in the room, excitedly looking around with bright, sparkling eyes and a smile clearer than the sky outside the window.
But it was only for an instant.
The illusion shattered. The room was still the same dead, silent guest room, wallpaper peeling in large patches and covered in stains.
James forced down the bitterness in his chest, walked to the TV cabinet, and shakily inserted the videotape into the old VCR.
He sat down on the sofa chair.
Static—
The television hadn't turned on yet. The dark screen acted like a mirror, reflecting James's pale, exhausted face.
A moment later, snow flickered across the screen, covering his reflection.
The picture lit up, and the figure that haunted James's dreams appeared.
In the footage, Mary wore her hair in a low ponytail and her favorite pink knit sweater. This was before the illness had ravaged her — her complexion was healthy and rosy.
Watching this, James's eyes instantly welled up with tears.
On-screen Mary noticed the camera.
She looked at the person filming with gentle affection, shyly covering her mouth with her hand and laughing softly. "You're filming again? Alright…"
Mary walked lightly over to the sofa chair by the balcony and sat down. She gazed at the sparkling Toluca Lake outside the window and let out a deep, contented sigh, eyes full of attachment.
"I don't know why, but I just love this place."
"It's so peaceful."
At that point, Mary's gaze shifted toward whoever was holding the camera — as if looking at the James from back then, and somehow across time at the James watching now. She smiled and said:
"You know, I heard this place used to be a sacred site."
"I think I finally understand why."
With that, she sighed again and turned her eyes back to the lake and mountains beyond the balcony.
The once-clear TV image began to flicker horizontally. Mary's figure was repeatedly cut apart.
Mary stood up from the chair and said to the camera with a helpless smile, "It's such a shame we have to leave."
She looked straight at James, eyes pleading. "Promise me you'll bring me back next time, okay?"
Cough… cough…
Accompanied by coughing, the screen went dark.
When the picture returned, the style had completely changed.
The bright, sunlit hotel room was gone, replaced by a dim, oppressive space.
The footage was extremely blurry, full of noise, as if secretly recorded with a stationary camera hidden in a dark corner.
A bed could faintly be seen.
A person lay on it — a gaunt woman with hair like dry straw.
The background audio was no longer Mary's gentle voice, but heavy, suffocating breathing.
The image flashed.
A pair of hands appeared in the frame, holding a pillow.
The sleeves on those arms were dark green — exactly like the jacket James was wearing right now.
Seeing this, James froze as if struck by lightning.
He seemed to realize what was about to happen. He clutched his head, fingers digging into his hair, refusing to look at the TV any longer.
"No… no!!"
But the footage wouldn't stop.
Those hands holding the pillow slowly moved toward the head of the bed,
toward the woman,
and just as the pillow was about to cover her face,
the man's figure paused for a split second.
The next second, the pillow slammed down hard!
"Mmph—!"
The woman under the pillow began struggling violently. Her thin, withered hands slapped and clawed helplessly at the clothes.
It was useless.
Those arms didn't move an inch, pressing the pillow down with deadly force.
Until the struggling on the hospital bed grew weaker… and finally fell silent.
The TV screen began flashing wildly.
The brutal murder scene and Mary's gentle smile from earlier alternated rapidly, overlapping.
The beautiful promise and the cold corpse superimposed on each other.
Static—
The image vanished. The television once again became a black mirror.
In the reflection, James's pupils trembled. Dark circles ringed his eyes, stubble covered his chin, and his expression had completely collapsed.