Chapter 4: Rebirth in the Flames
Dante ran.
The transport shuddered violently, warning sirens blaring in his ears. The drone above recalibrated, its sleek barrel humming with power as it locked onto him.
Not today.
Dante twisted, dodging just as a searing energy blast ripped past him, melting through the metal floor. His instincts had never been this sharp before—his body moving with a speed that wasn't human. He should have questioned it, but right now, survival came first.
Lyra was already ahead, moving with deadly precision as she reached a side hatch and slammed her palm against the control panel. The door groaned but refused to open.
"Dammit," she hissed, turning to him. "We need to—"
She stopped.
Her green eyes widened, scanning him as if truly seeing him for the first time.
Dante frowned. "What?"
Then he saw it.
Through the shattered remains of a reflective console, his own face stared back at him.
His breath caught.
The man in the reflection was not the Dante Kieran he remembered.
His once-messy black hair had grown longer, now falling past his shoulders in wild, flowing strands. But it wasn't just the length—it had a strange, almost ethereal quality, as if the strands subtly shifted under the dim light, like silk woven from shadows and stardust. His skin was smoother, his already strong features now sharpened to an unnatural perfection—his jawline more defined, cheekbones more sculpted, lips slightly fuller. He looked… inhumanly perfect.
But his eyes.
The once-dull brown was gone. In its place, a brilliant, molten gold. The color burned like liquid metal, flickering faintly as if something ancient had awakened inside him.
His heart pounded. What the hell did they turn me into?
Lyra's gaze lingered. "They really did it," she murmured, almost in awe.
Dante snapped his gaze back to her. "Did what?"
She opened her mouth to answer—but then—
BOOM!
The transport tore apart.
The explosion hit like a shockwave, the force ripping the entire vessel in half. The metal walls buckled and screamed as the shockwave sent Dante and Lyra flying.
Time slowed.
Dante's mind registered everything in fragments—the rupturing steel, the roaring flames, the rush of cold night air as the transport split open, exposing the endless sky. Sparks flickered around them like dying stars. Lyra's body spiraled away from him, her form tumbling weightlessly as debris followed her descent.
Instinct took over.
Dante moved.
Before he even had time to think, his body reacted. His muscles surged, power flooding his limbs. He twisted midair, stretching out a hand toward Lyra as the ground rushed up to meet them.
Then—
Impact.
They slammed into the earth, the sheer force of the crash sending a shockwave through the terrain.
Dante gasped as his body collided with the hard ground, his vision flickering. The world spun violently, the pain dulled by adrenaline and something else—something unnatural coursing through his veins.
Silence followed.
For a long moment, Dante lay still, his breath ragged. Smoke curled into the sky, the remnants of the transport burning in the distance. The scent of scorched metal and dirt filled his nose.
A groan.
His gaze snapped to the side.
Lyra lay a few feet away, her jumpsuit torn, a gash bleeding across her forehead. But she was alive. Barely conscious, but alive.
Dante exhaled, relief washing over him.
Then—
A rustling sound.
His golden eyes narrowed as he pushed himself up. His body felt different—lighter, stronger, as if his very muscles had been reforged. His fingers twitched, and for the briefest moment, golden veins flickered beneath his skin before fading.
What am I?
The rustling grew closer.
Dante's head snapped toward the shadows of the nearby wreckage, his senses sharper than ever. Something—or someone—was coming.
And they weren't alone.
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End of chapter 4.