In 1994, Dante, a primordial hybrid forgotten by time, arrives in London after millennia of absence. The city has changed radically, leaping with energy, modernity, and hurried souls. But behind its neon lights and frenetic pace, Dante senses the echoes of a world he barely recognizes, invaded by the vestiges of his past. As he walks the streets of this transformed London, he seeks to find his place in a world he no longer understands, while awakening ancient forces that the city itself seems to have buried.
Dante, after walking the busy streets of London, finds refuge in an old hotel far from the city center. The place is modest, almost forgotten, perfect for going unnoticed. He settles there for a while, observing this new world that evolves so quickly around him. Between the shadows of the night and the whispers of the wind, he meditates on the reasons for his return and prepares his next move, while the city, unknowingly, welcomes a being whose presence could upset its balance.
Dante, settled in his room, hears a knock at the door. The hotel worker stands there, a room service trolley in her hand. With a professional smile, she introduces him to the establishment's specialties: a beef Wellington with roasted vegetables and a typical English apple pie.
"I took the liberty of adding a city guide, in case you want to explore London," she says, placing a small booklet on the table. " she says
Dante, after closing the door behind the hotel worker, stares for a moment at the tourist guide on the table. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips. He murmurs to himself, in a low, icy voice:
"Poor mortal... She doesn't know that I was the lord of this country even before her blood flowed through the veins of her ancestors."
He turns back to the window, contemplating the sunset
Dante leans closer to the window, A mixture of contempt and nostalgia tinges his gaze as he murmurs,
"And to think that before, it was just a remnant of gang fights and supernatural creatures... Time has repaired London a lot, but that's only one facet."
He lets out a small laugh, knowing that beneath this facade of modernity and tranquility, the shadows of his past and occult forces are never far away.
As he absently flips through the guidebook, Dante comes across the last page, where a colorful poster is pasted up, advertising a "Shadow Party." Attendees are invited to dress up as supernatural creatures for an evening of fun. He raises an eyebrow, amused by the irony of the situation.
"A perfect opportunity for rats to come out and sink their teeth in," he murmurs with a smirk. "Ah, humans... always dancing with death, without even understanding its significance."
He puts the guidebook down, his mind already on this party, a perfect opportunity to hunt down those who hide behind masks far more dangerous than mere disguises.
Dante, lost in thought, suddenly hears the sound of discreet footsteps several hundred meters from his room. His superhuman hearing picks up every echo of the slowly approaching footsteps, they try to make themselves inconspicuous. His gaze hardens, and he straightens slightly, all his senses on alert.
"It seems the rats are more impatient than expected," he murmurs with a hint of contempt.
The door bursts open, and two men silently enter the room. The woman, armed with a metal saber, scans the dark corners of the room while the man, armed with a pistol, covers her back. They advance cautiously, searching for a presence... but they find nothing.
Stunned, they exchange a look, the heavy silence weighing in the air. Suddenly, before they can react, Dante appears like a shadow behind the woman. In a flash, he grabs her neck with a powerful hand and lifts her effortlessly off the ground. Her feet kick the air as her eyes widen in terror.
Dante slowly turns to the man, his eyes turning a pitch black with a crimson-red glow piercing through the darkness. In a cold, threatening voice, he says,
"Drop that gun, you fool. Before your bullet even comes out, you'll be gone."
Terror is written all over the man's face as he watches the terrifying power in Dante's eyes, unable to look away.
Dante, a smirk tugging at his lips, squeezes the woman's neck lightly to show that he won't hesitate to silence her. He stares at the man, his black eyes with the crimson-red flashes now more piercing.
"You're much stronger than we've been told," the man stammers, fear palpable in his voice.
Dante, with calculated coldness, replies, "This is where it gets interesting. Tell me, who sent you?"
Dante tilts his head slightly, his smile widening into an almost amused but still menacing expression. He maintains his hold on the woman, his eyes sparkling with a hellish glint.
