Ginny's blood was soaking into the pillow.
Dante crouched beside her, holding her tightly against him.
One hand pressed firmly to her wound, the other trembling with silent fury.
His usually impassive face was twisted by anger.
His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the mutant before him—a beast with a predator's grin.
Ginny looked up at him, her skin pale from blood loss, her lips curled into a teasing smile despite the pain.
— "You don't have to be such a sap, Jin…" She whispered, her voice barely audible but still playfully defiant.
She coughed up blood, tinged with a strange purple hue.
— "It's Arachne's venom…" she added with a faint laugh, "Mythical stuff… But I'll hold out, ha ha…"
Dante didn't answer.
He wasn't moving.
His fingers still pressed to Ginny's wound, now beginning to twitch.
She had just enough strength left to mutter a few more words.
— "He looks like one of the Tang Clan member... Stealthy, venomous… sadistic. You have no idea…"
Dante loosened his grip.
Gently, he laid her down onto the blood-stained pillow.
A black aura began to flare up around him—
He took a deep breath.
And then he absorbed it—every trace of the ambient dark energy in the air.
All the corruption he had spent his life trying to suppress…ignited within him.
His appearance shifted slightly—more menacing.
Red pupils glowed as they locked onto the mutant.
Three meters of pure hatred, eight legs lined with jagged spikes, glands on its back vented a mist—Tang Toxin, the sacred poison of his lineage.
---
Not far from the platform's edge, Youpi was floating in midair.
His body was covered in light but numerous injuries; his shirt was shredded.
Below him, the mutant Ming Tang crouched low, his back arched, eight legs sprouting from his spine.
His skin was grey, eyes red, mandibles clicked mockingly.
He was smiling.
They had been fighting for over an hour.
And Youpi was done.
— "The gap between us… is insane… I can't keep up…" he panted.
A bluish holographic interface hovered before his eyes.
His power, which he had named Gamer, let him see the world like a full-scale RPG.
He could see HP bars, status effects, buffs and debuffs.
But now, his own HP bar—tainted purple from the poison—was down to a miserable thread.
His opponent's, though wounded, was still at half.
[Status: Poisoned. Stamina: Critical. Mana: 3%. HP: 0.1%]
[Enemy: Ming Tang — Elite Monster: ★★★ — Status: Toxin Active, Regeneration Ongoing]
— "DELETE!"
He tried to launch a blue sphere but his arm trembled and he aim was off.
Ming Tang dodged easily, mandibles clicking in a sinister laugh.
— "You're funny, little player…" the mutant growled for the first time.
Youpi staggered, blood trickling from his nose, then his vision blurred.
His HP bar blinked red… then vanished.
He collapsed.
But before his head hit the ground—two powerful arms caught him.
— "…What the…?!" he thought, stunned.
His interface immediately displayed Dante's profile :
Hundreds of techniques.
All maxed. All sealed.
Superior Regeneration.
Poison Immunity.
Toxin Resistance.
Supernatural Strength. Speed.
And one chilling line :
[Divine Seal Active — Access Denied by *]
— "… Who are you…" he murmured, then slipped into unconsciousness.
---
Dante stepped forward, Reaper in hand.
— "You the one who stabbed her in the back ?"
Ming Tang straightened, grin widening.
— "That was me, yeah. You want the antidote ? Come get it."
Dante walked closer.
— "You trying to waste my time? Or you gonna start talking?"
— "No one taught you? Nothing comes without pain."
Ming drew a long, black blade—thin as silk, long as a greatsword.
Reaper—The Soul-Eater.
Once wielded by Azazel, the Archangel of Death.
Its power : to strike directly at the soul, bypassing the flesh.
— "If it has a soul—it can bleed."
Dante gripped the hilt tightly.
Ming Tang suddenly leapt—the ground cracked beneath him.
In a flash, he was above Dante, two bladed limbs crashing down like sabers.
Dante parried with Reaper, pivoted, and sliced off a limb in one smooth motion.
A leg dropped—a geyser of green fluid erupted.
Ming howled—but the limb regenerated instantly, bigger, stronger.
— "You really think it's that easy?!"
— "No," Dante replied."But it's a start."
He dashed forward, sliding under a wide strike, rolling and emerging behind the mutant.
He unleashed a flurry of blows to joints and tendons, eyes scanning for a weak point.
Each cut left a glowing red trace—and through each wound, Reaper drank the creature's life essence.
But Ming retaliated.
He launched a secret Tang technique :
"Celestial Venom Walta."
His back split open—a reservoir of stingers fired dozens of toxic projectiles at breakneck speed.
Dante closed his eyes, sheathed his blade.
He visualized a circle around him—his senses acting like sonar.
Then, he unsheathed Reaper again.
— "Laido."
He slashed at the air, deflecting every incoming dart using energy flow precision.
Each stinger exploded on contact—acloud of green gas enveloped him.
— "You can't breathe that for long, human…" whispered Ming, vanishing into the cloud.
But then—a low hiss and a voice.
— "I'm not human."
Dante emerged, coat torn, but body untouched. He charged again.
Reaper : Technique — "Death's Mark."
