chapter 2 :

Dante walks calmly through the crowded streets, his imposing appearance contrasting with the joyful and macabre atmosphere around him. Around him, witches, goblins, zombies and other fantastical creatures wander, laughing and dancing under the light of the full moon. The sinister decorations and bursts of laughter mingle, creating an atmosphere where horror rubs shoulders with celebration. Dante, impassive, blends into this human tide, observing with detachment this masquerade which, for him, seems like child's play compared to the true darkness that he embodies. 

Suddenly, Dante is challenged by a young adult woman, about thirty years old, with silver-gray hair and piercing blue eyes.

The woman, amused, says:

"Say, you're funny disguised."

Dante, with an enigmatic smile:

"My disguise is timeless. And you, charming young lady, who are you?"

The woman answers with a bright smile:

"My name is Azriella, nice to meet you. And you?"

Dante, bluntly:

"My name is Dante."

Azriella, her eye sparkling with mischief:

"Like the famous primordial hybrid? That's deadly! I see why you don't need a disguise."

Dante, impressed by his repartee:

"What insight."

Azriella, her charming gaze:

"You're rather handsome. It's impossible not to notice you." 

Dante, with a smirk, continues:

"I know, it's obvious."

Azriella laughs softly:

"You really are self-centered, I like that."

Dante's eyes widen slightly, amused by her answer, and replies:

"Apart from telling me about things I already know, aren't you on your way to the festival?"

Azriella, with a mischievous look, shrugs:

"Maybe so... but who knows, maybe you're a better distraction than the festival." 

Dante, with a slight smile, replies:

"You'll tell me so much."

Azriella laughs softly, amused by his answer, before continuing:

"I was getting ready to go to a bar in the Square Mile before starting the festival. Would you like to join me?"

Dante, his eyes slightly narrowed, thinks for a moment. This coincidence piques his interest, but he keeps a relaxed appearance, hiding his true interest behind his natural charisma. 

Dante, with a smirk, replies:

"As luck would have it, I was planning on going there too."

Azriella, amused, grabs Dante's arm and wraps both her arms around his. She looks up at him with a charming smile and says:

"You have the manners of a gentleman." 

After a few minutes of walking, Dante and Azriella finally arrive in the lively Square Mile district. The atmosphere changes slightly, becoming more mysterious. Just off a dark alley, an atypical bar stands, adorned with gold decorations, illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. The place gives off an intriguing aura, a mixture of discreet luxury and mystery. Azriella, still clinging to Dante's arm, smiles as she looks at the bar's sign.

"This is the place. What do you think?" she whispers with a knowing look. 

Dante looks around the bar appreciatively and comments,

"It's exotic."

Azriella, out of breath and amazed by Dante's lack of fatigue, exclaims,

"We've been walking for 30 minutes and jogging lightly, and yet you haven't broken a sweat."

Dante, with a barely visible smile, retorts,

"I'm a sports enthusiast, that's why I don't sweat and you do." 

Upon entering the bar, Dante and Azriella are greeted by a mysterious and subdued ambiance. The place is sparsely populated, and haunting jazz music floats in the air, creating an elegant and intimate atmosphere. They take a seat across from the bartender, the polished wood and elegant decorations adding to the sophisticated ambiance.

Azriella, asking curiously, asks,

"What do you drink, Dante?"

Dante, with an air of refinement, replies,

"Oh, I prefer something old fashioned and refined."

The bartender, with a touch of professionalism, asks:

"May I offer you some scotch, sir?"

Dante, with a satisfied smile, replies:

"Wonderful, pour me some scotch."

Azriella, still with a relaxed air, adds:

"I would like some vodka, please." 

As they sip their drinks, Dante leans back slightly, holding his scotch in his right hand, and asks,

"Tell me about yourself, Azriella."

Azriella, smiling, replies,

"I work in customs, I'm an executive."

Dante, savoring his scotch, comments admiringly,

"Impressive, a woman in such an important position."

Azriella continues with a note of reflection,

"The world has changed indeed." 

Azriella, intrigued, asks:

"And you, Dante, where are you from?"

Dante, with a nonchalant air, replies:

"I come directly from France."

Azriella, surprised, exclaims:

"Oh my god, you are Parisian?"

Dante replies with an enigmatic smile:

"No, I travel where I want, and France was only a place of passage."

Azriella, curious, continues:

"Are you familiar with England?"

Dante, with a note of nostalgia in his voice, retorts:

"Of course, I lived here before." 

Azriella, with a curious smile, says:

"You said you travel a lot, is that correct?"

Dante, confirming in a calm tone:

"Absolutely."

