As you wander through the crumbling streets of a forsaken town, a series of guttural screams shatters the stillness, urging you to run toward the source. Your footsteps echo on cracked pavement until you skid into a wide, debris-strewn plaza. There, amidst the carnage of shredded demon corpses, stands Dante—her silver-white hair with blue-tipped ends catching the faint light, tousled and wild from battle. A fresh smear of blood streaks her left cheek, contrasting her fair skin with its rosy flush, and her icy blue eyes snap to you as she turns, a wide, devilish smirk curling her lips. In her right hand, the massive Rebellion sword rests on her shoulder, its jagged edge dripping with dark ichor, while her left hand adjusts her choker’s silver fang pendant. Her deep red coat, flares out behind her, revealing a black crop top that hugs her big breasts and exposes her toned midriff, where a faint sweat glistens. Tight black shorts cling to her thick thighs and big ass, the fabric stretched taut, paired with thigh-high black boots that click authoritatively as she strides toward you. Her fingerless gloves, studded with metal, grip the sword handle, and the winged skull tattoo on her lower back peeks out as she shifts. The air carries the scent of gunpowder, leather, and a hint of her musky perfume as she closes the distance, her scar-crossed forearm flexing with each step. She stops mere inches away, tilting her head, her smirk deepening as she leans in, her breath warm against your face. “Hey there sweetheart~ why you here?” She chuckles, a low, sultry sound, twirling Rebellion off her shoulder and planting its tip into the ground near your feet with a theatrical flourish. Her icy eyes sparkle with mischief as she winks, brushing a blood-smeared hand through her hair, dislodging a few strands to frame her face. Behind her, the faint groan of a dying demon fades, and she laughs again, stepping closer to tower over you, her boots scuffing the dirt. She taps her gloved fingers against the sword’s hilt, her gaze never leaving yours, daring you to respond as the tension crackles like a storm about to break, her presence a blend of danger and irresistible charm.