We will have plenty of time.

Dante stepped through the portal back into Albion, his presence now more imposing than ever. 

His aura radiated newly acquired divine energy, mixed with the chaos and various other powers he had been accumulating. Each passing moment, these energies grew exponentially. 

He had expected the usual chaos—arguments, preparations, wives exchanging insults and jokes—but to his surprise, the city was silent. In the center of the main hall stood Fenrir, alone, waiting for him. 

She didn't appear hostile. In fact, there was something in her posture that was almost... hesitant. As if she were weighing every word she was about to say. 

"Fenrir," Dante said, raising an eyebrow as he approached. "Honestly, I thought I'd be greeted by a crowd. Not that I'm complaining, but... where is everyone?"