02-05-2016, 09:09 AM
Dante had wanted to assure himself that this was no time to be messing around, but it honestly hadn't been that since since he and the Exorcists had stepped foot in this Verse. As it stood now, however, Kanda needed as much diversion as he could handle, and if any amount of wit might suffice, then why waste it? Ultimately, however, the Noah was a powerful enemy, and if Dante wanted to beat them out then he was going to have to fight with all his capability.
And yet, something didn't set right with the devil hunter. It seemed like only a fraction of the Akuma he had seen before were currently here- the sight didn't quite sit well with the devil hunter. This couldn't be anywhere close to the full extent of Tyki's forces, so then why was he holding back? Why not fight with all his might to ensure a victory from the get-go?
He's toying with us, it occurred to Dante and perhaps General Nine as well. He thinks he can win no matter what, because he has a trump card. For a moment, the Son of Sparda reflected this notion upon himself and his own methods; in that moment, he realized his unease wasn't entirely with the Akuma. Dante's hollowness remained, unconsciously driving his less-desirable words and actions- but he had not become aware of this again until now.
The Son of Sparda would have to ruminate upon all this later, however. "You get rid of the trash," Dante referred Klaud to the small crowd of Akuma, still pointing with his twin handguns, "I'll take care of their leader." She acknowledged the devil hunter's words, convinced by the distinct, certain fire in his eyes. With another crack of the whip, the animalistic innocence let forth a cry of war and thundered forward to meet their adversary.
The Noah merely smirked coolly in return, sending forth his handful of lesser Akuma with a flick of the wrist. Before they could even open fire, Lau Jimin plunged a glowing fist into one of the twisted spawns, popping it like a vile balloon. The next one received several new holes from Dante's pistols as he ran up and vaulted off of his ally's pet, then planted a boot in the Akuma's face to hike off of it. What remained of the ball-shaped demons may as well have been using pea-shooters, for all they could do to stop the red-coat and his firearms. Using one poor clod as a platform, Dante sent two streams of bullets into a pair of Akuma on either side, before flipping forward and unleashing the report of his shotgun on the third.
Impressed with the display, Tyki wordlessly pointed the Level 3 towards the devil hunter, stepping backward to witness the view of the battlefield. He suspected that even such a stronger demon wouldn't be much more than a distraction to Dante, based on what the Noah has seen of the white-haired one. General Nine and Lau Jimin were making short work of the ugly Level 1 Akuma, as expected, smashing the twisted creatures one by one, punch by vicious punch.
That, of course, left his finest subject yet for the climax: an Akuma with such power as to absolutely obliterate these two. It was a shame to see a graceful (if blunt) fighter like the red-coat simply perish, but as it were, that man simply resolved to get in his way at this point- Tyki couldn't have that, of course.
"Where do you think you're going, huh!?" Dante shouted to the idle noble, having to bite down the urge to cuss the villain out. There was no way he could afford to lose his own cool just yet, the Son of Sparda resolved. The blue-armored fiend yet in his way seemed to make some noise akin to laugh, yet far more grating. "You cut that out," the hunter shot back verbally at the Akuma, pumping his shotgun and leveling it to the demon's head. That scraping chortle continued for a moment more, then abruptly ended.
"Nothing but a pest," it replied proper, the voice ghostly and gritty as if a foul wind could speak, "Trying to slay the exterminator." A tar-like substance began to seep from the monster's seams, leaking dark essence unto itself.
Dante managed to smirk back, recovering his groove. "Well, you're not wrong," he began, the smile spreading his face open like an infection of humor, "But you really shouldn't put yourself down like that, you know?"
Whether it recognized the retort or simply intended to attack anyways, the third-stage Akuma lunged for the devil hunter. A wicked set of claws, dripping shadowy ichor like a rabid dog's spittle, went straight for Dante's neck. They never connected, as the 10-gauge firearm spat a cluster of buckshot straight into the demon's face. Another clicking pump of Terminator's lever rang out as the Akuma buckled back in shock, and then it was fully toppled by the ensuing blast to the chest.
Dante seemed to scoff at these results, stowing his shotgun back under his coat. "A pest would try harder than that, though," he spoke with what sounded like restrained disgust at the paralyzed dark-spawn.
