[ Third person POV ]
A few days had passed since Dante received a call from Mark about the job. Since then, he'd been busy preparing a few things—mainly focused on protecting those so-called "ghost hunters" he was assigned to watch over.
One of his key preparations was a set of specially crafted necklaces—each designed to prevent the wearer from being touched or possessed by malevolent spirits. He was meticulous in their creation, ensuring every detail was flawless.
But Dante didn't stop there. He added a few extra enchantments—tweaks specifically meant to ward off demons. After all, when it comes to the supernatural, you can never be too careful.
While preparing the protective charms, Dante was also debating what to wear. After some thought, he decided to stick with his classic look—the long red jacket, a simple black T-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Casual, comfortable, but still iconic. It just worked.
At the same time, he was checking over his weapons—especially the ones Dream had gifted him. When he first laid eyes on them, he was completely floored. Shocked beyond belief, he nearly passed out from a mix of excitement and disbelief.
In his first life, Dante had always been a huge fan of the Doom Slayer and the Devil May Cry series. The weapons in those games were not only incredibly powerful but had unforgettable designs—and now, some of them were real, in his hands.
Still, no matter what other tools he picked up along the way, his favorites would always be Ebony and Ivory—his signature twin pistols. Stylish, deadly, and just too damn cool to replace.
By the time he'd finished all his preparations, Dante finally got the call from Mark about the job.
RING!! RING!!
Dante picked up the phone and answered, "Finally, Mark. Took you long enough—I was starting to get bored over here. I've already finished all my preparations. So, is everything ready on your end?"
"Yep, everything's ready," Mark said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "Took me a while, though—I had to really work to convince the producer to let you join the show as their bodyguard. Gave them a bunch of excuses and a long list of reasons why you're the best at what you do. I even told them you'd be bringing specialized equipment—just in case anything goes wrong in the asylum."
"Well, that's a little annoying," Dante said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But good thing I've still got some of the gear from our travels. I'll bring it with me."
He paused for a moment, then added, "Is there anything else I should know before I get started, Mark? I want to make sure nothing's left unsaid."
"Actually, yeah—since you brought it up, I was gonna ask if you finally picked a name for the business," Mark said, hopeful that Dante had finally made a decision.
Dante rubbed the back of his head, deep in thought. He'd been trying to come up with the perfect name, but honestly, he only had one—and he'd been hoping he wouldn't have to use it. Still, it was the only one that stuck in his mind. It wasn't exactly original, but at this point, it was the best he had.
"Alright, how about this—let's call it Devil May Cry," Dante said, a small smirk forming as he spoke into the phone. "I think it sounds pretty great. What do you think, Mark?"
"Devil May Cry, huh? Sounds good—surprisingly good, actually," Mark said, clearly impressed. "Honestly, I thought you'd come up with something totally ridiculous or borderline offensive for the business name," he added with a chuckle.
"Okay, first of all, you really need to have a little more faith in me, man—seriously," Dante said with a smirk. "Anyway, time for me to get to work. They're at the asylum, right?"
"Yeah, they'll be there tomorrow," Mark said. "Are you planning to ride your motorcycle all the way to Canada? If so, I can book you a hotel for when you get there—just let me know."
"Yeah, I'm taking the motorcycle—and trust me, Mark, it's fast. I've made some serious modifications since I moved in," Dante said with a smirk. "Let's just say it can move faster than anything on the road. Go ahead and book me a room—make sure it's a good one."
He paused for a moment before adding, "By the way, what time is the crew supposed to arrive at the asylum?"
"They didn't give an exact time," Mark said, "but it's probably best if you show up around noon—that's usually the best time for filming. I went ahead and booked a hotel room for you in advance."
"Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it. I'll call you once the job's done," Dante said sincerely.
With that, he ended the call. Mark did the same, both of them knowing each other well enough that no more words were needed. As Dante prepared for the task ahead, Mark leaned back in his chair, organizing his files and quietly waiting for Dante's next call.
With the call over, Dante grabbed his large, heavy black duffel bag and began packing his weapons. He carefully placed each item inside—his pistols, enchanted tools, and, most importantly, his Rebellion sword. Once everything was secured, he cast a protective spell over the bag—an enchantment designed to make it completely unnoticeable and uninteresting to demons, spirits, or anyone else who might be foolish enough to try and take it.
