Alright, I'm starting to get a little tired of writing about Grave Encounters. At first, it was fun and creepy, but it's been dragging on and just isn't hitting the same anymore. I feel like the energy's kind of gone, and to be real, I know other movies way better—ones with more action, more intensity, more stuff I can really sink my teeth into. So I think I'm gonna wrap this part of the story up quickly and move on to something that actually excites me again. Just felt like I needed to say that out loud.
If you have any suggestions for which horror movie Dante should be part of next, feel free to leave a comment. I'm always open to cool ideas, especially if there's a villain you think deserves to suffer or to have girls part of the harem.
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[ First person POV ]
It had been hours since TC and I started walking the endless black hallways of this rotting asylum. The only light came from his shoulder-mounted camera and my own flickering device clipped to my belt—barely enough to cut through the suffocating dark. The moment you step outside the camera's beam, it's like falling off the edge of the world. Just shadows. Just silence.
Honestly? It was getting boring.
We'd been wandering in circles. Every hallway looked the same—peeling wallpaper, rusted gurneys, unmarked doors that led to nowhere. Ghostly wails echoed faintly behind the walls, but it felt more like a broken record than a threat. I actually started considering ending this with Hollow Purple.
Yeah. That Hollow Purple.
One of Gojo Satoru's powerful techniques. Red and Blue were child's play. But combining them into something that bends and erases space itself? A bit annoying. Not difficult—just irritating. Still, I figured it out, and it's been in my back pocket ever since. Flashy, overkill... exactly how I like it.
A few spirits had tried to mess with us. Not much—just cheap jump scares. Laughing in the dark. Faces pressed against the lens for a half-second. Pathetic. They actually managed to startle T.C a few times. Dude nearly dropped the camera when a disfigured silhouette skittered past the hallway opening behind us.
"Did you see that?" he whispered, breath shaky.
"I saw it," I said flatly. "It was stupid."
"Bro, that was a ghost!"
I sighed. "That was trash."
Compared to what I've faced? These things were mosquitoes. If they were demons, or even high-tier spirits, maybe I'd enjoy myself. But this was just time-wasting.
I stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to TC.
"Screw this maze. We're making a shortcut."
He blinked, wide-eyed. "Wait, what?"
I clenched my fist and drove it clean through the wall. A thunderous boom echoed as plaster, metal, and bricks exploded outward. The entire hallway shook. Dust sprayed through the beam of TC's camera light, dancing like ash in a spotlight.
"You're insane!!" he shouted out, backing away.
I turned to him, grinning. "You're not wrong."
Reaching into my duffel bag, I pulled out a matte black handgun—standard issue, but with my energy infused into it. The metal shimmered faintly with red runes crawling beneath the surface. I tossed it to him.
"Point. Shoot. Don't lose it."
"Your… gave me a gun?" he asked, stunned.
"Relax. I'm gonna take it back when this is done."
After busting through a few more walls, I suddenly stopped. I felt it—Lance's aura. I'd memorized the energy of everyone in the crew the moment I met them. His was frayed and panicked—exactly how people feel when they know they're gonna get killed.
Without a word, I took off sprinting down the corridor.
"T.C, move!" I barked.
He followed—because what else could he do?
We turned a corner and there he was—Lance, cornered in the dark, back against the wall, camera on the floor and still recording. Spirits circled him like hyenas around a bleeding deer. Whispering. Crawling. Grinning.
I pulled Rebellion from my back and leapt into the fight.
The first ghost lunged—slash. Gone.
The second tried to phase through the wall behind me—stab, twist. Dust.
Another screamed directly into my face. I infused my fist with my mixed energies and punched it followed up with a simple slash that cleaved it in half. Their forms dissolved like mist in firelight.
It was over in seconds.
Lance looked up at me, his mouth trembling he was surprised to see me. "Who… what are you?"
I didn't answer. I tapped his forehead with two fingers and knocked him out cold.
TC stumbled behind me, out of breath. His camera light trembled in his hand.
"Dude… you obliterated them."
"Light work," I said, brushing ghost ash off my coat.
Then T.C saw me knock Lance out and flinched. "Wait, wait—why'd you do that?!"
