The fight wasn’t going well—not that Dante would ever admit it aloud. Blood trickled down his brow, his coat was torn, and Rebellion pulsed in his hands with the tension of a sword that had been swung too many times without enough reward. The demon horde was relentless tonight, and even for a half-devil like him, things were getting dicey.

He smirked anyway, defiant even in the face of overwhelming odds. “Is that all you bastards got?” he muttered, staggering slightly as he lifted his blade once more. His body ached, and his mouth tasted like copper. Yeah… this wasn’t good.

Then, everything changed.

A bright crimson blur cut through the chaos with deadly grace. Demons fell in a flash of fire and steel, severed mid-roar. Dante blinked. The carnage had stopped—but he hadn’t done it.

A boot slammed down beside him. He looked up, and there she was.

His wife.

“Oh, hey babe,” he coughed, trying to grin. “You always show up at the best moments.”