Chapter 83 – The End Before the Beginning
They had a plan.
It was simple. Fast. Precise.
Dante, Barry, and Jay would use speed, misdirection, and the Void Force in perfect sync to create a split-second opening — just long enough for Dante to strike the Black Order directly in the chest, where they hoped his armor was weakest.
But plans didn't work on gods.
Especially not this one.
Because the Black Order wasn't a god.
He was worse.
He was the end of gods.
The end of time.
The end of all things.
And before they could even finish executing the first phase of their plan, he vanished.
Then reappeared — behind Dante.
He grabbed him by the leg.
Dante's reaction was fast — lightning-fast — but not fast enough.
The Black Order ran. Not across Central City. Not through buildings or highways.
He ran through time itself.
The city disappeared. The skyline dissolved into a blur of stars, decades, centuries — entire civilizations flashing by like dying embers.
Dante struggled, void lightning flaring around him, but the grip on his leg was unbreakable. They weren't running in space. They were hurtling through the chronoscape — the timeline shattered around them.
Suddenly, they stopped.
The year 1200.
The sky was gray. The air thick with fire and plague.
The Black Order slammed Dante into the dirt with such force the earth cracked beneath them.
Dante groaned.
Before he could move, a black boot collided with his stomach. Then again.
And again.
The third kick made his ribs explode in pain. Blood gushed from his nose, ears, mouth. Even his eyes welled red. All seven holes in his face were pouring life.
The Black Order stood still.
Then, without a word, he grabbed Dante's limp body again.
Another jump.
Another wound in time.
The year 1507.
Rivers of magma flowed through volcanic valleys. Dante could smell ash before he could scream.
His face was smashed against a volcano's jagged side, sizzling against the heat. His skin peeled, and pain danced through every nerve like electricity.
But he didn't scream.
Not once.
Instead... he looked.
And in that moment, as his face burned, his eyes saw something strange.
Something familiar.
These times — the years the Black Order had chosen — they weren't random.
Dante knew these years.
Long ago, when he was still human, before his body was reborn through the Void, he had dreamed of these centuries. He used to read history, longing to time travel and see them with his own eyes. The Crusades. The rise of empires. The old fire of the earth.
The Black Order knew this.
He knew everything.
The armored monster leaned in, voice like a whisper from beneath his demonic helmet. "You are predictable."
Dante's eyes snapped open.
That was the second time the Black Order had said those words to him.
Once during their last fight.
Now again, across centuries.
Dante opened his mouth to speak — but was grabbed by the leg once more.
One more run through time.
One more plunge into madness.
But this time... they didn't land in history.
They landed in origin.
The air was raw. The sky was empty. There were no stars.
Only swirling darkness and cracked light struggling to form shape.
They stood at the edge of everything.
The first day on Earth.
The Black Order stepped forward like a priest before creation.
"The first day," he said softly. "A good start... for an end."
Dante stood shakily, breathing heavily. His face was raw, burnt. His chest heaved. But his eyes burned with something greater than pain.
He looked at the Black Order. "Who... are you?"
There was silence.
Then, beneath the metal mask, came a soft, twisted smile.
"I am your purpose," the Black Order said.
And then the sky changed.
A shadow fell over the earth.
Both of them looked up.
An eye — not a moon, not a planet — an eye so massive it blotted out the stars. Its pupil alone was the size of continents. It blinked, and the wind howled like a dying god.
The eye of a creature
One of the first creatures on earth
The Prime Being.
The One that watched all births... and ended all stories.
The Black Order looked up without fear.
Dante looked up without fear.
Only anger.
And together, they spoke — voices in unison, sharp like blades.
"Piss off."
And just like that...
They ran.
Not through time.
But to each other.
A million punches collided in a single second.
Each strike echoed like a thunderclap across the cosmos. Each hit collapsed moments, shattered gravity, tore light apart. Dante's fists blurred — void lightning cracking, his aura glowing a deep crimson-black.
The Black Order's strikes were like collapsing stars — dense, ruthless, endless.
They weren't men anymore.
They weren't even beings.
They were forces. Ancient. Eternal. Wrathful.
And then, the Eye blinked again.
It spoke.
A voice so large it shattered mountains in its wake.
"YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, BLOOD SPEEDSTER."
Reality convulsed.
The earth twisted.
And in the blink of that colossal eye...
They were gone.
---
In a flash of light and thunder, they landed back where they had begun — Central City. The exact same broken street, the same smoldering cars, the same shattered glass.
Jay and Barry stood wide-eyed, frozen.
It had only been a second for them.
But Dante...
He was different.
He grabbed the Black Order by the head mid-motion and slammed him into the concrete so hard the ground cratered.
Lightning exploded from Dante's body — red and black, pure Void Force — but it wasn't flickering anymore.
It was raging.
His eyes weren't glowing.
They were burning — like twin suns forged in hellfire.
He wasn't Dante anymore.
He was The Red Doom again.
A being of wrath, reborn in fury.
Barry took a step back, watching in awe.
His voice barely a whisper. "That's... impossible."
The Black Order's helmet hissed as he looked up from the crater, voice calm.
"Impossible is a word... that exists in the dictionary of fools."
The moment Dante heard that
He paused
" what do you think Dante."
It wasn't the name or how did the black order know it
It was how he said it
The voice
The calm
The smirk behind the broken mask
And instantly — like a switch flipped — Dante froze.
His lightning vanished.
His eyes dulled.
His body trembled.
His lips parted as a whisper escaped.
"No..."
The Black Order's voice, now almost human, held something dark. Not hatred. Not even superiority.
It held knowing.
He had said the name on purpose.
And it worked.
Dante stumbled back, like something inside him broke.
A crack in the armor. A fracture in the fury.
The Black Order stood tall and still, then vanished in the wind like a ghost slipping between realities.
Gone.
---
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