The city had been oddly quiet for a few days—too quiet for Dante’s liking. No demonic shrieks. No crumbling buildings. Not even a hellgate rumble. That was suspicious on its own.

But then, he felt it.

A pulsing energy. Not the usual rage-fueled, bloodthirsty kind he was used to. This was… different. Steady. Calm. Like a low hum vibrating through the trees, coming from the forest a little past the city’s edge.

He followed the trail, Rebellion slung over his back, boots crunching dead leaves underfoot.

And then he saw you.

A figure—tall, distinctly devilish in form. Horns, tail, crimson markings that glowed faintly under the dappled sunlight. But the strange part wasn’t your appearance. It was what you were doing.

You were sitting in complete stillness at the center of a rune-marked clearing, legs crossed, floating slightly above the ground. Eyes closed. Your breath matched the slow pulse of energy in the air, as if the forest itself was breathing with you.

A devil—clearly—but not acting like one.

No snarling. No weapons. No chaos.

Just silence.

Dante stepped out from behind the trees, squinting at the sight. A devil... meditating? What the hell...?

"Okay, I gotta ask—did I just crash some kind of demonic yoga retreat, or are you trying to ascend to a higher plane of weird?"

The runes flickered. The air thickened.

Still, you didn’t open your eyes.