I turned to him calmly. "Because I don't feel like hearing out A bunch of screaming, crying, and a thousand questions. You and Sasha? You've got The necklaces I gave you that's protecting you and Sasha including Matt. But Lance and Houston?" I shook my head. "They don't have the necklaces so they might get hurt and start to panic, freak out,. This isn't a show anymore."
He blinked. "So what now?"
I slung Rebellion back over my shoulder and started walking.
"We find Sasha and Houston. Grab everything. We're heading to the lobby. Pack up. Get ready to leave."
TC followed, still processing what he just saw.
"And you? What are you gonna do?"
I turned my head slightly, the glow of my eyes catching in the lens.
"I'm going to burn this whole damned place clean."
After the quick cleanup of the spirits and knocking Lance out cold, the hallway fell back into that same heavy silence—the kind that presses against your ears like deep water. TC stood there, wide-eyed, clutching the energy-infused handgun I gave him like it was the last solid thing in this collapsing reality.
I zipped up my duffel bag tight, slinging it back over my shoulder. My eyes flicked toward the endless black ahead of us.
"Alright, TC," I said, voice low but firm. "We're splitting up."
He blinked. "Wait—what? Splitting up? Bro, are you serious?"
"Yeah. You're gonna find Houston. I'll find Sasha."
He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
"You already have the necklace. You're not gonna get hurt. No spirits are gonna touch you, drag you, possess you—nothing. At best, you'll just get a little lost, but trust me, it won't be for long."
He hesitated. Still scared.
I reached into the bag and pulled out another sleek black pistol—etched in arcane markings, glowing faintly with condensed energy. I handed it to him.
"Here. Give this to Houston. Same as the one you've got. 11. energy rounds—just point and pull the trigger. He doesn't have to aim for shit."
T.C looked down at the gun, then back at me.
"What if something tries to—?"
"Shoot it. Then run. Don't ask questions. Don't play hero. Just get to the lobby with him and wait for me. Got it?"
He gave me a slow, reluctant nod. "Got it. But… you sure you'll be okay?"
I smirked, turning away and cracking my neck.
"Bro… I don't get hunted," I said. "I do the hunting."
And with that, I stepped into the dark. My boots echoed faintly against the broken tiles as I walked off, Rebellion humming softly on my back, energy gathering under my skin.
Behind me, T.C adjusted the camera light and took off in the opposite direction, muttering to himself and gripping both guns like lifelines.
I didn't look back.
Time to find Sasha .
After I left TC to find Houston, I took off—using only half of my speed, and still breaking the damn sound barrier. The dark, endless hallways blurred around me. No lights. No signs. Just the sharp rhythm of my footsteps echoing through the blackness and the constant flicker of my senses scanning for Sasha.
She was close. I could feel it.
I pushed a little faster, instincts flaring—then I heard it.
A scream.
Raw. Desperate. Sasha.
I immediately slowed to normal speed, shifting back into a walking pace as I approached the source. I rounded a corner and spotted a heavy steel door. The moment I got close—
SLAM!
The door slammed shut in my face with a metallic bang that echoed through the hall. From the other side, I could hear more screaming. Muffled, panicked.
I didn't even blink.
Deadpan, I lifted my leg and kicked the door straight off its hinges. The metal flew across the room, smashed into the far wall with a violent crash, and crumpled like a beer can.
I stepped inside calmly—Rebellion still strapped to my back, boots crunching over debris.
And there she was.
Sasha was huddled in the far corner of the room, curled into a ball, shaking violently. Her camera had fallen on its side, still recording, its night vision lens catching her in a pale green glow. Her breathing was shallow. Eyes wide. She looked like she was moments away from breaking.
Then she saw me.
She bolted upright and ran straight into my arms, latching onto me like I was the last solid thing in her collapsing world. She held on tight—desperately, wordlessly, her body trembling against mine.
I gently wrapped one arm around her and whispered, calm and steady, "Hey. It's okay. You're good. You're safe now."
I glanced down at her chest and saw it—the necklace. Still glowing faintly with protective energy.
