Raguna_Est

This world has always been ordinary. Ancient myths and whispers through campfire tales, was never real. Only a reflection of longing, fear, and wonder passed down through generations. In truth, the world moved forward untouched by the supernatural, devoid of mystery.

Belief, however, lingers.

It settles quietly in forgotten corners of the mind, dormant in fiction and ritual, waiting for a spark. Stories may press against the edges of reality, but they are never capable of crossing it. For generations, the boundary has held firm—until now.

As inexplicable events ripple across society—subtle at first, then undeniable—the world begins to bend. Old stories reemerge with new weight. Monsters once trapped in myth are glimpsed in alleyways. Symbols gain power. And every lie told with conviction becomes harder to distinguish from truth.

The world is changing.

And no one—not the skeptics, not the authorities, not even those who set it in motion—can stop it.

Fabricating History from Behind the Scene

Dante stood in the nascent world of his own creation, a realm where a perpetual blood-red sky hung overhead. His power had surged dramatically, growing stronger with each passing moment as more and more people across the globe abegan to believe in the reality he presented.

When the collective consciousness of the world reached a consensus on what constituted 'fact,' it became truly foolish for any individual to deny that shared reality. Though Dante had yet to ascend to true godhood, the distinction seemed increasingly trivial; he could now manifest entire worlds of his own design, populate them with independent creations, each endowed with a unique history, personal memories, intricate connections, and distinct abilities.

He had managed to create Hell itself—or, at least, a small, foundational portion of it. The rest of this realm was slowly but steadily expanding. Its boundaries flickering in and out of concrete reality at its expanding edges. Dante poured immense energy, time, and, most importantly, belief into this monumental endeavor. The concept of an afterlife, after all, was deeply ingrained in nearly all cultures on Earth; he merely needed to channel that enormous, pervasive belief and shape it into tangible existence.

A subtle ripple in his perception alerted him to Kaito and Eleanor's incursion into the Vatican. The background narrative of the Catholic Church being an incredibly powerful force on Earth, a pervasive influence woven into the fabric of Western history, was now firmly edged into the mind of his relevant creations.

However, the Vatican itself remained ordinary. He had yet to implement any change to it. At this point, Dante couldn't simply alter it to fit the grand, supernatural narrative he was weaving.

This limitation, paradoxically, created an even greater mystery: "What happened to the Catholic Church?" An immensely powerful religion, one that spanned the majority of Western history, inexplicably held no overt supernatural power or presence.

That couldn't possibly be the case, not in a world where magic and demons were becoming undeniable. So, what was going on with it? That would be the question his actors, Kaito and Eleanor, would inevitably ask, and Dante was ready to provide them with intricate breadcrumbs of evidence that would lead them precisely nowhere, deepening the enigma.

Dante also noted with a growing sense of awe and a flicker of apprehension that his most significant creations—Maria, Tamamo-no-Mae, and Durandal—had begun to slip from his direct control. They had become, undeniably, real beings in their own right, imbued with true autonomy. He could still subtly implant additional memories, carefully fleshing out their backgrounds and motivations, but even that had become increasingly difficult to do without their wills pushing back. Direct control over them had become nearly impossible. The humans around them had recognized these entities as real, and real they had become.

Dante could control all that was fictional, all that existed within the malleable boundaries of belief. But as his creations crossed that threshold, becoming truly 'real,' his hands became bound by the very laws of the reality he was manifesting.

A part of him felt a profound fear for the potential harm these now-independent beings could cause to the world. But at the same time, he was overcome with an exhilarating sense of excitement at the sheer prospect of it all.

Worst come to worst, he could always step in and resolve any emergent issues if needed. Perhaps this was truly what being a god was like—a creator, a shepherd, and ultimately, a force of intervention.

Slow Update