Azriella continues, adding a touch of speculation:

"You must have a very promising job in terms of income."

Dante, with an amused smile, retorts:

"Good deduction."

Azriella, with a note of wisdom, replies:

"You know, money is not absolute happiness."

Dante laughs lightly, a smile playing on the corner of his lips:

"You are an executive, Azriella. I find you very hypocritical to say that." 

Azriella, in a sincere tone, explains:

"I'm telling you the facts. It's true, I have money, but it doesn't make me happy."

Dante, with a note of skepticism, replies:

"Really? You have an emerald bracelet, a gold watch, and you're telling me this crap? Come on, be honest with yourself."

Azriella, a little defensive, replies:

"So what? Money is meant to be spent, right? I don't see why you're judging me on my purchases."

Dante, with a slight smile, clarifies:

"I'm not judging you, I'm just making a comment about what you're wearing, that's different. And then, you brought it up because you feel a drop in your self-esteem compared to my lifestyle. Women tend to have oversized egos." He winks at her while sipping his scotch. 

Azriella, biting her lip, confides:

"Do you know why I'm not happy?"

Dante, intrigued, replies:

"Because you're desperately looking for love?"

Azriella, with a sigh, continues:

"That's it, but also, I haven't found a man who stands out from the ordinary and creates a supernatural excitement in me." 

Dante puts down his glass with a thoughtful look and says:

"You're digging in a coal mine hoping to find a diamond, understandable."

Azriella, biting her lip, suggests:

"Let's continue this discussion in a quiet corner, shall we?"

Dante lets a smile play on the corner of his lips and replies with a touch of mischief:

"But with pleasure." A Machiavellian smile forms on his face. 

Azriella and Dante head to a quiet corner behind the bar, where the atmosphere becomes even more intimate. There, away from prying eyes, they begin to kiss passionately, their gestures revealing an intense connection and growing complicity. The moment is filled with pleasure and sensuality, as they lose themselves in the moment, savoring every second together. 

Azriella clings to Dante's long hair, continuing to kiss him with passionate intensity.

Dante, a mocking smile on his lips, says,

"The vodka got the better of you."

Azriella, her gaze burning, replies,

"I wanted to do that from our first meeting earlier, so no." 

As they continue to share an intense moment, Azriella suddenly stops to stare at Dante. She notices with great concern that Dante's eyes have taken an unexpected turn. His eyes are now a sharp black, with purple-red lenses, giving off a piercing glow. He observes her with a new intensity, giving off a mysterious and almost threatening aura. 

Azriella, terrified, whispers:

"What are you?"

Dante, with a smirk, replies:

"A being who has managed to provoke a supernatural excitement in you."

Azriella tries to run away, but her efforts are in vain. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out, as if she is paralyzed by an invisible force. Dante stares at her with hypnotic intensity and explains:

"You can no longer move or make a sound, because once you met my gaze, I manipulated your mind and body to keep you calm." 

Dante gently tilts Azriella's head to the side, brushing her hair aside slightly. He looks at her with cold intensity and says, "Let's see what a modern woman tastes like, huh ?"

Azriella stands there frozen, tears streaming down her cheeks, unable to move or scream, overcome with terror and sadness. 

Sharp fangs slowly grow in Dante's mouth, his teeth becoming as sharp as blades. He slowly brings his fangs to Azriella's neck and begins to drink her blood, his eyes glowing with an ominous glow. Azriella, still paralyzed, lets out tears as Dante feeds. 

After a few seconds, Dante pulls away from Azriella's neck, wiping the blood from his mouth with cold delicacy. He looks at her with malicious satisfaction and says, "Not bad. You're a hair better than the women of my time. Congratulations."

Suddenly, Dante senses the presence of another person in the shadows. Without turning around, he says in an icy tone:

"You'd better retreat."

The person, in a firm and resolute voice, replies:

"I don't think so." His eyes suddenly turn black, plunging into a menacing darkness. 

The person continues in an imperative tone:

"Give me this young woman so that I can fill my quota of blood cells for today."

Dante, with a mocking smile, replies while keeping his hand in his pocket:

"Like a hyena that would steal the lion's prey? Do you know what happens to hyenas that try to do so?" 

The person grows sharp fangs and shouts,

"Give me what is rightfully mine."

Dante sneers narcissistically and replies,

"But man, the younger generations of this city are really badly brought up, aren't they?" 

The person cries out, with growing impatience: "You do not understand the outcome of the situation. I have spent these last weeks drinking blood every day without exception, and you are surely on your first victim. So, do not be a hero and give me this human."