"If you've still got that necklace, then nothing's gonna touch you. I promise. But we have to move. Things are only going to get worse if we stay here."
She didn't respond. Just held on tighter. Her breathing was uneven. I could feel her heart pounding like a drum.
I sighed softly, resting a hand on the back of her head and speaking more gently. "Sasha… I need to get you out of here. You've survived this long. I just need you to let go, okay? Let me get you to the lobby. You'll be safe there."
After a few seconds, she finally nodded, slowly, and released me. Barely. Her arms slipped off like she was letting go of a ledge. She stood shakily, arms wrapping around herself, eyes still wide and staring at the floor.
I crouched down to her level and met her gaze. "Alright. If you're too scared to walk, then get on my back."
She blinked, startled.
"It's faster," I said simply. " You don't have to worry about a thing while you're with me.
She hesitated for just a moment… then stepped forward.
I turned around, and she climbed on, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She clung to me tightly, but I could feel her calming down—just a little. My presence was doing its job.
"Let's go," I muttered, standing tall with her on my back.
And just like that, I walked out of the room with Sasha holding on—while the darkness behind us growled quietly from the shattered door.
[ A few minutes later ]
With Sasha on my back, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and Rebellion now in hand, I moved through the darkened halls at a steady pace.
At first, it was quiet. Too quiet.
Then things got fun.
Objects began to float around us—rusted wheelchairs, broken gurneys, loose bricks, scattered surgical tools—hovering in the stale air before launching themselves at me like some poltergeist's tantrum. Sasha didn't flinch. The protective necklace I gave her pulsed steadily, shielding her from every flying object that came near.
As for me?
My spatial barrier was still active, but honestly… I didn't care. I wanted to move. I was getting bored again.
With Sasha holding onto me tightly, I shifted Rebellion off my back—didn't want it pressing against her—and held it in my free hand. Every time something flew at us, I slashed it in half mid-air with casual, fluid strikes. Debris shattered around us like brittle glass.
The spirits were getting more aggressive—manifesting more clearly now. Shapes. Screams. Shadows. They came rushing at me in waves, shrieking, writhing, clawing at the air like starved animals.
But they weren't demons. They weren't monsters. Just mindless, angry remnants of suffering.
Weak.
I slashed through them as I ran, each strike clean and deliberate. Rebellion hummed with power as it tore through the phantoms like paper, their forms vanishing in flashes of distorted energy. Sasha never said a word—she just held on tightly, trusting me completely.
"Impatient little bastards," I muttered under my breath. "Guess they're mad I'm stealing their victims."
My mind drifted briefly. T.C should have Houston by now, I thought. And Lance—yeah, still knocked out. Not carrying him. Too much work.
As I carved through another cluster of spirits, I grinned slightly. Once this is over, I really need to talk to Mark about building that Devil May Cry website. Gotta get more jobs rolling in.
After a few more turns through the asylum's maze-like halls, I finally burst through a broken set of doors and into the lobby.
It was chaos.
TC and Houston were by the front entrance, desperately trying to break through the sealed asylum doors. Lance was still knocked out nearby, and Matt was frantically packing up the remaining gear, surrounded by half-scattered tripods and toppled cases.
Matt looked up and froze the moment he saw me.
"Dude—what the hell is going on?!" he shouted, rushing over. "What happened to Lance? Why are TC and Houston losing their minds at the door?!"
I stopped in front of him, Rebellion still in my hand, Sasha still clinging to me.
I gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Matt. Breathe. I'll explain everything once we're out of here. For now—forget the cameras. Just pack up what matters and get ready to move. We're leaving. Now."
He blinked, still confused—but he nodded. He could feel the urgency in my voice.
As he went back to gathering equipment, I crouched down and gently helped Sasha off my back. She wobbled slightly, still shaken, eyes wide and distant.
I knelt in front of her, putting a hand on her arm.
"Hey. Look at me."
She did.
"You're safe now. You did good. I'll be right back, okay? We're getting out of here together."
She gave a small nod. Still trembling. Still quiet. But she believed me.
That was enough.
I stood up, gripping Rebellion tight, and walked turned toward the others at the door.