The limp limbs twitched, tensed up, and the monster they were attached to sprung from its resting place. This time, Dante was pretty sure that the Akuma was actually reacting to that insult. "Do you know who I am?" It wheezed out again, the dark matter pooling on his form beginning to bubble like hot tar.
Without waiting for any response, the blue-armored fiend thrust its palms out forward, firing two jet-streams of that sick black fluid. In the moment, Dante managed only to duck and reel away from the sudden attack, allowing most of the black stuff to spatter all over his crimson coat. A shame, but better that than him- whatever this retched crap was, it probably wasn't healthy for him or his clothes, if that burning smell was any indication. In the meantime, the Son of Sparda drew his blade and readied his riposte...
Then, that damn giant monkey appeared again, tailed by Klaud and her light-swathed whip. Leaping right over Dante, Lau Jimin cracked down upon the Akuma, throwing heavy flying blows at the dark-spawn. Ever one to seize the moment, the Son of Sparda quipped back to the struggling demon, "Right now, I'm pretty sure you're toast!"
As the two polar-opposed juggernauts exchanged fisticuffs, General Nine took the fleeting opportunity to reprimand her ally; "What happened to going after Tyki?" The half-blood sneered, primarily at the mocking words and partially at the realization that the Akuma wasn't entirely aiming for him.
"I'm getting to it, lady, sheesh," Dante blew the Exorcist off, perhaps a bit more snidely than he had meant, and refocused his attention on the Noah. Before he could leave, however, Klaud whipped Lau Jimin once more and hailed the devil hunter again.
"He may not seem like it, but he's quite powerful-" another whip interrupted the advice, "-and just as gruesome. Be careful." Yet, Dante was already on his way, deftly dodging past the fierce melee and towards Tyki. Klaud sighed with some resignation.
In the end, neither of them had chosen to acknowledge the fact that his red coat was dissolving and tattering from the dark matter. Maybe that was somehow fitting, through, as Dante found himself struggling to retain himself fully. That hollowness was eager to take control and violently abuse every ounce of lethal power in his half-blood body. He simply couldn't allow that, no matter the circumstances. It hit too close to home, just thinking about it.
The sight of Tyki Mikk's smugly suave figure began to fill his vision, and the Son of Sparda returned to reality as fully as he could manage. "Now, that's a bit disappointing-" the Noah shook his head once, still wearing his nobleman's smile, "And here I was was, hoping you'd try and have a bit more fun." Tyki unfolded his arms to either side, as if to shrug but more like to present some display. "Aren't you supposed to be stalling for your 'friend' to finish his ritual?"
"Well," Dante started, still bearing the same frown from his earlier introspection, "Maybe I'd just rather take care of a problem from the source, if you see what I mean." A fleshy, explosive crunch resounded from behind the devil hunter, and he didn't even have to glance back to be sure that the Level 3 Akuma was, in fact, quite dead. "And right now, you're looking awfully outgunned," Dante finished, his frown twisting into a vague, coy grin to match Tyki's own.
"Is that so?" The Noah's lips stretched farther, as if his smile were contesting Dante's. "I believe you've forgotten something-..." He raised a white-gloved hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger together. For a single instant, Dante swore he recognized the devilish flash in Tyki's irises - in that same instant, General Nine froze where she approached, her heart seizing at the realization of what was to come. Those fingers pressed together, resulting in that telltale snapping noise. All at once, a sheer glaring light generated from behind the dark-dressed noble, threatening to blind Dante and Klaud had it not all surged forward in a ray of destruction. In a blink of the eye, the light was gone and so was the red-coat, both blazing away from the group, towards the summoning site; Lau Jimin found himself nearly blown away just from being too close to the brilliant charge, and his master couldn't even bring herself to move or to even think properly.
One moment, they had the man cornered- no, this was no man. This was a Noah, with command over the most cruel and devastating creatures of ever exist. What she had just witnessed was the strongest one known in existence. General Nine's poor mind cycled through a flurry of emotions; shock, fear, dread, despair, absolution. She thought to curl up into a ball and cry, or to pray for some unseen god's favor. But she knew she couldn't - yet, she knew she could not do anything else. A Level 4 Akuma was too powerful. Klaud Nine found it nigh-impossible to fathom a living thing that could face such a demon alone- and win.
