Dante paced back and forth, his boots tapping a restless rhythm against the wooden floor. His mind spun with everything the Trickster had told him—the truth, the lies, the twisted in-between. He clenched his fists, inhaling sharply.
"So, that's it?" he muttered. "That about sums it up?"
"Pretty much," the Trickster said, lounging in the air like a man without a care. "Could've used a bit more dramatic flair, but you get the gist."
Dante shot him a glare. "You think this is funny? No one's ever survived two gods inside them. No human can take that."
The Trickster yawned, clearly unimpressed. "You're not human, kid. Not fully."
Dante stopped dead. The words hung in the air, heavier than he could process.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His voice was low, dangerous.
The Trickster just grinned, tilting his head. "C'mon, Dante. I gave you the riddle. You really gonna make me spell it out?"
Dante narrowed his eyes, but the answer was already clawing its way into his mind. Pieces of the past slammed together—the riddle, the strange pull he felt toward the Trickster, the power that had always lurked beneath his skin like a caged beast.
"You…" He took a step back. "No. That—That's impossible."
The Trickster chuckled. "Is it? You ever wonder why I took an interest in you? Why your abilities don't work like a normal cursed man's?"
Dante shook his head, trying to deny it, but the Trickster was already sending the truth straight into his brain. Images flashed before his eyes. A woman in the dark, a god's laughter, a child born with a fate already sealed.
His stomach twisted.
"I'm your ancestor," the Trickster said, stretching like he hadn't just shattered Dante's entire reality. "Well, one of 'em. A few generations back, give or take."
Dante felt sick. His breathing was ragged. His fists trembled.
"You…" His voice cracked. "You could've told me this before!"
The Trickster shrugged. "Would you have believed me?"
Before Dante could respond, a voice cut through the tension.
"Lirian!"
He spun on his heel. A girl, younger than him but with the wide, obsessed eyes of someone who lived in her own reality, stood in the doorway.
Dante's blood ran cold.
She knew Lirian.
No, she worshipped him.
"Did you forget?" she asked, tilting her head with a disturbingly sweet smile. "The royal tournament starts soon. And your name is already on the list."
Dante stiffened. He had no intention of fighting. Not as Lirian. Not for some damn bloodsport.
"Erase my name," he said flatly, trying to dismiss her. "I'm not fighting."
The girl didn't move. Her smile twitched. "But you have to fight," she whispered. "You said you would. You promised."
Dante's patience snapped. "I don't give a damn what Lirian promised."
Her smile shattered. Her breathing quickened. Dante took a step back, realizing his mistake—he'd spoken as if he weren't Lirian.
But before she could react, the Trickster's voice hummed in his head.
"We need something."
Dante scowled. "What?"
"The seal," the Trickster said, suddenly serious. "The one locking away your real power? We need a ritual to break it. And the first thing we need…"
Dante felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"Blood," the Trickster finished.
Dante exhaled sharply. "Fine. Take mine."
The Trickster shook his head. "You're not human. We need full human blood."
Dante's stomach sank.
"Where the hell are we supposed to get that?"
The Trickster smirked.
And that's when it clicked.
Dante's breath caught. His hands clenched.
The tournament.
A bloodbath. A fight to the death.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
"You want me to kill someone," he whispered.
The Trickster just smiled.
Dante stared at the girl in front of him, the one who thought Lirian was still alive, still hers to follow. She had no idea she was talking to a dead man's shadow.
And now, he was about to step into his tournament.
For blood.
For power.
For the truth buried in his cursed veins.
The seal had to break.
And Dante would do whatever it took.
——
A meaty fist swung at Dante's head. He ducked just in time, feeling the wind from the punch graze his hair. His opponent, a towering brute with muscles stacked like bricks, let out a cocky laugh.
"Come on, Lirian! Is this all ya got?!" the man bellowed, cracking his knuckles. "You're nothin' but a twig!"
Dante exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. This guy was big, but big didn't mean unbeatable. He just had to break him down piece by piece.
The moment the brute charged again, Dante sidestepped, landing a sharp kick to the side of his knee. The man grunted but barely staggered.
"Alright, Sound God, a little help?"
"You rang?"
Suddenly, Dante's movements felt lighter, his reflexes sharper. His body thrummed with newfound speed, his heartbeat syncing with an unfamiliar rhythm.
"Ohh, tension!" the Sound God chimed, his voice playful.
Dante swore as the brute grabbed his arm, yanking him forward. He twisted mid-air, using the momentum to drive his knee into the man's chin.
"Trickster, why do we need the Sound God again?"
"I have a contract with him," the Trickster answered casually. "He owes me a favor, and I intend to collect."
"That's it?" Dante gritted his teeth, narrowly dodging another blow.
"Also," the Trickster added, "he's my best godfriend, and I couldn't just let his blood rot."
"Aww, you soft bastard," the Sound God teased.
Dante scowled but didn't have time to argue. The brute came at him again, swinging with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. This time, Dante let him.
Right before impact, he flickered.
The illusion settled in an instant. To the crowd, it looked like the brute had been obliterated—blood sprayed, a lifeless body collapsed.
But in reality?
The guy was unconscious on the ground, snoring peacefully.
Dante grabbed him by the ankle and turned to the stunned audience. "I'll, uh… take care of the body myself."
The announcer stammered. "B-But the guards—"
"No need!" Dante grinned, already dragging the man away. "It's a personal thing."
The guards looked at each other, shrugged, and let him go.
Dante dumped the unconscious brute onto the floor of Lirian's house.
Lirian's parents were never home, and he didn't have siblings. Perfect.
"Alright, what now?" Dante muttered.
"Blood circle," the Trickster instructed.
Dante sighed, pulling out a knife. He pricked the brute's arm and let the blood drip onto the floor, following the intricate patterns the Trickster described.
"You know," Dante said as he worked, "this is insanely illegal."
"What isn't?" the Trickster said lazily.
Once the diagram was complete, the Trickster hummed in satisfaction. "Alright, send him back now."
Dante clapped his hands together, activating the teleportation spell.
A moment later, the brute vanished in a puff of magic.
Back at the arena, the poor guy woke up in the middle of the sandpit, confused and groggy, much to the audience's bewilderment.
The Next Step
Dante dusted off his hands. "So, what's next?"
"Dragon teeth."
Dante blinked.
"…Where the hell am I supposed to get dragon teeth?"
Before the Trickster could answer, a vendor outside yelled:
"GET YOUR FRESH DRAGON TEETH HERE! FRESH AND SHARP!"
Dante slowly turned to stare out the window.
The Trickster snickered. "That was easy."
Dante groaned and stomped outside, grumbling.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he muttered, approaching the stand.
The vendor, a scrawny man with a missing tooth, beamed. "Ah, good sir! You looking for authentic, freshly harvested dragon teeth?"
Dante grabbed one of the teeth and inspected it. "These are… edible?"
"Of course! Good for strengthening bones, and some say they boost mana!"
Dante grumbled, handing over the coins. "Highway robbery."
"Pleasure doin' business!" the vendor chirped.
Dante pocketed the teeth, already bracing for whatever insane task came next.