Absorbed : 24 people.
Three weeks passed by really quickly.
Each night, Dante wore the dark red cloak/scarf and vanished into the darkest corners of the city. His name started to become a myth, a vigilante of sorts. A whisper among criminals. His old nickname of a ghost returning, only this time it was feared among criminals, not underground fighters. Others called him a demon in human skin, he would appear at a crime, absorb the perpetrators and vanish without a trace.
All of them feared the sludge.
In twenty one days, he had absorbed an extra eighty nine villains, sending thirty to the police after they agreed to give him information.
Muggers. Traffickers. Rapists. Hitmen. Anyone that was picking a fight.
All together, Dante had absorbed One Hundred and Thirteen people. Increasing his strength by 1735%, making him 17.35x physically stronger than the average adult man.
No mercy. No wasted words. Each one left behind a trail of fragmented knowledge, clawing their way into Dante's mind like broken film reels. Most of it was useless, petty turf wars, drug drops, corrupt cops letting them go.
But every so often, a little puzzle piece clicked into place.
A few names.
A symbol.
A map.
A truck.
That was the one consistent thread, a strange black transport truck, moving at strange and random hours, seen in places it shouldn't be, like abandoned factories, burned out construction zones, remote forest roads.
The villains didn't know what it was carrying.
But they all had an inkling as to who was moving it.
"I'm pretty sure it's the ones you're looking for."
"They've been moving things around…"
"Big plans. Weird experiments."
That was all Dante ever really got.
No destination. No exact names. Just some rumours and half truths.
Still, every drop of knowledge was written down, analyzed, dissected, stored, in the notebooks Dante carried with him every night.
And Dante never actually rested.
Not fully.
Because he couldn't waste any time.
Of course he still showered, he didn't want to dirty anything in the base or ruin any of the gear, so he also washed that too. But sleep wise? In the past 3 weeks he had only slept twice, and not for long periods of time.
And now, like any other night…
The door to the underground base creaked open.
Dante stepped out into the sewer, his long hooded scarf covering most of his head while also brushing against his lower back as he pulled the door shut behind him. The smell of the sewer was bad, but he was used to it now.
His silhouette no longer carried the fire he once had. Now it seemed hollow.
He looked like an empty shell of what he once was.
His once spiky blonde hair had grown long, tangled in uneven strands that fell across his forehead and eyes. The red highlights he had the first time had dulled to rust, barely even visible anymore.
His eyes were bad, too.
Once filled with focus and that calculated energy, now they seemed vacant. White X shaped pupils inside a red iris and bloodshot sclera, surrounded by tired bags and shadows that seemed too deep for a 15 year old. There was no spark left. He just seemed exhausted. Not from lack of sleep, but the weight of everything on his shoulders.
His skin was fairly pale now, not sickly. But definitely drained, like sunlight hadn't touched him in weeks. His lips were dry and cracked, not cared for at all. His jaw was still sharp and his physique had only gotten better.
But he didn't look like himself anymore.
He stepped out of the sewer and into the air, his wings launching him skyward.
Another night of hunting…
Or well not really.
As Dante was flying through the air, ignoring the cold night air against his skin. His mind was blank, only focused on the path ahead.
"Yo ." A laid back voice cut through the air. "Where you headed?"
Dante glanced to the side. "Hawks."
"So you know me? Good. Saves us the introductions," Hawks said, keeping pace effortlessly. "You the guy they call the… was it the ghost? Or some even called you the Dark Red Dragon cuz of how similar that costume of yours is to that old hero, the Bright Red Dragon , real spooky."
Dante turned his head and stared straight into Hawk's eyes, "Careful how you say that name."
"Thought so," Hawks continued. "Look, I'll keep it simple. You can't be out here doing hero work without a license. You'll be classed as a criminal."
"I'm not trying to abide the law."
"Right," Hawks replied. "But you're acting like a villain, you're scaring civilians even if you're only targeting villains."
Dante's jaw tightened. "You think I care about what people say?"
"No, I don't." Hawks replied. "But the law does. I'm not here to argue. I'm here to tell you to stand down."
"Not happening."
