My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

Dante walked slowly through the ruins of an ancient city. The air was thick, laden with miasma and an almost supernatural stillness.

There were no demons around him, only silence, which seemed heavier than any battle he had faced thus far. The structures were partially melted, as if consumed by lava ages ago, and shadows danced on the broken walls, created by the incandescent light emanating from magma fissures on the ground.

He glanced around, his sharp eyes analyzing every detail. "There's no one here..." he murmured, his voice echoing in the empty ruins. "Strange. On the ninth layer, I expected to find... legions upon legions of demons."

Then, he spoke to himself—or rather, to the presence within him. Alter-Dante, his living shadow and distorted conscience, hovered beside him, floating like a dark reflection. "What happened here, Alter?" Dante asked, his voice laced with curiosity and caution. "Why is it so... empty?"

Alter-Dante laughed, a guttural sound like metal scraping against stone. "This city, like all of Hell, is a constant battlefield. Naturally, there are areas where demons dominate and where the weak are subjugated. The only hierarchy here is the law of the strongest."

"And why is there no one here?" Dante narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively gripping the spear he carried. "What happened to this place?"

Alter-Dante drifted slowly, gesturing to the ruins around them. "This was one of the first cities of Hell. A place where condemned souls and demons coexisted... before the Great Demon War. When that war began, this city was the first to fall. All life was drained from here, leaving only an echo of what once was."

Dante frowned. "And no one came back? Not even to claim the territory?"

"No one with common sense," Alter replied, his tone growing darker. "But something tells me this quiet won't last. Hell has been in chaos ever since Lucifer and Asmodeus started their war. And you, my friend, are one of the few creatures wandering freely without picking a side. Chances are, the armies are gathering near Qlippoth."

Dante snorted. "I don't need sides. I just need to know where the next target is. Besides... hiding near Qlippoth is just courting true death. That tree will devour everything to survive."

Alter-Dante chuckled again. "At least we're on the same page. I think the same..." He then tilted his head as if analyzing something unseen. "Speaking of which, Dante... how many souls do you think you've consumed since you reached the ninth layer?"

Dante paused, crossing his arms as he thought. "Good question. I lost count after the first million. Does it matter?"

Alter-Dante smirked, his shadowy eyes glinting with malice. "More than you realize. Every soul you consume doesn't just strengthen you—it brings you closer to something greater. Something even you aren't prepared to face."

Dante scowled, his patience beginning to wear thin. "Out with it, Alter. What are you implying?"

Alter hovered in front of Dante, his dark form almost merging with the surrounding shadows. "I'm saying you're on the brink of transcendence. Your body is at its limit, carrying more souls than should be possible. If you keep going, evolution will be inevitable."
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Dante smiled, but there was something wild and dangerous in his gaze. "And that's a problem?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Alter-Dante shrugged. "It depends on how you handle the power. Honestly, ascending to an Infernal Progenitor Dragon is a solid plan. But with the 1,743,004,044 souls you've consumed so far, I'm afraid you might not evolve into a dragon... but a Demonic God."

Dante raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stared down his own floating shadow. "A Demonic God, huh? That sounds... interesting."

Alter-Dante circled him like a predator stalking its prey, his tone dripping with provocation. "Interesting, yes. But risky. Ascending to a Progenitor Dragon would grant you pure power and control. Becoming a Demonic God, however... well, let's just say the line between you and absolute chaos begins to blur."

"Absolute chaos, is it? Then I won't even need Qlippoth," Dante repeated, his eyes narrowing. "Still, I understand the risks. We'll keep everything properly calculated. When I ascend to a dragon, I'll deposit all the souls into Qlippoth to avoid a God Ascension."

Alter-Dante sighed, as if expecting that response. "Very well, Dante. If that's your decision, keep devouring. But remember: even gods have enemies. If you become a Demonic God, there's no turning back... and you'll attract attention. Attention that could be fatal, even for someone like you."

"Sure, sure," Dante replied, waving his hand dismissively.

He continued walking until he felt a familiar aura in the midst of the strange city.

"Hm?" Dante paused, his gaze fixed on an imposing figure in the center of an arena. There was something fascinating and eerily familiar about the woman before him. The atmosphere seemed to shift, growing heavier, as if her very presence dominated the surroundings.

