[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Outskirts]
("Not long now…")
The thought surfaced with calmness rather than hope.
Dante leaped back just as one of Cerberus's separated bodies threw its head skyward and howled. Black flames erupted from its jaws, a violent surge that tore across the ground toward him. The fire did not merely scorch—it liquefied stone, leaving the earth sagging and bubbling in its wake. Dante twisted aside at the last instant, coat flaring with the motion as heat washed past him.
The flaming hound charged immediately after its attack, jaws snapping savagely. Dante shifted again, narrowly avoiding the bite as it tore through empty air. Pain flared violently through his mangled left arm—white-hot and immediate—but he dismissed it without ceremony. Pain was noise. He had long since learned to fight through noise.
Another presence pressed in.