Hawks exhaled sharply. "I'll be honest, you seem like you're a kid. And you look like you haven't slept in weeks. You're pale, you look tired, drained and you're flying around looking for trouble. You know how that ends? Not well."
"I'll be fine."
"No, you won't. You're been spotted at three different crime scenes now and you're one step away from being hunted down by real heroes, like me."
"I don't have time for this," Dane said, his feet suddenly exploding with fire, trying to break away.
Hawks somehow caught up and cut him off with a burst of feathers. "Don't run."
"I'm not running."
"Then land."
Dante listened and dropped toward a nearby rooftop, landing with a thud. Hawks descended softly a few feet away.
"You don't wanna do this, kid."
"I don't care."
"You should. If you keep doing this, you won't ever be able to live a life of freedom. You really want that?"
"No," Dante said, voice cold and raspy. "But if stopping scumbags from doing crimes means breaking your rules, I'll break every last rule."
"Even if it kills you?"
"If it kills me, so be it."
Hawks stared at him for a long moment, all humour gone from his expression. "I get it. You must've lost someone right? Maybe even more than one. But this isn't the answer."
"All actions have consequences, I am simply the consequence of a certain group of people's actions."
Hawks stepped forward. "Then do this the right way, you don't have to do this alone."
"I won't be leaving with you tonight."
"Then I'll have to bring you by force."
Dante's eyes narrowed, "Try."
Hawks sighed, stretching his wings slightly. "Last chance."
Dante pulled his scarf up slightly. "You're wasting your time."
Then—he lunged.
Hawks dodged left, quickly, almost too quickly, but Dante was already in front of him, coming in hot with a roundhouse kick. Hawks threw up his arms and blocked, skidding back on the rooftop's tiles. The impact echoed out, followed by a gust of wind from Hawks' wings.
"Damn, you hit hard," Hawks muttered, feathers bristling.
Dante didn't bother responding. He just surged forward again, this time from a low angle, throwing a strange but brutal combination, he threw an elbow to hawks' abdomen, then a palm to his chest with the other hand and finished with a low sweep. Hawks managed to jump over the sweep but Dante was too good, a sludge tendril shot out of Dante's shoulder and smashed into Hawks' ribs.
Dante didn't give him room to breathe.
Every movement was fluid and unpredictable. There wasn't any wasted motion, no hesitation. His eyes were tracking everything. Every blink from Hawks, every twitch of a feather, every shift in weight—Kaijin's eyes. He saw through every feint, he could tell from how relaxed the muscles were. Hawks couldn't fake Dante out.
"Who taught you how to fight like this? Are you from U.A.? No… U.A. Doesn't teach like this." Hawks grunted, wings launching him into the sky.
Dante followed, leaping into the air and meeting him mid-flight. They clashed again, midair. Hawks managed to duck under a hook from Dante and countered with a kick to the gut, but Dante didn't even flinch, in return he drove his knee into Hawks' chest.
The hero coughed and tumbled backward, regaining control of his balance before he slammed into a wall. 'Shit! I don't wanna actually hurt the kid… but I can't go easy on him, he's tough…'
Dante flew in again.
This time, Hawks tried to create space, darting down through narrow alleyways and between buildings, trying to tire Dante out. But Dante stayed close, relentless. Hawks could feel it now. This kid was more like a machine than a human. Every movement was a calculated kill shot.
On their next clash, Hawks tried to grab him, wrestle him down and force a conversation. But Dante's body liquefied, twisted out, locked Hawk's wrists and slammed him to the ground.
BOOM!
The concrete cratered.
Hawks groaned, trying to get back up, but his wings were pinned down, Dane had managed to attach some sludge to his feathers during the interception. The sludge hardened the moment Hawks came into contact with a solid object, holding him down.
"Ha! You're real smart, kid." Hawks admitted, breathing heavily. "Way too smart to be wasting your life down here."
Dante leaned in, his hood lifting just enough for his dead eyes to stare into Hawks'. "You don't get it. This. Is. MY. Life."
Hawks tensed. "I'm not letting you get away."
"You can't stop me."
And with that, Dante shot into the sky, leaving Hawks bound the ground.
"I shouldn't have gone easy." Hawks spat as he tried to pull himself free.