Dante's POV
Mordo and I talked for a long time, and after some persuasion, he finally let me see the full memories. Processing the sheer weight of it was easier than expected, thanks to my magic amplification runes and heightened stats.
The mental image of me dying thousands of times was more than a little disconcerting, but through the chaos, I saw a pattern—a path through the madness—and it became clear what I had to do.
Cracking my neck, I rose to my feet.
"Where are you going?" Mordo asked. "You've seen what happens if you go down to Limbo."
"You've also seen what happens when I don't," I replied. "We're on borrowed time here. While I've had my attention fixed on Earth, Lauren's been making allies and followers across the galaxy. I need to throw a wrench in her plan if we're going to survive."
Mordo exhaled slowly, the sound halfway between frustration and resignation. "In some ways, you remind me of her—always steady, never hesitating. Silent. Strong. She let the weight of her position crush her. Dante… don't repeat her mistake."
I smiled faintly. "I have every intention not to."
I summoned the Infinity Stone and pictured Limbo in my mind. I already knew where it was, thanks to the thousands of memories I'd absorbed.
Space swelled and folded onto itself, creating a narrow corridor that I slipped through. On the other side lay a world bathed in crimson, shadow, and ghosts.
I emerged in a redwood forest where the trees rose thousands of feet high, their roots carving paths as deep as valleys. The place belonged to an ancient demon clan led by the descendant of an Archdemon—one who had reached the saturation stage of demonic energy control. Normally, that wouldn't have been an issue. But this one possessed an inherited element that was particularly troublesome—and off-world visitors.
Palefyre.
An overly dramatic name for a breath attack that devoured anything it touched—metal, wood, stone, even water. It was especially lethal to living beings. Human, demon, it didn't matter. All it took was a touch or an inhale of the fumes from a powerful enough Dragonoid, and it was game over.
They made the fight with Corvus harder than it needed to be—not because they were particularly hard to kill, but because they kept drip-feeding him souls mid-battle. He used them to wipe out ancient clans he couldn't control and small settlements on the edges of Belasco's territory.
Corvus also used the Palefyre clan's DNA to create one of his tougher Ascendants—Wither. Kevin Ford. I remembered him from the comics. His original mutation allowed him to disintegrate organic matter on contact. Combine that with Palefyre, and you get a walking cataclysm—a living storm of disintegration that erased thousands of acres with a single motion.
Right now, Ford should've been halfway across the world, still recovering from becoming an Ascendant, and the clan would be on a hair-trigger. Someone had abducted a few of their members days ago.
It was a shame I had to wipe them all out.
I sped off into the forest, zeroing in on the first group within my range. They were at the cusp of the condensation stage—capable of forming Palefyre constructs, though not for long or with much stability. Not that they needed finesse when their breath could melt through anything.
The patrol consisted of six men. Four rode massive, spiky salamanders with skin as black as night, chuffing out streams of whitish-black smoke. The riders themselves were dragonoids—segmented natural plates, short snouts, no tails, and claws like blades. The smallest stood over seven feet tall; the largest, over nine. The one leading them on foot radiated authority, wielding a runic blade and shield.
I circled them once, using short-range teleportation, planting several runic discs into the forest floor. They activated with a dull hum, forming a concealment barrier that locked in energy, sound, heat, and light.
I stepped out from behind a tree. They reacted instantly.
"Intruder!" the lead dragonoid screeched.
"Trespasser!" another hissed.
"Capture him," ordered a scepter-wielding dragonoid in the center of the formation. He carried more energy than the others. "The master would like to—"
My Kusarigama flashed out. The sickle tore through his chest, and with a sharp tug, I yanked him off his mount and into my grasp. A thought triggered the mental array on my gauntlet, sending a psychic spike through his consciousness. His eyes rolled back, and I let his unconscious body collapse.
The remaining five attacked immediately. The mounted ones blasted me with thick torrents of Palefyre.
I ripped the Kusarigama free and spun the heavy end in a wide arc. Two amplification runes flared on the weapon, and I funneled wind manipulation into the rotation. The vortex reversed the Palefyre streams, redirecting them into their own ranks.
I sent mind spikes lancing into the remaining riders; they toppled from their mounts. That left me facing two raging dragonoids and a pack of unshackled salamanders, all belching fire and fury.
The dragonoids charged, their bodies cloaked in plates of hardened energy that gleamed like molten armor. One swung a blade at my head; I ducked and slammed the flat of my sickle into his chest, sending him flying into a tree. A salamander came from behind, and I whipped the Kusarigama's heavy end into the monster's head with a spike of Density shift. The impact exploded the creature in a blast of ichor and smoke.
I yanked the chain back, wrapping it around the ankle of the second dragonoid that'd been trying to flank me, and pulled. He flipped through the air, and I struck him with a mind spike before he hit the ground. He fell limp, unconscious.
The salamanders went berserk, spitting Palefyre in every direction, but a spinning wall of wind kept the flames and fumes at bay. With a thought, I extended my telekinesis, wrapped it around their necks, and twisted. The forest fell silent after three sharp snaps.
The fight had been slower than I liked, but it gave me a chance to flex the Kusarigama and test a few things out.
I rifled through their minds, collating memories and extracting every useful detail about their patrols, keywords, and visitors. Then I stumbled upon something that made my stomach tighten.
The treatment of humans and mutants down here was worse than I imagined.
Humans were the lucky ones—kept as servants, scribes, cooks, and entertainment. The mutants were the true currency. Depending on their mutations, they were bred, exploited, or sold. Gladiatorial combat, labor camps, research fodder—it was endless.
The Palefyre clan found humans too weak to keep alive for long; feeding them wasn't worth the cost. But the mutants—especially Alpha and strong Beta-levels—were prime stock. They were transported off-world and sold to the Kree Empire for experimentation.
That was why the off-worlders were here.
And I couldn't let another batch of mutants disappear into some secret lab on another planet.
I had to put an end to all of it—preferably without alerting half the realm in the process.
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