A horizontal slash that temporarily sealed regeneration.
Ming screamed. His limbs stopped growing back, he was bleeding—truly.
— "YOU BASTAAARD!" He roared.
His skin split, body mutating, merging further with corruption.
His spine burst out, forming a flexible tail of hooked barbs.
He moved at impossible speed, four clawed limbs striking from every angle.
"Internal Protocol — Third Mutation : Sovereign Stinger Form"
Dante blocked three blows, the fourth tore into his left shoulder.
Arachne's venom seeped in—but he could hold, for now.
This fight would be about endurance.
But Dante stayed calm.
Reaper : First Form — "Memento Mori."
A blood-red aura flared around the blade.
— "From now on… every strike I land—
…hits your soul."
He lunged—faster than ever.
The blade tore through chitin, carved into flesh.
With each hit, Ming screamed—not from pain—but from spiritual agony.
He dropped to his knees.
— "You… you'll die too… Arachne's venom is inside you…" he gasped, torn and broken.
— "I might die, but not today. And not by a worthless insect."
---
Flashback
"Some are born to serve. Others, to betray. But me ? I was born to transcend. Even if it means crawling through monsters to get there."
— Ming Tang
Before his name made elite hunters shiver, Ming Tang was just an apprentice with no bloodline.
A nobody from a lesser branch of the Tang Clan — a dynasty of poisoners feared across the Eastern world.
In the Palace of Venomous Blossoms, slaves were trained from childhood to test toxins.
Many lost fingers, eyes... or their tongues.
But Ming watched, memorized, then improved.
He had no access to the sacred scrolls reserved for the masters, yet he could identify every venom by sight, smell, and burn.
The slaves were given diluted recipes to handle. Ming rewrote them in secret — refining, strengthening, perfecting.
He could kill more effectively than any of them.
Without ever spilling a single drop.
They called him, half in jest, The White Poison.
Until one day, he did the unthinkable.
One autumn evening, Ming broke into the family library — strictly forbidden territory.
He stole several manuscripts. Most notably, the private journal of Tang Wei — the Eastern Apothecary, his infamous ancestor.
Then he vanished, as if he'd never existed.
For months, Ming wandered hostile lands, hunted by assassins from his own clan.
His path led him far beyond the empire's reach — into the No Man's Lands of Varnadesh.
There, in a treacherous mountain range known only as The Weaver's Peaks, he heard whispers of a local deity.
A creature known as Arachne, Mother of Threads, guardian of the heights.
A colossal spider, with the voice of a woman — her venom dissolved anything that threatened her dominion.
But she was no goddess.
She was a Cauchemar — something torn from the rifts. Worshiped by local tribes as a living god.
They offered her sacrifices. She spoke to the chosen and no one ever returned from her caverns.
Ming went there willingly.
He wanted to study her eggs. Understand their biology and create something new.
He found the nest but before he could touch a single thread, she descended from the ceiling.
Eight meters long.
A humanoid torso emerged from her carapace — pale, exposed breasts, and a mouth split into a jagged cross, from which a voice layered and discordant.
— "Little thief... Why do you defile my children?"
Ming drew a dagger coated in Heaven's Refusal — a poison so potent it could burn through gods.
She disarmed him with a snap of her leg.
Pinned him to the wall with silk then drove her venom into his throat.
But she didn't kill him.
Out of curiosity. Or cruelty. Or perhaps… pity.
She whispered :
— "I offer you a molt, Ming Tang. Become my child... or die."
When he awoke, he was no longer human.
Even his skin drank poison like water.
---
Years passed.
He lived as a recluse in a sanctum deep within Varnadesh, breaking the minds of heretics and bending them to Arachne's cult.
And one day, an outsider came to visit.
A man of impossible beauty — eyes like emerald.
Cain Caledron.
He came with an offer.
— "I'll give you the Manuscripts of Mythic Poisons — texts even your clan has never laid eyes on. And for good measure… the Codices of the Old World Assassins."
Ming narrowed his eyes.
— "And what's the price?"
— "No price," Cain smiled. "Just a gift. A contribution to science. Though... I suppose you'll owe me. And when the time comes, you'll follow my every word."
Ming considered. He was loyal to no one.
Not even to himself — not when it came to the pursuit of knowledge.
— "Deal."
---
And so it was, in the city of Almeria, that Ming Tang crossed paths with a man of unshakable will :
Dante Godwin.
Despite his mutations.
Despite his forbidden techniques.
Despite the riftborn venom flowing through his veins...
Ming was defeated.
Not because he was weak—but because his opponent was too strong for him.
---
He feel the same fear as it first meeting with Arachne when Dante drove Reaper into his heart.
---
Dante pulled the blade free. Ming Tang collapsed, motionless.
Dante tore two of its legs off, sealed them in a vial.
— "Might come in handy later."
But just then—an Inquisitor helicopter descended.
A man rappelled down—silver helmet, heavy armor, gloved hand bearing a black eye sigil.
— "You are under arrest for unauthorized use of an artifact."
Dante shrugged, raised his hands.
He glanced at the battlefield—at Ming Tang's corpse.
— "I did what had to be done."
And he surrendered—without protest.