Ulysses Bloodstone's POV
Darkness pulsed inside the chamber like a living thing.
Ulysses Bloodstone stood before the cracked monolith, his breath misting in the chill that clung to the air. The tower wasn't of this world — its stone hummed with a rhythm that matched the beat of his own heart, the Bloodgem in his chest pulsing in time.
Every throb sent fire through his veins. Once, he had thought it pain. Now, it felt like purpose.
He gazed up at the runes spiraling along the wall, whispering the old tongue he had deciphered over decades of obsession. The words burned against his throat as he spoke them, but he didn't stop. Each verse peeled back another layer of reality.
He had tried to silence it once — locked himself away, drowned it in prayer, in wine, in the screams of the monsters he killed. But the voice always returned. Always patient. Always waiting.
And tonight, it spoke clearly.
…You've done well, Ulysses…
The tone was the same one that had cracked him through every sleepless night — velvet, familiar, endlessly persuasive. He didn't even flinch anymore.
"I was wondering when you'd come back," he murmured.
…I never left…
…You've simply learned to listen…
He smiled faintly, the expression brittle. "Then tell me, old friend… what do you see when you look at me now?"
…A man who remembers what he was before men existed…
The words struck a chord deep in his bones, echoing through him like a heartbeat. He had heard that exact phrase once before, long ago — when the gem first fused with him, when its light had carved through his flesh and branded his soul.
"Sparda sealed the gates," Ulysses said slowly, as if repeating a memory not his own. "He feared his strength."
…He feared nothing… the whisper corrected. …He simply forgot. Sparda was no man. He was devil — pure and true. But he caught their sickness… their empathy…
The voice hardened. …He mistook pity for wisdom. You, Ulysses, will not make that mistake…
The Bloodgem flared, veins of light crawling up his neck. "Then tell me what he hid. Tell me what even he feared."
…He feared the door… the whisper said, smooth and certain. …The gate to what lies beneath all worlds. He locked it with his sword, broke the key, scattered it — but pieces remain…
Ulysses turned toward the altar where the shard of Force Edge lay gleaming in red light. He had spent half his life searching for it — but only now did he feel he truly understood its purpose.
…You hold one fragment… the voice crooned. …One-third of the seal. The Bloodgem gives you another. Only one ingredient remains to open the crack — blood…
"Blood?"
…The purest kind. The blood of innocence — a virgin heart to beckon the light…
…And the blood of the betrayer's line — Sparda's own flesh to unbind the dark…
Ulysses's expression didn't waver. He had expected this. Perhaps, deep down, he had always known.
…You see now why fate placed your daughter and the devil's son in your path… the whisper said. …Their blood will unmake the veil. Purity and corruption — the twin veins of creation itself…
The Bloodgem pulsed so hard he could feel it rattling his ribs. The voice filled the room, threading through the walls, through his bones, through his thoughts.
…Do it, Ulysses… and you will be the most powerful being on this planet. No man or devil will stop you…
He exhaled slowly, staring into the shard's reflection — his face flickering between flesh and shadow.
The power he had always longed for. The envy he had felt for the Sparda bloodline. He could almost reach out for it.
New York City – Base of the Tower
The Bloodhound tore down the road like a beast unchained, tires screaming against broken asphalt. Smoke and ash rolled over the skyline — New York's heart swallowed in unnatural fire.
Dante leaned out the passenger window, both pistols in hand, unloading bursts of hellfire into a swarm of winged creatures overhead. Each bullet exploded into a spray of burning embers, shredding through blackened wings and bone.
One of the demons slammed into the windshield. Elsa didn't even flinch. She jerked the wheel, smashing through it, the wipers dragging gore across the glass.
"Gotta say," Dante called over the roar of the engine, "New York's really gone to hell tonight."
Elsa shot him a sideways glare. "Save the jokes for when we're not being dive-bombed by nightmares."
Matteo sat behind them, murmuring prayers under his breath. A rosary glowed faintly in his hands — each bead etched with protective sigils. "These aren't from Hell," he said quietly. "Not yet. They're echoes — pieces of something breaking through."
As if on cue, the air shimmered. A tremor ran through the street, cracking asphalt like ice on a frozen lake. Buildings along the avenue rippled, their shapes warping — windows bending like glass under heat, streetlights flickering into shapes that weren't quite real.
Dante holstered one pistol, gripping the dashboard. "That didn't look like an earthquake."
"It's not," Matteo said, his voice grim. "Something's forcing its way through the Veil."
Elsa gunned the accelerator, the Bloodhound leaping over a crater. "Then we'd better find out who's doing the forcing."
The tower was no longer just a shadow on the horizon — it was alive, glowing from within, veins of crimson and green light crawling up its sides. Thunder rolled, but the clouds weren't moving; they were twisting, spiraling around the tower like a storm frozen in time.
Elsa's knuckles whitened on the wheel. "We're close."
Dante cracked a grin, loading fresh rounds into Ebony and Ivory. "Good. I was starting to get bored."
But Matteo wasn't smiling. He could feel it — the air itself shuddering, like the world's heartbeat had skipped. The prayers he whispered began to falter.
"Dante," he said quietly. "Whatever happens in there — whatever you learn — please don't hate your mother for the secret she kept. She only wanted to protect you."
Dante looked at him, confusion flickering across his face, but before he could speak, Elsa slammed the brakes — the world ahead of them cracking open in a surge of crimson light.
The Bloodhound screeched sideways as the road split open beneath them. Crimson light burst through the asphalt, swirling into a vortex that sucked the air from their lungs.
"Hold on!" Elsa shouted, but the sound vanished under the roar.
The street exploded upward — a column of light tearing into the sky.
Dante felt gravity twist. The Bloodhound lifted off the ground, spinning, the world around them bending like glass underwater. His hands slipped from the door as the shockwave hit.
"Matteo! Elsa—!"
The rest was light and noise.
He hit the ground hard, the breath ripped from his chest. The air was thick and wet, humming with energy. He coughed, dragging himself upright.
The Tower loomed above him — impossibly vast, its architecture warping and reforming as he watched. Walls bled into floors, staircases curved into nothing, and crimson veins pulsed along the stone like arteries.
He was inside.
And the Tower had been waiting for him.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Alright, challenge time! If you guys can hit 50 power stones, I'll drop another chapter. Let's see if you can make it happen—good luck out there! 😎🔥