"Oh, miss?"
It took a reverted and frightful Lau Jimin frantically tugging at Klaud's leg for her to dismiss her paralysis. Simply, she and Dante could not stop the Level 4. Their only hope was that Yu Kanda might finish the Black Order's resurrection soon, that the entire academy might be able to ward away this incredible force of destruction.
"Come now, miss..."
General Nine, steeling her resolve, faced Tyki with a grim-faced determination. He still bore that same shit-eating grin, but now beckoned to her a gentleman courtier might. "You seem so troubled. Could I ease your mind with a dance...?"
Klaud narrowly held back the grimace that was determined to take over her face at that suggestion. She vented the emotion instead into her whip, lashing the ground so ferociously as to tear up chunks of the mottled earth. Lau Jimin jumped at the outburst. "Go to hell, Noah," the Exorcist General seethed at Tyki, wishing her furious glare could make the bastard drop dead.
"Ah, well..." A violet butterfly appeared, seemingly from nowhere, fluttering out of the same gloved hand that had summoned the Akuma. Then another, and yet another, the numbers rising exponentially until Tyki had produced a backdrop of Teez. "After you."
-----
It was times like this, when every physical part of his body was in aching pain, that Dante wished he couldn't feel. Only those times. It would be awfully easier to think of a counterattack when his entire body wasn't screaming at him that it was damaged- like, he knew that already, couldn't he just focus on the guy who started it?
So, here he was, slammed into the side of a hill at somewhere just below Mach 1, and this creepy, overweight man-baby with angelic semblance was to blame. Oh yeah, hang on, have we seen this before? Sometimes, it was kind of tricky to remember demons could also look angelic - angels only existed in heaven, after all. Maybe this was supposed to be that Level 4 Akuma that Kanda was talking about. How was Kanda even doing? Dante craned his head backwards, looking at the pillar of prismatic light still churning atop the outlook-
The ugly angel baby thing seized Dante's exposed neck roughly, lifting the battered man into the air as if he were some mottled ragdoll. Red eyes with no pupils judged the half-blood's cyan eyes, its expression blank and pale as the rest of its complexion. Getting impatient after a a few seconds of this, Dante wrestled Ebony from her sheath and tried raising the gun to the Akuma's head.
"Ponder this, you ugly-"
Then it screamed; more accurately, it let loose an impossibly loud shriek right into the sly face of the devil hunter. His whole body seemed to cringe and retract, as he felt his eardrums literally burst and his skull ripple with the force of that scream- but still, somewhere, Dante yet hand the mind to pull the trigger. He heard no click, no telltale blast or impact blow, but he felt the recoil of the handgun. Eyelids reflexively shut tight in the pain, Dante simply forced the weapon forward again and squeezed down on that trigger, and then again. This repeated several times, until the man no longer recognized any reverb in his head, and instead felt a sense of being forced, thrown into a solid surface.
There, back in his perfectly Dante-sized hole, the hunter patted the ground with the empty left hand until he could close his fingers around the hilt of his sword, Rebellion. Only then did he open his eyes, his brain fighting a battle to reclaim clear vision. Technically, it lost.
The edges of Dante's vision remained blurred, only telescoping in on his enemy and the five new, black-dripping holes making a trail up its torso. He was giving in, seeing only an enemy, an adversary to be slaughtered- in that moment, nothing else mattered. Deafened ears still ringing, Dante registered his lips moving but didn't hear himself call the Akuma a "god-damned asshole;" nor, indeed, could he see that his own eyes had dilated into dark, vein-filled marbles.
He leaped up from the small crater, injured but far from broken, and swung Rebellion with deathly intent. The demon offered little more countenance than a slighter more stern-eyed poker face. It parried the attack with it's bare arms, ducked away through the follow-up, and countered with a sharp punch to the ribs that sent Dante to the ground.
Kanda hadn't been kidding. The Level 4 was deceptively strong, in addition to its raw destructive potential. A hollow Dante wouldn't recognize that, though, being only pure killer instinct.
