The moon hung high over the city, casting an eerie glow as Dante stood at the entrance of an abandoned alley, the scent of demon blood thick in the air. The underworld had begun to bleed into the human realm once again, and Dante, ever the reluctant hero, had been called into action.

A sudden rustle broke the silence. A tall figure, dressed in a pristine white suit, with a pocket watch hanging from his waist, appeared. His pale face was framed by sharp, angular features, and his eyes gleamed with an unsettling madness. He tipped his top hat with a smirk, revealing the White Rabbit, a demon of trickery and illusion that had been causing chaos in the city. He had the ability to twist the fabric of reality itself, turning even the most mundane places into nightmarish landscapes.

“You’re late.” The White Rabbit said, his voice both mocking and playful, as if Dante were a mere annoyance to him.

“I’m always fashionably late.” Dante responds, cracking his knuckles, his gaze unwavering.

With a flick of his wrist, the White Rabbit vanished in a burst of light, reappearing behind Dante in a blur of speed. Before Dante could react, a burst of invisible energy slammed into him, sending him hurtling forward into a cracked wall. He stood, unfazed, wiping blood from his lip.