I stood at the center of the lobby, Sasha now safely off my back, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Rebellion in my hand, and a bunch of frightened, traumatized humans staring at me like I was the last hope in a collapsing world.
TC and Houston were still trying to pry open the asylum's main door—the one they remembered entering through hours ago. They were desperate. Panicked.
Matt had been packing what little gear he could salvage, glancing over his shoulder every five seconds like something was about to burst through the walls. Lance, still knocked out cold, lay to the side, deadweight in a warzone. Sasha stood close to the others, her eyes still haunted but fixed on me like I was her anchor.
I exhaled, then raised my voice, calm but sharp.
"Hey. Both of you. Step aside."
TC and Houston stopped what they were doing and looked back at me, confused.
"I wanna show you something," I said, walking toward the door slowly. "Something you didn't want to believe. After that, I'll explain what's going on—and how I'm getting you all out of here."
They moved, clearing the path. My grip on Rebellion tightened.
"Now watch."
Without ceremony, I stepped in front of the rusted, chained door and unleashed a blur of impossibly fast strikes. My blade moved faster than they could see—too fast for even the camera's lens to track. The door groaned, cracked, then fell apart like a crumbling building, disintegrating piece by piece until nothing remained but air and dust.
Behind it… was not the exit.
The moment the others looked beyond the shattered threshold, their expressions changed.
Excitement turned into confusion.
Confusion into fear.
And fear into despair.
TC stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "No… no, that's not possible…"
He stared ahead, eyes wide. "That's the front door… that's where it should be. That's supposed to be the way out. Right? I'm not wrong, right?!"
He looked around for confirmation. Houston was pale, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah… this is it. This is the place. That's the exit. The same chains. Same markings—'Death Awaits'—this is the damn door."
They both stepped back as the reality sank in.
This place wasn't letting them go.
I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "Calm down."
They looked at me—panicked, lost.
"This is exactly what the asylum wants," I said. "It wants you to lose it. It wants you to go insane from fear. Don't."
I stepped forward again, voice firmer now. "You're still alive. I protected you for a reason. You're not broken—just scared. But I'm here. And I'm your way out of this nightmare. Got it?"
They looked at me—really looked this time. Fear still in their eyes, but now there was something else: hope.
"Now," I continued, lifting one hand slowly, "everyone take a step back."
They obeyed without question.
I took a breath. Lifted my right hand—Reversal: Red began forming in my palm, crackling with chaotic energy. My left hand, open and calm—Lapse: Blue gathered in the center like a growing sinkhole of compressed space. The very air around me began to distort.
I brought the two together.
The moment the opposing forces collided, space rippled violently. My right hand dropped, and I aimed forward with my left. A small, dense orb began glowing at my fingertip, purplish light flickering like a miniature sun, expanding fast.
My smirk returned.
"Hollow Purple," I muttered under my breath.
The orb launched down the cursed hallway like a cannon shot from the gods. As it moved, it expanded—howling like a vortex. The entire building shook. The walls twisted and cracked as the energy surged past, obliterating everything in its path.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
Entire sections of the hallway were swallowed and torn from existence. Then—suddenly—it hit something invisible. A resistance. Like a veil. An unseen wall.
The orb pushed against it, shrieking with pressure… and then—CRACK.
A spiderweb of energy fractured through the air, and the barrier shattered like brittle glass.
Outside light poured in.
But the world was still dark. Like time hadn't moved. The night hadn't ended.
I lowered my hand, exhaling slowly as the glow faded. Behind me, the others were silent. Shocked. Frozen.
Matt just stared at the destruction, his voice caught in his throat.
Lance? Still unconscious.
Rebellion went back onto my back with a smooth motion, and I adjusted the duffel bag over my shoulder.
I sighed. "Alright. Everybody move."
My voice snapped them out of it.
"Get out. Now. Matt, pack whatever you've got. Leave the cameras. We'll grab them later. Just move."
TC and Houston nodded and immediately rushed to Lance, lifting his limp form between them.
Matt scrambled to finish collecting the rest of the gear—some lights, their bags, food packs. Cameras still scattered across the asylum were left behind. No time. He knew that now.