She sat in a meditative posture, a massive sword embedded in the ground before her. Its black blade shimmered faintly, almost alive, pulsing with a menacing energy. The woman was incredibly tall—easily over three meters—and every inch of her exuded raw power.

Her physique was a masterpiece of strength and discipline. Well-defined muscles contoured her athletic build, a body worthy of a demonic warrior. Despite her evident power, there was a subtle grace to her, even as she remained perfectly still. Her face was a blend of untamed beauty and ferocity: high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and eyes that seemed to pierce straight into the soul. Her pitch-black irises were as deep as the abyss, contrasting with neon-red pupils that pulsed like glowing embers.

Her long white hair cascaded down to her waist, shimmering faintly under Hell's dim light. Two ebony horns, elegantly curved back, completed her demonic appearance, making her even more intimidating. She wore only the essentials: strips of cloth wrapped around her generous chest and black leather armor that accentuated her athletic figure, leaving no doubt she was a creature of war, forged in the heat of battle.

Dante couldn't help but grin. He recognized that presence, that unmistakable aura of power. She was a symbol of strength, destruction, and respect—but also someone with whom he had unfinished business.

"Akira!" Dante called out, his voice echoing through the arena, brimming with a mix of excitement and challenge.

The woman opened her eyes slowly, the glowing red of her pupils intensifying as they locked onto Dante. A lazy, yet ferocious smile spread across her lips as she raised her head with an air of superiority, unhurried and deliberate.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up…" she said, her deep, melodious voice reverberating through the arena, her smile never faltering. "You had the nerve to come see me. Or maybe it's just recklessness."

Dante took a few steps forward, stopping at the edge of the arena. He gestured dramatically, his usual grin lighting up his face. "Recklessness? You know I'm not that stupid... or maybe I am." He shrugged, a teasing air in his posture. "Either way, it's been a while, Akira. A long while. Who would've thought I'd find you... meditating? That doesn't suit you." He crossed his arms, clearly amused by the scene.

Akira raised an eyebrow but remained silent, observing him with her glowing eyes as if analyzing every detail.

Dante, ever the provocateur, continued, leaning slightly forward with a mocking tone. "I thought you were more the type to yell, 'HAHAHAHA, I'M GOING TO CRUSH YOU!'" He imitated her voice and laugh dramatically, waving his arms as if wielding an invisible weapon. "Like that one time, remember?"

Akira's expression shifted subtly. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her eyes still held that fierce intensity.

"I still owe you a fight, don't I?" Dante said, his voice dripping with provocation but also with a sincerity only he could deliver. It was as if he was genuinely looking forward to the confrontation, though he had no intention of rushing the moment.

Akira tilted her head slightly, as if recalling something. Then, a rare sound escaped her lips: a short, ironic laugh. "How interesting…" she murmured, gripping the hilt of her sword.

Then, in a calculated tone, she countered, "And how about we delay our fight? Didn't you say something similar years ago, Dante? During the demon invasion? Oh, what was it again?" She forced her voice into a deep, sarcastic imitation.

"'I need to save my wife and your mother, so we can fight in Hell without worrying about destroying everything around us.'" Akira recited perfectly, mimicking Dante's words from back then. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as she watched his reaction.

For a moment, Dante stood dumbfounded, blinking in disbelief before bursting into a loud, genuine laugh. "You remember that?! I thought no one else did!" He stepped back, still laughing, then raised a finger. "But honestly, Akira, I was right back then, wasn't I?"

She shrugged, the smile still on her face. "Maybe. But know this—I never forgot that you ran from a fight that day. And, Dante…" Her tone grew serious, the glow in her eyes intensifying. "This time, there will be no excuses."

"Fair," Dante replied, regaining his composure, though his grin remained. "But before that, how about we handle some other business? You and I have plenty of time to face each other. But it seems Lucifer and Asmodeus are still at each other's throats. If that idiot woman isn't stopped, the world might end sooner than expected." He gestured toward her as she picked up her sword, resting it on her shoulder.

"Let's go. I've always wanted to kill Lucifer," she said with a grin.