The Tower of Limbo – Dante's POV
He was inside.
And the Tower was alive.
The air pulsed with a steady rhythm — a heartbeat that wasn't his own. Crimson veins crawled across the black walls, dripping molten light into cracks that spiraled endlessly upward. The entire structure breathed, shifting and rearranging itself like some great organism studying its prey.
Dante rolled his shoulders, letting out a low whistle. "Home sweet hell."
He drew Rebellion, its edge gleaming faintly red in the Tower's glow. The blade felt heavier here — like it was remembering something he wasn't supposed to.
A whisper trailed along the walls.
…Sparda's son…
…blood calls to blood…
"Yeah, yeah, heard that one before," he muttered. "Fan club's getting old."
The shadows ahead twisted. Cultists crawled from the cracks, their robes slick with blood, chanting in broken tongues. One raised a dagger and plunged it into his own chest. The scream that followed wasn't human — his body tore apart midair, reforming into a demon with burning eyes and claws made of bone.
Dante smirked. "Guess I'm doing this solo."
He lunged. Rebellion flashed, carving through the first wave in a blur of steel and fire. He fired Ebony and Ivory between swings — twin streams of hellfire rounds that tore through the air like thunder. Each kill exploded into crimson mist that was quickly absorbed by the Tower's walls, feeding it.
Dante twirled a pistol and grinned. "Alright, now you're just showing off."
But the Tower wasn't done. The floor buckled. A wall split open, birthing a creature twice his height — wings made of glass, eyes glowing like coals. It screeched and dove, talons slamming where he stood a second earlier.
Dante ducked low, sliding under it, firing both pistols upward in perfect rhythm. Each shot cracked like thunder, molten shards raining down. The creature roared, wings cracking, tail lashing. Dante leapt, twisting midair, Rebellion glowing red as it came down in a clean, explosive arc.
The blade cleaved through the monster, splitting it in two. It hit the ground in a burst of fire and glass. Silence followed.
Dante landed, guns still smoking, breath steady. For a second, something electric pulsed through him — instinct, thrill, maybe destiny.
He smirked.
"Jackpot."
Elsewhere – Elsa's POV
She hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her ribs. The world swam before snapping into focus. Her section of the Tower was colder — veins of blue light running through black stone, air thick with frost and dust. Chains hung from the ceiling, swaying on their own.
Elsa groaned, rolling to her feet. "Matteo? Dante?"
No answer. Just the clinking of metal and the faint, distant hum of energy.
She drew her pistol, checking the chamber. "Figures."
Something moved in the dark.
A figure stepped out — a man once human, now something else. His skin was pale and cracked, like marble, with eyes glowing faintly with a blue light. Symbols crawled across his arms like living scars.
"Welcome, Bloodstone," he rasped. "You walk in your father's shadow."
Elsa raised her gun, cocking it with a sharp click. "You really don't want to finish that sentence."
The figure smiled. "You cannot run from blood."
"Maybe not," she said, holstering her pistol. "But I can burn it."
In one smooth motion, she reached behind her coat — twin sawed-off shotguns snapping into her hands. The first blast tore through his shoulder; the second shattered his jaw in a cloud of blue ash.
He didn't fall. Chains slithered from the darkness, wrapping around her arms and waist, dragging her backward. Elsa gritted her teeth, planting one boot and firing both barrels point-blank. The recoil blew her free, sending her rolling across the floor.
She came up on one knee, pulling a collapsible grenade launcher from her thigh rig. "Fine. Let's make it loud."
She fired three rounds in quick succession — concussive, incendiary, and flash-burst. The explosions lit the chamber in rapid pulses, painting her silhouette in alternating orange and white.
When the smoke cleared, the creature was still standing, half its body torn away, chains reforming like liquid steel.
"Persistent bastard," she hissed, sliding the launcher back and drawing a massive revolver — the kind that could break bones with recoil alone.
One pull of the trigger sent a glowing round through the creature's chest. The shot carried faint Bloodgem resonance — Matteo's blessing still clinging to the bullet.
The monster staggered, howling, runes on its body flaring — and that's when Elsa reached behind her back. The rocket launcher slid into place with a satisfying click.
"Smile."
The rocket hit dead center; the explosion consumed the entire chamber in flames.
When the dust settled, she stood amid the wreckage — hair singed, coat tattered, smoke curling from the launcher's barrel. The creature was gone, reduced to ash that seeped into the Tower's veins like blood into a wound.