Sasha followed closely behind TC and Houston, still holding tightly to the protective necklace like it was a lifeline.
Matt was the last to exit, looking back over his shoulder at the half-destroyed building one last time. Then he vanished through the broken exit with the rest.
I stood alone in the middle of the destroyed lobby, looking around at the carnage. Hollow Purple had torn through the asylum like divine judgment.
Glass cracked under my boot as I shifted my stance, muttering to myself.
"Yeah… I don't think I'm turning in those cameras. I think I'll go with something a little more grand this time."
I stood at the center of the lobby, Sasha now safely off my back, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Rebellion in my hand, and a bunch of frightened, traumatized humans staring at me like I was the last hope in a collapsing world.
TC and Houston were still trying to pry open the asylum's main door—the one they remembered entering through hours ago. They were desperate. Panicked.
Matt had been packing what little gear he could salvage, glancing over his shoulder every five seconds like something was about to burst through the walls. Lance, still knocked out cold, lay to the side, deadweight in a warzone. Sasha stood close to the others, her eyes still haunted but fixed on me like I was her anchor.
I exhaled, then raised my voice, calm but sharp.
"Hey. Both of you. Step aside."
TC and Houston stopped what they were doing and looked back at me, confused.
"I wanna show you something," I said, walking toward the door slowly. "Something you didn't want to believe. After that, I'll explain what's going on—and show you how I'm getting you all out of here."
They moved, clearing the path. My grip on Rebellion tightened.
"Now watch."
Without ceremony, I stepped in front of the rusted, chained door and unleashed a blur of impossibly fast strikes. My blade moved faster than they could see—too fast for even the camera's lens to track. The door groaned, cracked, then fell apart like a crumbling building, disintegrating piece by piece until nothing remained but air and dust.
Behind it… was not the exit.
The moment the others looked beyond the shattered threshold, their expressions changed.
Excitement turned into confusion.
Confusion into fear.
And fear into despair.
TC stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "No… no, that's not possible…"
He stared ahead, eyes wide. "That's the front door… that's where it should be. That's supposed to be the way out. Right? I'm not wrong, right?!"
He looked around for confirmation. Houston was pale, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah… this is it. This is the place. That's the exit. The same chains. Same markings—'Death Awaits'—this is the damn door."
They both stepped back as the reality sank in.
This place wasn't letting them go.
I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "Calm down."
They looked at me—panicked, lost.
"This is exactly what the asylum wants," I said. "It wants you to lose it. It wants you to go insane from fear. Don't."
I stepped forward again, voice firmer now. "You're still alive. I'm here to protect all of you. You're not broken—just scared. But I'm here. And I'm your way out of this nightmare. Got it?"
They looked at me—really looked this time. Fear still in their eyes, but now there was something else: hope.
"Now," I continued, lifting one hand slowly, "everyone, get behind me now."
They obeyed without question.
I took a breath. Lifted my right hand—Reversal: Red began forming in my palm, crackling with chaotic energy. My left hand, open and calm—Lapse: Blue gathered in the center like a growing sinkhole of compressed space. The very air around me began to distort.
I brought the two together.
The moment the opposing forces collided, space rippled violently. My right hand dropped, and I aimed forward with my left. A small, dense orb began glowing at my fingertip, purplish light flickering like a miniature sun, expanding fast.
My smirk returned.
"Hollow Purple," I muttered under my breath.
The orb launched down the cursed hallway like a cannon shot from the gods. As it moved, it expanded—howling like a vortex. The entire building shook. The walls twisted and cracked as the energy surged past, obliterating everything in its path.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
Entire sections of the hallway were swallowed and torn from existence. Then—suddenly—it hit something invisible. A resistance. Like a veil. An unseen wall.
The orb pushed against it, shrieking with a little pressure… and then—CRACK.
A spiderweb of energy fractured through the air, and the wall of this dimension shattered like brittle glass.
Outside light poured in.
But the world was still dark. Like time hadn't moved. The night hadn't ended.
I lowered my hand, exhaling slowly as the glow faded. Behind me, the others were silent. Shocked. Frozen.
Matt just stared at the destruction, his voice caught in his throat.
Lance? Still unconscious.
