My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

The portal's core pulsed like a dark, malevolent heart, glowing with a fierce crimson light. The runes surrounding it burned intensely, their hypnotic and ominous glow casting eerie shadows. The eyes of the demonic faces carved into the structure shimmered like smoldering embers, locking onto anyone who dared meet their gaze.

"This is the Gate of Hell," Dante said, his deep voice resonating through the courtyard. "It will take me straight there... but because of my... contract, I'll have to endure the Infernal Cycles." He sighed, his gaze shifting toward his wives.

"I might take much longer than you expect," he murmured. "I'll have to traverse each layer before reaching the battlefield where Astaroth and Lucifer are clashing."

Suddenly, one of the portal's gargoyles began to stir. Cracks along its surface widened, and chunks of stone fell away as the creature came to life. It descended from the edges of the portal, landing with a heavy thud before Dante. Grotesque yet majestic, the gargoyle's massive wings and curved horns gleamed in the fiery light.

The gargoyle bowed deeply, its gravelly voice reverberating through the courtyard. "Welcome back, Master." Unlike their last encounter, its posture was now submissive and reverent, signaling that something significant had changed.

Dante raised an eyebrow, observing the creature with a faint smirk. "I see you've finally learned the meaning of loyalty."

The gargoyle lifted its head slowly, its ember-like eyes glowing fiercely. "Your position has been reclaimed. It is only right to serve you as it should be, Supreme Sovereign. The portal is ready for you to cross."

Alice, ever the strategist, stepped forward. "We're ready, Dante. Just tell us what you need from us."

Dante smiled—a rare moment of tenderness amidst the heavy atmosphere. "Protect this realm while I'm gone. Stay vigilant. The enemy will do everything they can to weaken our defenses."

Lyrianna, her expression set with unshakable determination, nodded. "No one will dare touch this place while we're here."

With one last glance at his wives, Dante turned back toward the portal. The runes on its surface pulsed with an almost tangible energy, and the carved demons seemed to shift slightly, as if eager to release whatever lay beyond.

Without hesitation, Dante took the first step toward the portal. The gargoyle bowed again, its wings unfurling in a gesture of respect. "May your journey be victorious, Master Dante."

The world around him warped instantly, gravity seeming to rebel against itself. Dante felt a crushing pressure on his chest as his body was pulled in every direction at once. The runes, the carved demons on the portal, even the light itself were sucked into a colorless void.

And then—impact.

Dante landed softly, as though an invisible force had guided his descent. Rising to his feet, his eyes adjusted to the landscape—a bleak, endless plain shrouded in dense mist that seemed to move of its own accord.

No fire burned here, only an oppressive silence and the melancholy of a sky caught between day and night.

"The Limbo..." he muttered, attempting to unfurl his wings. But then—

"Damn it… looks like that's not going to work," he grumbled.

In the distance, Dante spotted gentle rolling hills and, atop them, a colossal structure: a citadel encased by cyclopean walls, with towers that pierced the mist and disappeared into the gloom. Even from afar, he could feel the pulsing energy emanating from that place—the heart of the Limbo, where souls who had never known God's light lingered for eternity.

"Well, let's get going," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and starting forward.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

As Dante walked through the barren plain, he began to notice figures wandering in the fog. They were shadows, indistinct yet unmistakably human. Some sat motionless, like statues of mourning, while others wandered aimlessly, their gazes lost in visions only they could see. There were no screams, no physical torment, but the air was thick with a palpable sorrow, an oppressive weight that seemed to press down on everything.

"You've finally arrived," a deep, measured voice called out from behind him. Dante turned sharply, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

A figure emerged from the mist. It was tall and cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood, though a faint golden aura emanated from within. As the figure stepped forward, Dante noticed its feet didn't touch the ground.

"And who are you?" Dante asked, his grip firm on his sword.

"A guide," the figure replied, its voice echoing as if coming from all directions at once. "I'm here because your arrival has not gone unnoticed, Demon King."

Dante eased slightly, though his stance remained cautious. "So, you know who I am."

The figure tilted its head, as if studying him. "Of course. You are an anomaly here, one who defies the natural order of this place. Limbo is the domain of those forgotten by salvation, but you…" It paused, savoring its words. "…you bring the promise of chaos. That is why I am here. To see what you will do."

Dante stepped forward, his eyes locked on the figure. "I'm not here to play your games. My mission lies beyond this place. I need to move on."

The figure chuckled, a low, almost musical sound. "Ah, but no one simply 'passes' through Limbo, Dante. Even the greatest have stumbled here, seduced by the deceptive calm of this place. To move forward, you must face the weight of what lies ahead. Limbo tests not just your strength but your resolve."