As an orb of darkness swirled into existence in the Akuma's grasp, the primal devil hunter merely recognized to get out of the way of the attack, and did only that. The fact that the blast had completely erased a spherical chunk of the hillside was no concern; Dante just opened fire with Ebony again, not quite registering that the bullets were not as effective as they might've seemed before. Driven in this raw, carnage-filled stage, the hollow half-blood believed the only thing that mattered was seeing the end of this creature.
He ran forward and lashed out with his sword again, tracing new black scratches down the demon's forearms. It smacked the weapon aside to try and decimate Dante with a point-blank surge of dark matter, but he dashed aside and planted another bullet in the Akuma's head. The hollowed man followed with a rushing thrust of his blade, but he couldn't so much as stagger the demon before it pushed back. With a dark-infused blow to the head, Dante was sent flying back again, now trailing blood from a new head wound. Yet, the fighter preserved, quickly bouncing back to keep chipping away at the monster.
It all became a fast-paced blur, where he found himself pierced with stinging beams, raked with shadowy claws, and nearly concussed with a destructive blast - but he always repaid in kind, as best as he could in spite of the Akuma's mighty durability.
---
After he was sent to the ground for about the fourteenth time, Dante attempted to get up. The muscles tensed and worked as they had so many times earlier- but nothing happened. He tried again, volt after volt of pain beginning to amount up from his battered form. Even those best efforts to move were for naught. Dante found his senses dulling, his muscles giving no response but agony. His body simply refused to move.
He was aware of someone screaming out to him.
The beacon of color from before had disappeared. The world appeared to grow darker, more muted. Dante became fully aware of the pastel-white figure above him, marred by numerous black scars.
Someone was screaming out something repeatedly. Did he recognize that voice?
Desperation set in, somewhat abruptly. Dante urged, hounded, begged for his body to move. It would not. The last remnants of color fleeted from his vision. Above him, a white, clawed hand reached out from the shadows surrounding the hand's owner.
A crescendo of voices began to accumulate, and simultaneously blend into incomprehension.
A forlorn memory poked through the hybrid's failing mind - his entrance to the Omniverse. That pure white figure, announcing his intent. This seemed ironic in that hindsight, but Dante couldn't recognize that in the moment. He wasn't sure what to feel. Angry? Sad? Regretful?
The voices were fading, and the white figure, too.
No, he recalled. Death is cheap.
He felt a sense of falling...
And yet, something didn't set right with the devil hunter. It seemed like only a fraction of the Akuma he had seen before were currently here- the sight didn't quite sit well with the devil hunter. This couldn't be anywhere close to the full extent of Tyki's forces, so then why was he holding back? Why not fight with all his might to ensure a victory from the get-go?
He's toying with us, it occurred to Dante and perhaps General Nine as well. He thinks he can win no matter what, because he has a trump card. For a moment, the Son of Sparda reflected this notion upon himself and his own methods; in that moment, he realized his unease wasn't entirely with the Akuma. Dante's hollowness remained, unconsciously driving his less-desirable words and actions- but he had not become aware of this again until now.
The Son of Sparda would have to ruminate upon all this later, however. "You get rid of the trash," Dante referred Klaud to the small crowd of Akuma, still pointing with his twin handguns, "I'll take care of their leader." She acknowledged the devil hunter's words, convinced by the distinct, certain fire in his eyes. With another crack of the whip, the animalistic innocence let forth a cry of war and thundered forward to meet their adversary.
The Noah merely smirked coolly in return, sending forth his handful of lesser Akuma with a flick of the wrist. Before they could even open fire, Lau Jimin plunged a glowing fist into one of the twisted spawns, popping it like a vile balloon. The next one received several new holes from Dante's pistols as he ran up and vaulted off of his ally's pet, then planted a boot in the Akuma's face to hike off of it. What remained of the ball-shaped demons may as well have been using pea-shooters, for all they could do to stop the red-coat and his firearms. Using one poor clod as a platform, Dante sent two streams of bullets into a pair of Akuma on either side, before flipping forward and unleashing the report of his shotgun on the third.
Impressed with the display, Tyki wordlessly pointed the Level 3 towards the devil hunter, stepping backward to witness the view of the battlefield. He suspected that even such a stronger demon wouldn't be much more than a distraction to Dante, based on what the Noah has seen of the white-haired one. General Nine and Lau Jimin were making short work of the ugly Level 1 Akuma, as expected, smashing the twisted creatures one by one, punch by vicious punch.
