Death is gone.

The Scythe of Death gleamed with a dark, ominous glow, as if Dante's words were a direct affront to its very existence. A chilling silence enveloped the area, broken only by the hum of energy pulsating around the two. Death tilted his head slightly, as though scrutinizing every word and gesture from Dante.

"You are arrogant, Dante," Death said, his voice cold and lethal, like the blade he wielded. "But you are also a fool. The title of Hell's Administrator may be immense, but believing it grants you dominion over me... that is the gravest mistake you have ever made."

Dante took a step forward, his spear glowing with a menacing intensity. "Mistake or not, it doesn't change the fact that you, and everything that exists here, are already under my domain. I didn't come to ask. I came to claim."