"Come now, this is your ticket to survival. Let it go and you can go," he says in a smooth voice. "Say nothing and you'll become a message to your employers."
The man, caught between fear and pressure, hesitates, the consequences of his silence clearly emerging in his mind.
The man, in despair, shouts:
"I really don't know! We just got a tip from a call, and the person in question threatened to kill our families if we didn't come and execute you."
Dante, his eyes still plunged into darkness, raises an eyebrow with icy interest. He answers in a deep voice:
"Do you know who I am?"
The man, his eyes wide with fear, cries out,
"We are hunters of supernatural beings, but it has been almost ten years since we have seen any supernatural activity. When we received this information, we immediately went to solve the problem to earn money."
Dante, with a mocking smile, raises an eyebrow at the desperate excuse. He replies in a condescending tone,
"Ah, hunters. You all rush straight to your death for a few pieces of silver. I admire your courage, but in reality, it is absurd."
The man, trembling, continues:
"And for your question, we were just told that you are a normal vampire."
Dante tilts his head slightly, an amused but cold smile on his lips.
"Me, a normal vampire?" he says with a hint of contempt in his voice. "Those who gave you this information hid the truth from you. They probably wanted you dead. That said..." He lets the threat hang in the air, a sinister glint in his eyes.
Dante, with calculated coldness, simply states:
"My name is Dante."
He throws the woman violently against the wall, the shock making her faint instantly. The man, terrified, watches the scene, his eyes wide.
"Dante?" he cries, his voice betraying panicked fear. "The legendary hybrid?" His eyes freeze in terror, realizing that he is facing a living legend, far more dangerous than he had imagined.
The man, gripped by palpable terror, cries out:
"Sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you! Otherwise, I would have refused the offer."
Dante, his expression softening slightly, replies in a calm voice:
"Come on, get up. To err is human."
His eyes return to normal, the deep black and the crimson-red glow disappearing, giving way to a calmer appearance but still imbued with icy authority.
In an instant, Dante snatches the gun from the man's shaking hands. He looks at him with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.
"Do you really think bullets or a metal saber can kill me?" he says icily. "Sure, metal can kill average vampires if it's driven through the heart, but I'm on a whole other level."
With disconcerting ease, Dante shatters the gun into pieces with a single hand, the fragments falling to the ground with a thud. He watches the man, his display of strength reinforcing his victim's terror and amazement.
Dante, having broken the gun, fixes the man with a merciless stare.
"Where did you get this tip exactly?" he asks, his voice filled with an underlying threat.
The man, trembling, replies:
"If I give it to you, will you promise to let us go?"
Dante, showing a sign of impatience, replies curtly:
"My patience has its limits, young man. Let it go."
The man says: at miles square, in a bar.
Dante replies: Do you think you deserve to live? .
The man continues: yes of course.
Dante with a smirk: if you deserved to live, you should not have crossed my path.
Dante pierces the man's torso in an instant Before he reacts.
Dante withdraws his hand, holding the man's lifeless heart, with an impassive expression. With one step, he is instantly in front of the fainted woman. His movements are of supernatural precision, demonstrating the total mastery he exercises over the situation.
Dante crouches down in front of the unconscious woman and, in one swift, merciless motion, snaps her neck, ensuring she never wakes up, his face remaining implacable as he finishes his work.
Dante dons his black jacket with an innate elegance, the fabric draping perfectly over his shoulders. He picks up a thin, thorn-shaped fragment of wood, lifting it with measured delicacy to his mouth. After closing the door with a leisurely gesture, he straightens up . With a subtle smile and unwavering confidence, he murmurs in a suave voice, "Let the party begin."
Dante steps out of the hotel, entering the night illuminated by a bright full moon. The street is vibrant with palpable energy, teeming with people dressed as supernatural creatures for the party. Laughter and shouting mix with the colorful lights, creating an atmosphere that is both festive and chaotic. Dante, with an imposing presence, observes the scene with cold indifference, his eyes scanning the crowd in anticipation of discovering what entertainment this special night has in store for him.