Dante, while unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt at the forearms and folding them with calculated elegance, replies: "It is true that a vampire who consumes more human blood is stronger than one who does not, certainly. But that is only limited to ordinary vampires like you." 

Seeing the blood stains on Azriella's neck, the person's face suddenly distorts, with black veins appearing like sinister roots beneath his skin. In a monstrous voice, he cries out:

"Give me the girl, damn it!"

Dante, with an icy calm, replies:

"Certainly not. She is a precious tool for my ambitions."

As the vampire tries to attack Azriella with lightning speed, Dante grabs him by the neck with disconcerting ease, without even moving from his place. 

Dante, with calculated coldness, states,

"Since you seem to have no grasp of common language, I will make you understand in my theatrical way."

His eyes turn a deep black, dotted with crimson red lenses, as bestial growls echo around him. The tension in the air becomes palpable as he stares at the other vampire with relentless intensity. 

Dante, with a fluid and controlled gesture, throws the vampire against the wall. The impact is so violent that the wall cracks and shatters under the force of the assault, the debris falling in a chaotic rain around the room. The vampire collapses, stunned and injured, groaning in pain. Dante, without even turning to observe the result of his attack, focuses on Azriella. He reaches out to her with an almost royal elegance, his fingers brushing the air with an unusual softness. Around Azriella, a dark glow emerges, unfolding into a protective layer that gently envelops the young woman. This layer, woven from the very essence of darkness, begins to repair the wounds 

Azriella, gently shaken by the return to consciousness, slowly opens her eyes. The dim light of the bar gently wakes her up, and she sits up slightly, confused. The wounds inflicted by the vampire have disappeared, and she feels strangely good. Dante, having anticipated her awakening, is already in front of her, his intense and calculating gaze meeting hers. In an instant, Dante exercises a subtle but powerful mental manipulation, carefully erasing Azriella's disturbing memories while preserving the pleasure of their meeting.

The charm of his gaze works with surgical precision. Azriella, a dreamy smile on her lips, seems soothed. She sits up, turns to Dante, and, without any hesitation, she gives him an affectionate hug, as if nothing abnormal had happened. Her gait is serene, and despite the confusion, a quiet certainty invades her 

Dante, thwarting the effects of the impact against the wall, instantly crosses the rubble and finds himself in the lair of the abandoned church. The scene is marked by the aura of abandonment: broken pews, icons disfigured by time, and a diffuse light filtering through the broken stained glass windows. The place seems almost frozen in time, the atmosphere charged with a palpable melancholy.

As Dante emerges into this mysterious space, the vampire, determined to regain the advantage, takes advantage of the surprise to launch a lightning attack. His movements are fast, almost invisible, but Dante, with infallible precision, anticipates each gesture. As the vampire prepares to strike, Dante turns towards him with disconcerting agility and executes a dry and precise strike on the back of his opponent's neck.

The blow is delivered with such force and speed that the vampire is thrown against the ground with incredible violence

Dante, with an expression of cold determination, grabs the vampire by the neck and lifts him up with disconcerting ease. The vampire, still groggy and disoriented from the previous blow, struggles in vain against Dante's relentless grip. His eyes, marked by terror and defiance, fix on Dante with palpable hatred.

The vampire spits out his words defiantly: "I will not tell you anything at all." His voice trembles with stubborn arrogance despite his precarious situation.

Dante, icy calm, replies with implacable firmness: "If you wish to continue to satisfy your voracious appetite, it would be wiser to cooperate. Otherwise, I will send you straight to hell." 

The vampire's phone suddenly vibrates in Dante's pocket. A slight smile plays on Dante's lips as he removes the device with calculated nonchalance. He observes the screen and notes that it is a modern phone, apparently used for frequent communication.

Dante, keeping his subtle smile, turns to the vampire, whose defiant air begins to waver under the intensity of the situation. In a calm but forceful voice, he declares: "I will ask you one question. Be honest, and I will spare your life."

The vampire, although visibly weakened, nods in agreement, understanding that he has little left to lose. Dante continues, with implacable precision: "Do your collaborators contact you by phone to communicate?"

The vampire, with marked hesitation, nods in agreement, his resignation palpable.

Dante, satisfied with the answer, nods with an almost imperceptible gesture. But before the vampire has time to breathe, Dante waves his hand with murderous fluidity. He slices the vampire in two with a clean movement, the action being so fast that it is almost invisible.

The vampire's body separates into two pieces, and immediately, a burst of sinister green flames invades the pieces, reducing them to ashes with a macabre crackle. The purifying fire quickly consumes the remains, leaving behind a burning smell and remnants of ash floating in the air. Dante watches the scene with satisfaction and puts the phone back in his pocket and continues on his way