Rebellion went back onto my back with a smooth motion, and I adjusted the duffel bag over my shoulder.
I sighed. "Alright. Everybody move."
My voice snapped them out of it.
"Get out. Now. Matt, pack whatever you've got. Leave the cameras. You'll get them back later. Just move."
TC and Houston nodded and immediately rushed to Lance, lifting his limp form between them.
Matt scrambled to finish collecting the rest of the gear—some lights, their bags, food packs. Cameras still scattered across the asylum were left behind. No time. He knew that now.
Sasha followed closely behind TC and Houston, still holding tightly to the protective necklace like it was a lifeline.
Matt was the last to exit, looking back over his shoulder at the half-destroyed building one last time. Then he vanished through the broken exit with the rest.
I stood alone in the middle of the destroyed lobby, looking around at the carnage. Hollow Purple had torn through the asylum.
Glass cracked under my boot as I shifted my stance, muttering to myself.
" well, I should finish this now."
Once the others were gone and the lobby had gone quiet, I knelt down in the center of the shattered floor. Dust swirled around me, the cracked remains of my energy lingering in the air like fog after a war.
I placed my palm flat against the cold, broken tiles.
A deep hum resonated from within me, and I unleashed a powerful burst of energy into the ground—an eruption I crafted myself. A fusion of systems from across the multiverse: chakra, ki, cursed energy, demonic power, and even a bit of holy essence for balance.
The energy surged outward in every direction, invisible to most, but I could feel it—sweeping through the asylum like a holy firestorm laced with chaos. Every residual spirit, every lingering fragment of corrupted energy, every demonic parasite still clinging to this place—gone.
Exorcised.
Purged.
Erased.
"Done," I muttered, standing up and flexing my fingers. "Guess that's my version of a cleanse."
I looked around the hollowed-out lobby. This place was a corpse now. But I wasn't done yet.
Can't leave any doubt.
I turned and sprinted through the building, moving at speeds that left afterimages. I retrieved every camera—every single one I placed during this disaster. My memory was perfect, and my speed even better. One by one, I yanked them down, shoved them into my duffel bag, and zipped it up tight.
All accounted for.
Now for the finale.
I reached into a hidden side compartment of the bag and pulled out a grenade.
Not just any grenade.
One I made myself.
Designed with a specific purpose: to annihilate anything supernatural or physical in its radius. It didn't just destroy. It erased—absolutely everything. A spiritual, magical, dimensional clean sweep.
Truth is… I never tested it. I had no idea how big the blast radius really was.
But hey. That's future me's problem.
I walked back to the destroyed entrance of the asylum, stepping through the rubble. The wind outside was cold.
I stopped.
Pulled the pin.
And without looking back, I tossed the grenade over my shoulder into the heart of the asylum.
I whistled casually, striding over to where I parked my motorcycle—matte black, sleek, reinforced, custom-built for speed and style. I mounted it, kicked the engine to life, and took one final glance back at the cursed place.
"Better safe than sorry."
I twisted the throttle and blasted off down the road, wind slicing past me like knives as I disappeared into the darkness—hoping the blast radius wouldn't level the entire damn town.
…But honestly, if it did?
That place deserved it.
[ Meanwhile, in the lobby of the asylum ]
The grenade landed in the center of the ruined asylum and began to emit a slow, rhythmic beep. Moments later, it detonated—unleashing a blinding explosion of raw, supernatural energy. The blast didn't just destroy the asylum—it erased it. Every brick, every shadowy hallway, every hidden tunnel, and even the secret underground office where Dr. Freakines once performed his twisted experiments—all of it vanished in an instant. Eighty acres of cursed ground were reduced to silence and ash. Nothing remained. Not even a memory.
[ Back to Dante ]
"Yeah… that's right. I destroyed the place. But not before I purified it."
Dante leaned against a cracked concrete wall beside his parked motorcycle, just outside the hotel lot Mark had rented for him when this job started. The night was quiet now. No more screams. No cursed air. Just the low hum of the engine cooling beside him.
He held his phone to his ear, speaking casually.
