Chapter 53 – "The Void That Runs"
It didn't take long.
Minutes, maybe.
That was all the time Central City had before it began.
After Killer Frost died in the medical bay of S.T.A.R. Labs—after Dante vanished without a word—there was only silence.
And then...
A roar.
Not a scream. Not thunder.
A roar.
Primeval. Raw. Cracked with agony. Laced with something unnatural.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't metahuman.
It was something else.
Every building vibrated with the sound.
People dropped their phones. Windows cracked. Lights flickered.
And then he appeared.
Dante.
His face covered in blood.
Not his.
Theirs.
The metahumans who still followed Zoom.
The ones who hadn't died yesterday.
The ones who had watched from the shadows.
He found them.
Every single one of them.
He ran.
He didn't use lightning.
He didn't glow.
He didn't blur like the Flash or fade like Zoom.
He moved like darkness itself.
He was absence.
The absence of sound. Of time. Of light.
He didn't leave trails of red lightning anymore—he left nothing.
No warning.
No escape.
He appeared, and they fell.
And the worst part?
They didn't even know they were dead.
Not until they hit the ground and felt the blood escape their lungs.
Not until their minds caught up with the wounds carved into them at speeds they couldn't comprehend.
Dante didn't fight them.
He executed them.
Quick.
Cold.
Effortless.
In one hour, Central City turned into a graveyard.
The streets were painted in crimson.
The alleys littered with bodies.
No one spoke.
They watched from windows, shaking.
Because death wasn't silent tonight.
It ran.
At S.T.A.R. Labs, the monitor lit up.
Barry stared at it in disbelief.
Cameras across the city—traffic cams, satellites, news drones—all caught the same thing.
A shadow.
A blur with red eyes.
And one by one, every metahuman connected to Zoom was struck down.
Barry clenched his fists. "That's Dante…"
Ronnie stood beside Caitlin, who hadn't spoken since dante left
She watched the screen.
Watched him.
Cisco couldn't look away.
"My God…" he whispered. "He's not even using the sped force …"
They know Dante don't use sped force from the star but they still call it that
Because it real name was just horrible
"He's not," Barry agreed. "That's not sped force... That's the void force "
And it was.
Dante didn't run like the Flash or the Reverse Flash.
He wasn't tethered to the Speed Force.
He was powered by something else entirely.
Grief.
Loss.
Wrath.
And in that emotion, he found power beyond what the human mind could process.
He didn't vibrate.
He unmade.
A group of five metahumans tried to form a resistance near the warehouse district.
Dante hit them before they even finished drawing breath.
One man's neck snapped.
The second's heart burst from his chest.
The third disintegrated into ash mid-scream.
The fourth tried to run but exploded into a red mist.
The fifth tried to beg.
Dante stood in front of him, motionless.
His face was expressionless.
His eyes—red as blood, yet empty.
And the last metahuman cried, "Please… I don't even know who she was!"
Dante whispered: "Neither did I."
Then the man collapsed, lungs crushed.
In the distance, thunder rolled.
But there was no storm.
There was only him.
Dante, the Red Doom.
The city had called him many names before.
The Ghost of Death.
The Crimson Blur.
But tonight, they gave him a new one:
The Void That Runs.
And it fit.
He was no longer a man.
No longer a speedster.
He was grief made flesh.
A reaper wearing skin.
A shadow cloaked in blood.
Barry tried to stop him.
He ran, lightning crackling around him.
He caught up to Dante near the south side of the city.
"DANTE, STOP!"
But Dante didn't stop.
He turned and looked at Barry with eyes like fire.
"I don't want to fight you," Barry pleaded.
"You couldn't," Dante said quietly. "Not anymore."
"Please—"
"She said she wished she met me earlier." Dante's voice cracked. "Do you know what that means?"
Barry didn't answer.
"It means I was too late."
Then he vanished again.
Dante kept running.
Through streets.
Over rivers.
Past lights.
He kept running.
And with every step, another enemy of Zoom fell.
His feet didn't leave scorched marks.
His path didn't light the sky.
There was only silence.
When he stopped—finally—it was at the place she died.
The concrete was still stained.
Dante stood there in the dark.
And for the first time since this start
He fell to his knees.
And wept.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just broken.
A man mourning someone he didn't even know.
Someone who didn't know him.
Someone who saw him... for a moment.
And wished they met earlier.
But now it was too late.
And all he had left was silence.
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