That, of course, left his finest subject yet for the climax: an Akuma with such power as to absolutely obliterate these two. It was a shame to see a graceful (if blunt) fighter like the red-coat simply perish, but as it were, that man simply resolved to get in his way at this point- Tyki couldn't have that, of course.
"Where do you think you're going, huh!?" Dante shouted to the idle noble, having to bite down the urge to cuss the villain out. There was no way he could afford to lose his own cool just yet, the Son of Sparda resolved. The blue-armored fiend yet in his way seemed to make some noise akin to laugh, yet far more grating. "You cut that out," the hunter shot back verbally at the Akuma, pumping his shotgun and leveling it to the demon's head. That scraping chortle continued for a moment more, then abruptly ended.
"Nothing but a pest," it replied proper, the voice ghostly and gritty as if a foul wind could speak, "Trying to slay the exterminator." A tar-like substance began to seep from the monster's seams, leaking dark essence unto itself.
Dante managed to smirk back, recovering his groove. "Well, you're not wrong," he began, the smile spreading his face open like an infection of humor, "But you really shouldn't put yourself down like that, you know?"
Whether it recognized the retort or simply intended to attack anyways, the third-stage Akuma lunged for the devil hunter. A wicked set of claws, dripping shadowy ichor like a rabid dog's spittle, went straight for Dante's neck. They never connected, as the 10-gauge firearm spat a cluster of buckshot straight into the demon's face. Another clicking pump of Terminator's lever rang out as the Akuma buckled back in shock, and then it was fully toppled by the ensuing blast to the chest.
Dante seemed to scoff at these results, stowing his shotgun back under his coat. "A pest would try harder than that, though," he spoke with what sounded like restrained disgust at the paralyzed dark-spawn.
The limp limbs twitched, tensed up, and the monster they were attached to sprung from its resting place. This time, Dante was pretty sure that the Akuma was actually reacting to that insult. "Do you know who I am?" It wheezed out again, the dark matter pooling on his form beginning to bubble like hot tar.
Without waiting for any response, the blue-armored fiend thrust its palms out forward, firing two jet-streams of that sick black fluid. In the moment, Dante managed only to duck and reel away from the sudden attack, allowing most of the black stuff to spatter all over his crimson coat. A shame, but better that than him- whatever this retched crap was, it probably wasn't healthy for him or his clothes, if that burning smell was any indication. In the meantime, the Son of Sparda drew his blade and readied his riposte...
Then, that damn giant monkey appeared again, tailed by Klaud and her light-swathed whip. Leaping right over Dante, Lau Jimin cracked down upon the Akuma, throwing heavy flying blows at the dark-spawn. Ever one to seize the moment, the Son of Sparda quipped back to the struggling demon, "Right now, I'm pretty sure you're toast!"
As the two polar-opposed juggernauts exchanged fisticuffs, General Nine took the fleeting opportunity to reprimand her ally; "What happened to going after Tyki?" The half-blood sneered, primarily at the mocking words and partially at the realization that the Akuma wasn't entirely aiming for him.
"I'm getting to it, lady, sheesh," Dante blew the Exorcist off, perhaps a bit more snidely than he had meant, and refocused his attention on the Noah. Before he could leave, however, Klaud whipped Lau Jimin once more and hailed the devil hunter again.
"He may not seem like it, but he's quite powerful-" another whip interrupted the advice, "-and just as gruesome. Be careful." Yet, Dante was already on his way, deftly dodging past the fierce melee and towards Tyki. Klaud sighed with some resignation.
In the end, neither of them had chosen to acknowledge the fact that his red coat was dissolving and tattering from the dark matter. Maybe that was somehow fitting, through, as Dante found himself struggling to retain himself fully. That hollowness was eager to take control and violently abuse every ounce of lethal power in his half-blood body. He simply couldn't allow that, no matter the circumstances. It hit too close to home, just thinking about it.
