My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

Dante walked through the emptiness of the Eighth Circle, the air thick with an invisible rot filling his lungs with each breath. The ground, once solid and imposing, now stretched in ripples, as if space itself were dying. The sky was a black canvas marred with patches of color, devoid of stars or moon. Everything was a distorted reflection of reality, lifeless and purposeless.

The heat of Hell seemed to have dissipated here, replaced by an uncomfortable sense of emptiness. Dante was aware that this would be the most difficult cycle of his journey yet. The environment was not only physically desolate but spiritually oppressive—a place where even the very concepts of life and death seemed twisted. He knew that here, he would face something that would transcend the brutal battles he'd fought before.

It didn't take long for the first threatening presence to make itself felt.

Suddenly, the air around Dante distorted, and an immense figure emerged from the shadows. Pestilence. The entity was cloaked in a black fog that slithered across the ground, its hands covered in long, thin fingers, like claws. Its face, obscured by an iron mask, appeared as a fusion of rotting flesh and bone, with eyes that glowed with a sickly light. It was the embodiment of all the suffering caused by diseases, a silent and relentless force of destruction.

"You've come so far, Dante," Pestilence said in a voice that was more of a whisper than a speech, "but here, you will be nothing more than another toll paid to the unchangeable cycle."

Already prepared for another battle, Dante raised his spear, which glowed with the black energy of his aura. "I wonder who's been telling my name to all of you, are you seeing this, Judges of the Abyss?" Dante asked, looking at the sky.

But before he could take the first step, another figure appeared at his side. Hunger. The entity was cloaked in a hood, its face hidden in the shadows, but its eyes—or rather, its single eye—was large and empty, surrounded by red and black markings. The aura of Hunger was cold and distant, as if its presence drained the very vitality of the surroundings. It was an overwhelming force of deprivation and despair, a reflection of the void that forms when survival becomes an endless struggle.

"Leave him be, Pestilence," said Hunger, its voice low and drawn-out. "The Man has suffered enough. Now, he will face the absolute truth of what the void means."

Pestilence glanced at Hunger and gave a sinister smile. "Stay out of this. He's already mine. He'll be my offering."

The two entities were clearly at odds, but that didn't help Dante. He felt the pressure of both powerful forces surrounding him, and as though he had been thrown into the center of a storm, he knew he was about to face something beyond any battle he had fought before.

Dante didn't hesitate. With a battle cry, he lunged forward, his spear cutting through the air toward Pestilence. The moment the spear touched Pestilence's black mist, an explosion of fetid energy engulfed Dante. He screamed, feeling his body corroded by excruciating pain. His muscles contracted, his skin disintegrating as if it were being infected by an endless disease. Pestilence's power was terrifying, and its attacks were more than physical—they were spiritual, draining even his essence.

Dante fell to his knees, struggling to break free from the pain, but he knew he couldn't stop. He raised his spear once more, screaming through the agony, and struck toward the figure that represented disease. The spear pierced the dark mist, but the strike was repelled by an invisible force, and Dante was thrown back, hit by a wave of pain.

However, as he rose, he realized the truth that Pestilence had not anticipated: his resilience. He would not yield, no matter how deep the pain. He had a purpose. But then, he felt a different pressure—a presence that approached with an insatiable hunger.

Hunger advanced with slow steps, almost like a shadow. With each step, the ground around it seemed to disintegrate, sucked into a force Dante couldn't fully comprehend. The energies of Hunger seemed to transcend the mere pursuit of food—it was the insatiable desire for power, control, and the absolute consumption of everything.

"It's not enough for you to fight Pestilence, Dante," Hunger said with its deep voice. "Now you will face the greatest of all sufferings… the eternal desire. The hunger that never satisfies."

Dante realized that, as he was battling Pestilence, he was also being consumed by Hunger. His energy was rapidly depleting, his body weakening. He felt his life force being drained, as if his very reserves of power were being devoured by the existential void created by Hunger.

He knew he needed a new plan.

Now in a state of desperation, Dante focused the remainder of his energy. He realized that fighting these entities directly would be futile. Pestilence would corrode him to death, and Hunger would slowly devour him until nothing remained. But there was something he knew he could do.

