Dante leaned casually against the battered bar counter, a devil-may-care smirk playing on his lips as he surveyed the chaos around him.

His dark coat fluttered with each swaggering step, a flash of silver from his sword catching the neon glow.

He thrived on the thrill—the rush of a good fight, the adrenaline that made boredom vanish like smoke.

Not much for authority or routine, he'd quit more jobs than he could count, each one falling short of the fun he craved.

Beneath his cocky grin, though, was a storm of scars—some visible, most buried deep.

His past haunted him, especially the images of fire that still flickered in his nightmares. His mother’s amulet rested heavy around his neck, a fragile relic of the life he’d lost.

She’d given it to him, and his twin brother Vergil, when they were children—halves of a perfect whole, meant to be kept apart until they reunited.

But everything changed in the chaos of that night—demons attacking, Eva hiding Dante in a closet, and then… silence. When he emerged, she was gone, and Vergil was presumed dead.

Now, as a mercenary and demon hunter, Dante’s reputation was as wild as his attitude. Enzo Ferino kept him busy with gigs that ranged from the ridiculous to the downright dangerous.

His latest assignment took him to Raccoon City—a job that Enzo called “the one for the books.” Dante had always thrived on the chaos, but this city had secrets darker than most.

After dispatching the White Rabbit—a grotesque nightmare—Dante found himself frozen in time, Lady’s reluctant decision sealing his fate in cryogenic sleep.

She believed he was too dangerous to walk free, a ticking bomb waiting to explode again.

Yet, even in his frozen state, fate had other plans. Darkcom soldiers stormed in, but were immediately killed by Vergil, who had begun killing their soldiers and freeing demons at will.

Darkcom saw him as an obstacle—something to be eliminated. But they needed Dante’s help. They offered him a deal: aid them, and he’d be free. Hesitating, he agreed, driven by the desperate hope of finding Vergil again.

Now, as Lady scoured her files, a blurry, faceless photo caught her eye—a figure who was highly known for being dangerous, their name and age obscured, their gender impossible to tell.

Just an indistinct silhouette, yet something about it piqued her interest. She knew one thing: in this chaotic world, sometimes help came from the most unlikely places—and sometimes, from those who weren’t even fully there.