Dante headed into his garage and walked over to his motorcycle—his personal beast built for the hunt. Back when he was still traveling with Mark, he'd developed a serious interest in motorcycles. That curiosity quickly turned into obsession, and soon he was studying mechanics, learning everything he could to modify and enhance his ride. Over time, he upgraded it with both technology and magic, reinforcing it with powerful seals and enchantments. Now, it looked like something out of a futuristic nightmare—sleek, intimidating, and tailor-made to terrify the supernatural. It wasn't just a bike anymore. It was a weapon.
[ image ]
Dante ran his hand over the sleek frame of the motorcycle, a proud smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Every inch of it reflected his skill, effort, and obsession with perfection. He'd turned a standard bike into something straight out of a futuristic arsenal—something worthy of a demon slayer. Hidden within the body of the motorcycle were numerous weapons and tools, almost like a two-wheeled version of the Batmobile. It was equipped with defense mechanisms to protect both itself and its rider, and even had a camouflage mode to conceal its presence when needed. It wasn't just transportation—it was a mobile fortress wrapped in steel and sorcery
He slung the heavy military duffel bag over his shoulder, the weight of the gear inside barely noticeable to him. With practiced ease, he climbed onto his motorcycle and started the engine. The garage door rumbled open, and in a flash, he was gone. The bike didn't move at a normal pace—it roared forward at hypersonic speed, blurring past the world around him. He didn't hesitate, didn't slow down. There was no looking back—only forward.
His long red leather coat billowed behind him as the wind whipped across his face. Dante relished the feeling—riding his motorcycle like this made him feel truly alive. Still, nothing thrilled him more than hunting monsters. After all, what's life without a little chaos and excitement?
Gripping the handlebars tightly, he pushed the bike even faster, tearing through the landscape at hypersonic speed. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
This job is going to be fun, he thought, eyes fixed ahead, burning with anticipation.
Two hours had passed without a single stop. His motorcycle purred beneath him—quiet, smooth, and deadly—gliding over the road like a shadow in motion. Red streaks of light trailed behind him, slicing through the air, adding a dramatic flair that made the ride look even more dangerous—and stylish.
By the time he reached the hotel, the ride still felt effortless. It was a nice place—better than expected. He pulled into the parking lot and parked his bike in a discreet corner. With a quick gesture, he activated the camouflage spell, making the high-tech machine look like a beat-up, forgotten motorcycle caked in grime. Then came the contingency enchantments—silent traps and magical defenses set in place just in case someone got bold or stupid enough to try stealing it.
Satisfied, Dante slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and casually walked inside the hotel.
As he stepped inside, Dante took a moment to glance around. The place was decent—clean, modern, and well-kept, at least by his standards. A few guests moved through the lobby, some checking in, others heading out, the usual rhythm of a busy hotel.
After giving the place a quick once-over, he made his way toward the front desk. With an easy stride and his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he approached the teller to ask about the room Mark had booked for him.
After a brief exchange with the front desk clerk, Dante was handed the key to his room. With a nod of thanks, he turned and headed down the hall, his boots echoing softly against the polished floor.
Once inside the room, he gave it a quick scan—basic, nothing fancy, but clean enough. He tossed his duffel bag onto the bed, then stretched his arms with a quiet sigh.
"No way in hell am I going to sit in that dirty ass bed," he muttered, eyeing the mattress with mild disgust.
Instead, he dropped into the chair by the window, leaning back and getting comfortable. It wasn't luxury, but it would do—for now.
After settling in, Dante cast a few protective spells around the room—precautions against any wandering spirits. In a world like this, you could never be too careful.
Once the wards were in place, he unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out a book. He'd picked it up a few days ago but kept putting off reading it—blaming laziness, or maybe just not being in the mood.
Now, with some time to kill, he glanced at the cover and read the title aloud.
"The Dictionary of Demons," Dante muttered, flipping open the weighty tome. "Sure, I know a few things about demons—but who they really are? That's a whole other story."
He glanced out the window as the sky darkened into a deep, inky blue.
"Well... better get to reading. Looks like I've got until morning."
With a smirk, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek case containing his wireless earbuds. Popping them in, he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his playlist, finally selecting one of his favorite tracks—something dark, rhythmic, and atmospheric. The kind of music that made studying the occult feel like preparing for battle.
As the music filled his ears and the pages turned beneath his fingers, Dante settled into the chair, ready to dive deep into the dark world of demons
[ End of the chapter ]