The sight of Tyki Mikk's smugly suave figure began to fill his vision, and the Son of Sparda returned to reality as fully as he could manage. "Now, that's a bit disappointing-" the Noah shook his head once, still wearing his nobleman's smile, "And here I was was, hoping you'd try and have a bit more fun." Tyki unfolded his arms to either side, as if to shrug but more like to present some display. "Aren't you supposed to be stalling for your 'friend' to finish his ritual?"
"Well," Dante started, still bearing the same frown from his earlier introspection, "Maybe I'd just rather take care of a problem from the source, if you see what I mean." A fleshy, explosive crunch resounded from behind the devil hunter, and he didn't even have to glance back to be sure that the Level 3 Akuma was, in fact, quite dead. "And right now, you're looking awfully outgunned," Dante finished, his frown twisting into a vague, coy grin to match Tyki's own.
"Is that so?" The Noah's lips stretched farther, as if his smile were contesting Dante's. "I believe you've forgotten something-..." He raised a white-gloved hand, pressing his thumb and middle finger together. For a single instant, Dante swore he recognized the devilish flash in Tyki's irises - in that same instant, General Nine froze where she approached, her heart seizing at the realization of what was to come. Those fingers pressed together, resulting in that telltale snapping noise. All at once, a sheer glaring light generated from behind the dark-dressed noble, threatening to blind Dante and Klaud had it not all surged forward in a ray of destruction. In a blink of the eye, the light was gone and so was the red-coat, both blazing away from the group, towards the summoning site; Lau Jimin found himself nearly blown away just from being too close to the brilliant charge, and his master couldn't even bring herself to move or to even think properly.
One moment, they had the man cornered- no, this was no man. This was a Noah, with command over the most cruel and devastating creatures of ever exist. What she had just witnessed was the strongest one known in existence. General Nine's poor mind cycled through a flurry of emotions; shock, fear, dread, despair, absolution. She thought to curl up into a ball and cry, or to pray for some unseen god's favor. But she knew she couldn't - yet, she knew she could not do anything else. A Level 4 Akuma was too powerful. Klaud Nine found it nigh-impossible to fathom a living thing that could face such a demon alone- and win.
"Oh, miss?"
It took a reverted and frightful Lau Jimin frantically tugging at Klaud's leg for her to dismiss her paralysis. Simply, she and Dante could not stop the Level 4. Their only hope was that Yu Kanda might finish the Black Order's resurrection soon, that the entire academy might be able to ward away this incredible force of destruction.
"Come now, miss..."
General Nine, steeling her resolve, faced Tyki with a grim-faced determination. He still bore that same shit-eating grin, but now beckoned to her a gentleman courtier might. "You seem so troubled. Could I ease your mind with a dance...?"
Klaud narrowly held back the grimace that was determined to take over her face at that suggestion. She vented the emotion instead into her whip, lashing the ground so ferociously as to tear up chunks of the mottled earth. Lau Jimin jumped at the outburst. "Go to hell, Noah," the Exorcist General seethed at Tyki, wishing her furious glare could make the bastard drop dead.
"Ah, well..." A violet butterfly appeared, seemingly from nowhere, fluttering out of the same gloved hand that had summoned the Akuma. Then another, and yet another, the numbers rising exponentially until Tyki had produced a backdrop of Teez. "After you."
-----
It was times like this, when every physical part of his body was in aching pain, that Dante wished he couldn't feel. Only those times. It would be awfully easier to think of a counterattack when his entire body wasn't screaming at him that it was damaged- like, he knew that already, couldn't he just focus on the guy who started it?
So, here he was, slammed into the side of a hill at somewhere just below Mach 1, and this creepy, overweight man-baby with angelic semblance was to blame. Oh yeah, hang on, have we seen this before? Sometimes, it was kind of tricky to remember demons could also look angelic - angels only existed in heaven, after all. Maybe this was supposed to be that Level 4 Akuma that Kanda was talking about. How was Kanda even doing? Dante craned his head backwards, looking at the pillar of prismatic light still churning atop the outlook-
The ugly angel baby thing seized Dante's exposed neck roughly, lifting the battered man into the air as if he were some mottled ragdoll. Red eyes with no pupils judged the half-blood's cyan eyes, its expression blank and pale as the rest of its complexion. Getting impatient after a a few seconds of this, Dante wrestled Ebony from her sheath and tried raising the gun to the Akuma's head.