Dante raised an eyebrow, his irritation evident. "Seriously? Is this the best Lucifer could send my way?" He muttered under his breath before raising his hand. "Disappear."

A wave of demonic miasma erupted from him, surging toward the figure like an unstoppable tide of darkness. The air shimmered with raw power, and for a moment, it seemed as though the force would obliterate the mysterious presence.

Yet, as the miasma faded, the figure remained, completely unscathed. It smiled—a serene yet taunting expression.

"Interesting," it said, tilting its head slightly. "You think brute force solves everything? Typical of one who bears the title of Demon King. But Limbo is a place where strength means little. Here, what matters is your soul."

Dante narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated. "You people love your monologues, don't you? I don't have time for this."

The figure stepped closer, the shadows around it rippling as if they were an extension of its very being. "Time is all we have here, Dante. And your time… may run out faster than you think."

Before Dante could respond, the environment around him began to shift. The dull, gray sky darkened, and the dead trees writhed as if alive. The ground beneath him cracked, revealing an abyss glowing with golden light streaked with black shadows. From the chasm, voices began to rise—whispers that echoed from every direction, worming their way into Dante's thoughts.

"They're calling you," the figure said, watching as the voices grew louder. "Calling you to face what you fear most… what you've left behind. Limbo is not just a place, Dante. It is a mirror. And it reflects what you most wish to avoid."

Dante stepped back, the whispers intensifying. "This is nothing," he muttered, trying to shake off the growing unease within him. "I've faced horrors you can't even begin to imagine."

"Then prove it," the figure said, dissolving into a blur of shadows. "Show Limbo that you will not break."

Suddenly, Dante was swallowed by the abyss. He felt his body being dragged downward, an invisible force pulling him deeper into the depths of Limbo. The voices grew louder, transforming into screams, each whispering fragments of truths Dante would rather not face.

He fell into a void, an endless expanse of nothingness. Before him, shapes began to materialize. Familiar faces—people he had encountered during his long journey as the Demon King. Some were fallen allies, others were enemies he had vanquished. Among them were faces that gazed at him with sorrow—those he had failed to save.

"Dante…" A soft, melancholic voice echoed through the emptiness. He turned, and standing before him was a woman with golden hair and eyes that shone like the sun. She was someone he hadn't seen in a long time, someone he had buried deep within the recesses of his memory.

"Aphrodite?" he whispered, his voice faltering for a moment. The woman gave him a sorrowful smile, her presence radiating warmth that contrasted with the cold of Limbo.

"You forgot me," she said, her voice laden with pain. "You moved on, but I'm still here. Trapped, waiting for you."

Dante clenched his fists, fighting against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him. "This isn't real. You're not real."

"But I am a part of you," the woman replied, stepping closer, her voice carrying a mixture of melancholy and reproach. "I am the weight you bear, the living memory of your failures. You can keep pretending it doesn't matter, but Limbo always knows the truth."

Dante stood silent, his gaze fixed on her—a figure from his past who seemed both real and distant. His expression remained stoic, yet his silence betrayed the internal tempest. He took a step forward, his hand curling into a tight fist.

"You're nothing but a shadow," he muttered, his voice low but cutting. "An echo of what I've left behind. You hold no power over me."

In a single, lightning-fast motion, Dante raised his hand, enveloped in crackling demonic energy. He struck, obliterating the figure before him with a force that sent shockwaves through the void. The woman shattered into a cascade of luminous fragments that fell like ash, staining his skin with dark marks—indelible reminders of the past.

He stood still for a moment, his fists clenched, his body motionless. His labored breathing was the only sign of the fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. When he finally looked up, a look of pure disdain etched itself onto his face.

"I may not be sitting on the throne," Dante said, his voice resonating through the emptiness. He tilted his head back, glaring at the pulsating, oppressive sky, his power flaring to life around him. "But what makes you think you can toy with me?"

The skies of Limbo quaked in response, as though the very fabric of reality trembled at Dante's defiance. That was when he saw it—a massive figure emerging from the shadows on the horizon.

A colossal demon descended slowly, its grotesque and terrifying form towering over the desolate landscape. Its upper half resembled a muscular, imposing man with pale, veined skin that pulsed with malevolent energy. Its fiery, coal-like eyes bore into Dante with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Below the waist, its body transformed into that of an enormous serpent, scales gleaming with a metallic dark green sheen as it writhed and coiled across the fractured ground.

"Minos," Dante said, recognizing the demon with a mixture of disdain and interest. The name slipped from his lips like a curse, dripping with contempt.