Elsa lowered the weapon, exhaling through her teeth. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
Mid-Level Chamber – The Tower of Limbo
The Tower shifted again.
Stone moaned like bone, walls grinding and reshaping until the corridor opened into a vast chamber. The floor was a maze of bridges and ledges suspended over molten red light. Chains hung from above, stretching endlessly into the dark, each one pulsing faintly like veins.
Elsa stepped cautiously onto the nearest bridge, the echo of her boots swallowed by the roar below. Her launcher hung heavy against her back, and her sidearm was slick with heat.
"Still no sign of them," she muttered under her breath, eyes scanning the endless vertical abyss.
Then came the chanting — low, rhythmic, growing louder.
Figures emerged from the far side of the bridge, hooded and trembling, their flesh covered in glowing sigils. Blood dripped from open palms, pooling at their feet as they swayed in unison. The stench of iron filled the air.
Elsa sighed, sliding her pistol free. "Of course."
Before she could take aim, the ceiling exploded.
Shards of black stone rained down, scattering the cultists. Something massive crashed through the dust — a silhouette riding a slab of falling debris like a surfboard. It landed hard, cracking the bridge in two.
When the smoke cleared, Dante stood there, Rebellion resting over his shoulder, coat still smoldering.
He grinned. "Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?"
Elsa blinked once. "You broke the ceiling."
He shrugged, twirling his sword once. "Yeah, but I made an entrance."
The cultists' chanting turned into screams. They plunged their daggers into their chests, blood igniting like molten glass. Demons ripped free from their bodies — twisted shapes with skull masks and fire bleeding from their joints.
Elsa groaned. "Great. You brought company."
"Guess they missed me too," Dante said, drawing Ebony and Ivory.
The bridge split again under the impact as the demons charged. Dante moved first, sprinting straight into the horde, spinning Rebellion in a wide arc that tore through the first two. Blood and fire sprayed upward, absorbed immediately by the Tower's walls.
Elsa fired from behind, her bullets sharp and clean, each one punching through a demon's head. She barely had to aim — she was surgical. But Dante… Dante fought like a storm.
He kicked off one demon's shoulder, firing both pistols midair, each shot in perfect rhythm. The recoil carried him backward into a flip; he landed behind another creature and cleaved it in half before it could turn.
Elsa caught herself watching — just for a second — before another cultist lunged. She pivoted, shot him twice, then muttered, "Show-off."
Dante's grin widened. "You're welcome."
"Don't flatter yourself. You're still in my line of fire."
"Then shoot straighter," he said, ducking just as one of her bullets zipped past his ear and took out the demon behind him.
"See?" he added. "Teamwork."
She rolled her eyes and reloaded, switching to her shotgun. The next blast blew a cluster of enemies off the bridge, their bodies falling into the molten glow below.
"Keep your head down!" she shouted.
"I don't do 'down,'" he quipped, charging forward.
One of the larger demons — a brute covered in molten plates — swung a hammer the size of a car engine. Dante ducked under it, kicked upward, and slammed Rebellion through its stomach. The creature roared, and Dante pulled the trigger built into the sword's hilt, firing a pulse of red energy that tore it apart from within.
Elsa shielded her face from the blast, then snapped, "You trying to bring the whole place down?"
He turned, eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. "Not my fault Hell doesn't build to code."
She fired past him, taking down another winged demon before it could flank him. For the first time, she didn't bark another order — she just nodded once.
The last cultist screamed and lunged, dagger raised. Dante caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and drove his head into the wall. The body crumpled.
Silence returned — broken only by the low hum of the Tower's heartbeat.
Dante sheathed Rebellion and blew imaginary smoke off his pistols. "See? Easy."
Elsa holstered her gun, scanning the dark with wary eyes. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you by accident."
He smirked. "Accident? Or instinct?"
She ignored him, stepping toward the next bridge as it began to extend on its own, the stone rearranging like gears in motion. The Tower was opening a path for them.
"Let's move," she said curtly.
Dante followed, boots echoing against the stone. "You know, I think we're starting to click."
"Don't push it," she replied, not looking back.
The bridge rumbled beneath their feet, the Tower's heartbeat growing louder — slow, deliberate, almost expectant.
Far above them, the walls shifted, veins of green light crawling like serpents toward the heart of the spire.
The Tower wasn't done with them yet.