"Ponder this, you ugly-"
Then it screamed; more accurately, it let loose an impossibly loud shriek right into the sly face of the devil hunter. His whole body seemed to cringe and retract, as he felt his eardrums literally burst and his skull ripple with the force of that scream- but still, somewhere, Dante yet hand the mind to pull the trigger. He heard no click, no telltale blast or impact blow, but he felt the recoil of the handgun. Eyelids reflexively shut tight in the pain, Dante simply forced the weapon forward again and squeezed down on that trigger, and then again. This repeated several times, until the man no longer recognized any reverb in his head, and instead felt a sense of being forced, thrown into a solid surface.
There, back in his perfectly Dante-sized hole, the hunter patted the ground with the empty left hand until he could close his fingers around the hilt of his sword, Rebellion. Only then did he open his eyes, his brain fighting a battle to reclaim clear vision. Technically, it lost.
The edges of Dante's vision remained blurred, only telescoping in on his enemy and the five new, black-dripping holes making a trail up its torso. He was giving in, seeing only an enemy, an adversary to be slaughtered- in that moment, nothing else mattered. Deafened ears still ringing, Dante registered his lips moving but didn't hear himself call the Akuma a "god-damned asshole;" nor, indeed, could he see that his own eyes had dilated into dark, vein-filled marbles.
He leaped up from the small crater, injured but far from broken, and swung Rebellion with deathly intent. The demon offered little more countenance than a slighter more stern-eyed poker face. It parried the attack with it's bare arms, ducked away through the follow-up, and countered with a sharp punch to the ribs that sent Dante to the ground.
Kanda hadn't been kidding. The Level 4 was deceptively strong, in addition to its raw destructive potential. A hollow Dante wouldn't recognize that, though, being only pure killer instinct.
As an orb of darkness swirled into existence in the Akuma's grasp, the primal devil hunter merely recognized to get out of the way of the attack, and did only that. The fact that the blast had completely erased a spherical chunk of the hillside was no concern; Dante just opened fire with Ebony again, not quite registering that the bullets were not as effective as they might've seemed before. Driven in this raw, carnage-filled stage, the hollow half-blood believed the only thing that mattered was seeing the end of this creature.
He ran forward and lashed out with his sword again, tracing new black scratches down the demon's forearms. It smacked the weapon aside to try and decimate Dante with a point-blank surge of dark matter, but he dashed aside and planted another bullet in the Akuma's head. The hollowed man followed with a rushing thrust of his blade, but he couldn't so much as stagger the demon before it pushed back. With a dark-infused blow to the head, Dante was sent flying back again, now trailing blood from a new head wound. Yet, the fighter preserved, quickly bouncing back to keep chipping away at the monster.
It all became a fast-paced blur, where he found himself pierced with stinging beams, raked with shadowy claws, and nearly concussed with a destructive blast - but he always repaid in kind, as best as he could in spite of the Akuma's mighty durability.
---
After he was sent to the ground for about the fourteenth time, Dante attempted to get up. The muscles tensed and worked as they had so many times earlier- but nothing happened. He tried again, volt after volt of pain beginning to amount up from his battered form. Even those best efforts to move were for naught. Dante found his senses dulling, his muscles giving no response but agony. His body simply refused to move.
He was aware of someone screaming out to him.
The beacon of color from before had disappeared. The world appeared to grow darker, more muted. Dante became fully aware of the pastel-white figure above him, marred by numerous black scars.
Someone was screaming out something repeatedly. Did he recognize that voice?
Desperation set in, somewhat abruptly. Dante urged, hounded, begged for his body to move. It would not. The last remnants of color fleeted from his vision. Above him, a white, clawed hand reached out from the shadows surrounding the hand's owner.
A crescendo of voices began to accumulate, and simultaneously blend into incomprehension.
A forlorn memory poked through the hybrid's failing mind - his entrance to the Omniverse. That pure white figure, announcing his intent. This seemed ironic in that hindsight, but Dante couldn't recognize that in the moment. He wasn't sure what to feel. Angry? Sad? Regretful?
The voices were fading, and the white figure, too.
No, he recalled. Death is cheap.
He felt a sense of falling...