Dante looked directly at Hunger, his eyes glowing with dark determination. He could feel the entity's power, an insatiable presence that seemed to devour not just the environment but his very soul. Its hunger was infinite, expanding and constricting around him like a prison of darkness. But, deep within his mind, an audacious idea took form.

"You are the personification of emptiness. The desire for everything," Dante said in a threatening tone. "But you also carry the essence of scarcity. You are not immortal. No one is." He could feel the growing pressure, the air thickening with Hunger's presence.

The entity paused for a moment, as if Dante's words had struck it in a way it had not expected. Its empty eyes, marked by the hunger and incessant desire, fixed on Dante with a disconcerting gaze.

"Do you think you understand what it means to desire, human?" Hunger replied with a hissing, drawn-out voice, like an echo from an abyss. "I am endless desire. I am the void that consumes everything... and you... you are just a meaningless piece of flesh trying to escape the inevitable." Read the latest on empire

With the strength that remained in his body, Dante smiled fiercely. "What you don't realize is that... even the void is consumed. Everything has an end, even you."

With a primal scream of pure pain and willpower, Dante raised his spear, knowing this would be the final move of his life, perhaps. He didn't have much time. His energy was nearly depleted, but he knew that this strike would be the key to defeating the entity. He channeled his very essence, his own soul, into the spear, creating a charge so intense that the very structure of Hell seemed to tremble.

The spear, infused with Dante's power, shot toward Hunger with incomparable speed. But this time, it wasn't a normal physical strike. The spear connected directly with Hunger's deep void, striking not just its body, but its very essence. The connection between the spear and Hunger was like the collision of two colliding universes. A painful scream echoed through the dimension of Hell.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Hunger screamed, an indescribable sound of agony as its form began to disintegrate. Dante's energies merged with the void of Hunger, consuming everything the entity represented. Hunger's body twisted, the misshapen and threatening forms of its being collapsing.

"You... can't..." Hunger tried to speak, but its words were swallowed by the destruction. "I am the... hunger... I am..."

"You are nothing more than an obsolete concept," Dante murmured, gritting his teeth. He felt the pain of his own essence being drained, but he couldn't stop. "Now, you will be consumed by your own nature. There is no escape."

With one final effort, Dante channeled the power stolen from Hunger and, using it, launched a devastating blow toward Pestilence. The newly acquired power of Hunger, now fused with his soul, radiated from Dante like a destructive wave. The strike was fast, precise, and filled with incomprehensible strength. Pestilence, still struggling to rise from its battle with Dante, had no time to react. The explosion of energy cut through the air like a sharp blade, striking Pestilence directly in the heart.

"No!" Pestilence screamed, but it was too late. Before it could make any move, the energy explosion generated by the fusion of Hunger's and Dante's forces destroyed the entity's essence, disintegrating it instantly. Its body was consumed by a burst of dark light, a final explosion of absolute power that swept everything around.

"I should have been the one to say that," Dante whispered as the energy of the battle dissipated, his body falling to his knees under the weight of the fight. "Nothing escapes when the end comes."

The atmosphere, which had once been filled with unbearable pressure, was now silent. The two entities that ruled the Eighth Cycle had been destroyed, but the cost was immense. Dante felt the weight of his energy being drained, his endurance weakening with every breath.

He tried to rise, but his vision blurred. His soul had been consumed by the battle, and he knew that if he didn't act quickly, he might not survive to see the next cycle. Even so, a part of him smiled, knowing that now he was stronger.

"You're strong, but..." he whispered to himself, looking at the empty space where Hunger and Pestilence had been. "Nothing lasts forever. No matter how much power I have. I... am... the... Administrator of Hell..."

Before he could complete his thought, the emptiness of the Eighth Cycle closed in around him. The energy he had stolen from the entities began to stabilize within his body, and he knew he couldn't lose control over the power he now carried.

With one final effort, Dante rose, the feeling of having achieved a bitter victory permeating his being. He looked toward the horizon, where the next cycle awaited him, and smiled coldly, determined to continue his journey.

"I survived," he murmured, "and now, it's time... The final obstacle... Kill Lucifer and Astaroth, and who knows, find the Knight of War."