Tiredness

Dante knelt, his impassive hands gripping Morrigan's empty body. His mind had been consumed by his demons, and now... her body was nothing but a vessel without a soul, the immortal form of a goddess of the end, lifeless and of no use.

The weight of the woman meant nothing to him; she was just another broken piece in his game, a sacrifice for the lesson he sought to teach.

He lifted her effortlessly, her body limp and inert, the expression of pain and despair still etched on her face.

The golden light that surrounded him intensified, making the scene around them distort once again, disintegrating space into a dizzying spiral of color and void.

With an almost imperceptible movement, Dante began to walk toward the edge of that abyss of nightmares. The world around him seemed to give way, space folding in on itself, while he, unchanging, carried Morrigan's corpse with him.