Dante Devil Trigger Dmc5 Novels & Stories

The shot rang out so fast, even Amara didn't realize she'd pulled the trigger. Blood bloomed across Dante's chest like a black flower. He stumbled back — once, twice — before dropping to his knees, laughing. “You finally chose,” he rasped. She walked up to him, stood over his crumbling form, and fired again. Right between the eyes. Luca didn’t stop her. Neither did Silva, who appeared later from the far hall, gun raised, face grin. It was done. The Devil was dead. But the world was still burning. Back at the Naples safehouse, Amara didn’t speak for a long time.

Dante dropped the pliers, his fingers now stained with blood. But his rage wasn’t satisfied. He needed more. Reaching behind him, he pulled out his gun. The traitor’s swollen, bloodshot eyes widened in terror as Dante cocked it, the sound echoing through the dungeon. “D-Dante… please…” The man gasped, his voice hoarse from screaming. But Dante was done. With a calm expression, he aimed the gun— And pulled the trigger. The bullet went through his head, and blood and pieces of his brain splattered on the cold dungeon walls.

He adjusted his suit jacket, though his eyes were still burning with the fire of L'Oscuro. He looked down at Mateo, who was still on his knees. "You thought you were inviting a tech CEO to a birthday party." Dante whispered, his voice dangerously calm. "You forgot who I was before I built the company, Santiago." Mateo spat. “You son of…” "You invited the Devil into your house." Dante hissed. "And now you are upset that he brought hell with him." Then he casually shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the room, his grey eyes sweeping over the terrified elite of New York.

Dante complimented. Beep. Victor ended the call. With a wide grin, Dante picked up his tumbler and gulped down the rest of the contents. His face contorted as the burning sensation descended down his throat he let out a heavy sigh. Deca Familia… che abbia inizio il gioco dei re. (Deca Familia… let the game of kings begin.)

Bella came suddenly and violently, her walls clamping down around him as she screamed his name. Dante didn’t stop. He railed her through her orgasm, chasing his own release. “Gonna fill this forbidden pussy,” he rasped, hips snapping faster. “Gonna pump you so full of my cum you’ll be dripping for days while we’re trapped down here. Maybe I’ll knock you up… make you carry the Devil’s baby.” The filthy words sent another shock of pleasure through her. Bella came again, sobbing from the intensity. Dante buried himself deep with a guttural groan and exploded, flooding her womb with thick, hot ropes of cum. He kept grinding, pushing every drop as deep as possible.

I roared back. My hands were fused to the beam, the violet fire searing my palms. But the pain was fuel. I looked at Dante. He was standing now, but he wasn't just a man anymore. The "Solid Violet" light was pouring out of his eyes and mouth, his skin shimmering like a dark sun. He was the "Trigger"—the biological detonator my mother had hidden in the slums of Lagos. "Dante! The memory!" I yelled. "The 'Original Sinner'! Use it to anchor the pull!"

Rather than his normal cocky smirk he seemed irritated. “My son has returned, he will be joining us for dinner tonight.” he announced flatly. I had to wonder why he seemed to be angry that Damien was joining us. I had assumed Damien was working with his father, a loyal soldier. Could I have been wrong this whole time? Lucifer had once told me that Damien had taken things with me farther than he was supposed to, at the time I assumed he was only telling me that because he wanted me to trust Damien, but the look on his face made me question those thoughts. I felt a strange tugging sensation in my mind begging me to look up. As I shifted my gaze upward I locked eyes with Damien. His icy blue ey

"He told me once. In the beginning. If the primary personality ever fully returned, there was a failsafe. A secondary trigger." "A trigger for what?" Dante didn't answer. He looked at the necklace, then at her. His eyes, which had been warm and clear for weeks, suddenly flickered. A flash of that old, vacant stare—the flat look of the Butcher—washed over his face before he blinked it away. "Dante?" He slammed his fist into the kitchen island, the wood splintering under the force. "He’s not dead. Or he’s got a ghost running his errands. Either way, this isn't a gift, Bianca. It's an activation."

The Kirin hit the muddy ground with it’s front right hoof twice then a stance; a stretched neck downward as it’s long antlers fixedly pointed to its target with it’s dragon-like face slightly contorted. Unexpectedly to Dante knowing he’s the fastest man alive, which he believed it was totally true; Pamēla was already above him, glowing with a sudden burst of energy. He slowly gasped within that space of time. “She… could see where I’m positioned?!” Staring at the mystical creature above, the rider looked down at him including the one standing behind now raising her gothic war hammer with an evil smile underneath her helmet spoke; “We got you now.” Next, a blooming sound of destructive yellow

A black SUV pulls up, dust billowing around it as it comes to a stop. The door opens, and sure enough, but it’s Dante, his expression grim as he steps out. He’s followed by Axton for some reason. Of course, I fucking forgot Dante is based here. Fuck, that demon did a number on me. “Ah, I think I might like the calvary,” I greet him, my voice a low growl. “Took you long enough, asshole.”