The air was thick with tension. The council chamber, grand and towering, had turned silent as the weight of Dante's realization crashed onto him. His mother… she had died at twenty-four. Just like every single one of his ancestors.
It was never fate. Never coincidence.
It was them.
The council.
The Institute.
They had condemned his family. Doomed them to short lives, bound by a curse he had never understood until now.
A sound—mocking, condescending—echoed through the chamber. The headmaster.
"You look surprised, boy," the man said, voice deep and laced with arrogance. "Did you truly believe a hybrid could escape their fate? Your family was an aberration. A mistake. We did what needed to be done. It was for the greater good."
Dante's head lowered. His hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. His breathing grew heavier, sharper. The Trickster stirred in his mind, but Dante barely registered it.
Then the headmaster said it.
"Your mother was no different. She was a curse upon this world, just like you. We simply allowed nature to correct itself."
Something snapped.
A deep, guttural noise escaped Dante's throat. His body trembled. Not from fear. Not from sadness.
From rage.
The councilmen shifted in their seats. The air itself seemed to bend under the force of something terrifying awakening inside Dante.
A scream, raw and primal, tore through the chamber.
And then chaos.
The ground beneath him cracked. The walls shuddered as a wave of energy exploded outward, shattering glass, toppling furniture. Guards lunged forward, but Dante didn't see them. He barely saw anything. His world had turned red.
Bodies flew. Bones snapped. Screams filled the air as Dante tore through the chamber, a force of pure destruction.
The Trickster yelled inside his mind, trying to reach him.
"Dante, stop! They're waiting for this! If they see you like this, they'll never stop hunting hybrids! You'll prove them right!"
But Dante was far too gone.
The Trickster cursed. He had no choice.
He forced his way out, materializing into the world. His spectral form flickered as he stood between Dante and the headmaster, arms outstretched.
"Enough, kid!"
Dante didn't even slow down.
He walked straight through the Trickster like he was nothing.
The Trickster's eyes widened. He forgot. When he manifested like this, he couldn't touch anything.
Dante wasn't stopping.
The headmaster had fallen back, scrambling to escape. Fear finally flickered in his eyes. He had no more guards. No more protection. Dante was upon him.
The Trickster gritted his teeth. No choice.
He dove back into Dante's mind, shoving all his power forward in one desperate attempt. Right as Dante's fist was about to crush the headmaster's skull—
Everything stopped.
Dante's body stiffened. His breathing was ragged. His fingers were inches away from the man's face. His mind cleared just enough for him to realize what he was doing.
The Trickster exhaled. He got through.
But before Dante could fully process it—
A heavy force slammed into the back of his skull. His vision blurred. The world spun.
A guard. One of the few still standing.
Dante fell forward, crashing onto the cold floor. His mind drifted into darkness as the headmaster slowly rose, regaining his composure.
The last thing Dante heard before everything faded was the man's voice, smug and triumphant.
"Fitting. Just like your mother. Pathetic."
Then, nothing.
---
The cold, damp air of the Reaper Institute's underground prison pressed in on Dante. Iron shackles dug into his wrists, enchanted to suppress his power. He sat still, unmoving, listening to the rhythmic footsteps outside his cell.
He wasn't alone.
"You think sitting there quietly will save you?" The warden stood outside the bars, smirking. "They'll execute you tomorrow, hybrid. The Council wants a spectacle."
Dante didn't respond.
The warden chuckled. "You disgust me. You hybrids pretend you're like us, but you're nothing more than accidents."
The insult barely registered. Dante had heard worse. But his silence was intentional. He was listening.
Beyond the warden, faintly— a different set of footsteps.
Then— a distant explosion.
The prison shook.
The warden's smirk dropped. The alarm blared.
They were here.
---
A sudden gust of wind blasted through the corridor, and the torches snuffed out in an instant. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting along the walls. Then—
A guard screamed.
A figure dropped from the ceiling, moving too fast to track. Blades flashed. The warden barely had time to draw his weapon before a dagger pierced his throat.
He gurgled. Stumbled. Collapsed.
Dante finally looked up.
A woman with pale silver hair and faintly glowing eyes stood before his cell. A hybrid.
"You're late," Dante said.
She smirked. "You're welcome."