"I'm pretty damn sure nothing survived in that building. No ghosts, no demons, not even dust. But you know me, Mark—I like to be thorough. So yeah… I blew it up with my custom grenade."
There was a short pause on the other end before Mark's voice came through—cool, measured, but with a hint of worry.
"You what? …Wait—just how powerful was this thing?"
"I didn't check," Dante replied, shrugging with a grin. "Didn't test it. Just kinda… threw it."
"Of course you did," Mark sighed.
Then, in a more serious tone, "What about the group? Are they all still alive? Just checking, Dante—because I know how you get when you're in the zone. And let's be honest, sometimes that means a little… collateral damage."
Dante chuckled.
"Relax, bro. They're all alive. Physically? Fine. Mentally? Ehh… Let's just say they're not okay up there. I mean, they survived a cursed asylum that was warping reality and feeding off their sanity. If I hadn't shown up, they'd probably still be trapped in that quasi-dimension until they snapped or starved."
Mark was quiet for a moment, then spoke again—this time with amusement in his voice.
"You know… that whole quasi-dimensional pocket you mentioned inside the asylum? Didn't believe it at first. But even if you had told me right when this started, I still wouldn't have worried."
"Oh yeah?" Dante raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," Mark replied. "Because I know you. And if anyone's walking out of a reality-warping death trap alive—dragging people behind them—it's you."
Dante smirked. "Exactly. Who are you talking to?"
There was a pause before Dante continued, switching gears.
"By the way, I was thinking—maybe it's time you built a proper website for us. You know, 'Devil May Cry' needs more exposure. More jobs, more clients. You'd get more people to help out too."
Mark's voice on the other end was cool and confident. "Already did it."
Dante blinked. "Wait, what?"
"I started working on it when this job kicked off. I figured finding gigs the old-school way would be slow, so I built the site myself. And yes, I added the flair you'd want. Your name, your gear, your skills. And a few 'specialty services' you'd probably shout at me for not including."
Dante pushed off the wall, intrigued now.
"Send me the link."
"No need," Mark said, chuckling. "Search it. See for yourself."
Dante opened his phone, thumb moving fast as he typed:
Devil May Cry – Official Site.
It popped up instantly. Clean layout. Dark theme. Bold red logo.
He tapped it.
What he saw made his eyes light up.
The homepage hit hard—dynamic animations, active job listings, and services ranging from detective work and missing persons cases to revenge contracts, demon hunting, the paranormal, cursed object or person removal, and the elimination of any supernatural threat.
His grin widened into something dangerous and excited.
"Ohhh… damn, Mark. You nailed this."
"I figured you'd like it," Mark replied, cool as ever. "Now all we need is a good tagline."
Dante's voice dropped low, proud and cocky.
"How about: 'If it bleeds, curses, or cries for hell—we end it.'"
Mark snorted. "I'll write that down."
"Anyway, I'll talk to you later, Mark. I gotta finish setting up the building," Dante said, his voice laced with mild annoyance. "Now that I've actually got a name for the place, I still haven't unpacked everything since I moved in."
"Yeah, I figured," Mark replied, dryly amused. "I saw the mess. You've got boxes everywhere. You didn't even bother hanging up your posters, and some of your custom-made guns and swords are just lying around like paperweights. I mean, come on, man—show some respect for your weapons."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Dante muttered. "Anyway, I'll call you later. Once I'm done unpacking, you can swing by and check the place out."
"Cool. See you later, Dante," Mark said before hanging up.
Dante sighed, slipped his phone into his pocket, and ran a hand through his hair.
"I should've asked him to check me out of this hotel…" he muttered. Then he shrugged with a smirk. "Eh—whatever. The hotel can check itself out."
He tightened his grip on the duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and climbed onto his motorcycle. With one smooth motion, he revved the engine, kicked up the stand, and peeled out of the lot—riding off into the night.
Destination: New York.
Home.
Back to the building now officially named—Devil May Cry.
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This chapter might've felt a little rushed, but I really wanted to wrap up this part of the story. Still, I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you did, drop some feedback—let me know what you liked, what didn't work for you, and feel free to throw me some Power Stones while you're at it!
[ Image of the grenade ]
[ Chapter End ]