With a single swipe of her hand, the shackles binding Dante snapped open. His power surged back.
The Trickster chuckled in his mind. "And here I thought we'd have to do all the work."
Dante rolled his wrists. "Who sent you?"
"Nobody. We sent ourselves," the woman replied. "The Hybrid Society doesn't leave our own behind."
"Hybrid society." Dante said with confusion.
She tossed him a sword.
"Now, let's get you the hell out of here."
---
The prison was in chaos.
Hybrids moved like phantoms, striking from the darkness, tearing through the guards. Spells clashed in the air, the scent of burning metal and blood thickening the atmosphere.
Dante and his rescuer sprinted through the corridors, cutting down anyone in their way.
"There's a tunnel system below us," she explained. "It leads outside the Institute's territory."
Dante grunted as he blocked a guard's strike, spinning and slamming his fist into the man's chest. He hit the ground, unconscious. "How do you know that?"
"Because we built it."
---
They reached an old storage room, where a rusted metal grate covered the floor. A hybrid—a massive man with beast-like features—was already there, prying it open.
"Go!" he barked.
Dante and the woman dropped down into the tunnels. The ground trembled as another explosion rocked the prison above.
"They're sealing off exits," she said, picking up the pace. "We need to move."
Dante followed, but his mind churned. The Hybrid Society. He had heard rumors, but seeing them fight, seeing how organized they were—
This wasn't just a rebellion.
It was a war.
And he had just become their most valuable weapon.
---
The tunnel opened up to a massive underground chamber, torch-lit and lined with stone pillars. But waiting at the exit—
A squad of elite Reaper Soldiers.
Leading them stood a man Dante recognized immediately.
A High Commander.
"You're not leaving," the man declared. His spear crackled with energy. "Surrender now."
Dante grinned.
"Make me."
The final battle began.
[5 minutes later]
Dante leaned against a wooden post, arms crossed, watching as the woman walked toward him, her hands dripping red. She wiped them against her tunic, unfazed, as if killing was just another part of her day.
Dante exhaled sharply. "So, you wanna start a war?"
A few minutes passed in silence. Then she answered.
"Yes."
Dante's brow furrowed. "You realize that's insane, right? That wouldn't help hybrids—it would just make things worse."
She tilted her head, giving him a look that made it clear she had heard this argument before. "And what would help? Begging? Hiding? Watching more of our kind be hunted down while the world pretends we're the problem?"
Dante didn't answer.
"War isn't just an option," she continued. "It's the only thing left. If we burn their cities, they'll be forced to acknowledge us."
Dante pushed himself off the post, shaking his head. "Or they'll wipe you all out."
The woman smirked. "Then we'll take as many of them down with us as we can."
Dante sighed. He could see their logic, but he hated it. If hybrids became exactly what the world feared them to be, then they had already lost.
The Hybrid Society had made up their minds, and nothing he said would change that.
So he stayed the night.
---
Morning came, and Dante rose early. The camp was still asleep, the embers of last night's fires glowing faintly in the cold air. He stepped outside, stretching, feeling the weight of a choice pressing on his shoulders.
The woman approached him, arms crossed. "Leaving?"
Dante nodded.
She smirked. "Figured. You're not one of us."
Dante met her gaze. "Doesn't mean I'm against you."
Surprisingly, she laughed. "I know. That's why we're letting you walk away." She paused. "You'll always have a place here, Dante. Whether you like it or not."
Dante gave a half-smile before turning away.
He had his own path to walk.
—
As Dante walked through the forest, the Trickster hummed in his mind. "Leaving a war behind to be a good little hero? Boring."
Dante rolled his eyes. "I don't care."
The Sound God scoffed. "So, let me get this straight. Your grand plan is to change the world's view on hybrids… by what? Helping old ladies cross the street?"
Dante exhaled. "By being so good that they can't ignore it."
Silence. Then, both gods groaned.
The Trickster grumbled. "This is stupid."
The Sound God sighed. "I hate that this just might work."
Dante smirked. "Too bad. You don't have a choice."
He was going to rewrite the laws of the divine.
And the world was going to watch.
The gods have their own rules, ones that dictate how power is shared between them and the mortal world. Dante's existence proves those rules aren't absolute—he aims to force the gods to change or dismantle their order entirely.