Dante In Devil May Cry 5 Novels & Stories

Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that we are very much a part of the business they did want in the first place so they have to keep up appearances and make themselves known. If anyone of my guys should be feared it would be Dante. He’s the jokester, the fool everyone thinks can’t be serious. Dante’s imagination and fascination with mid-evil torture divides a gore makes him one of those people who would take enjoyment out of watching someone slowly bleed out while watching them suffer until he gets his answers.

The man clenched his teeth. “Should I just kill you right now? But my grandfather and all the members of the Vittorio family should see your defeated face first,” Dante muttered coldly. Nicolo didn’t respond. He tried to get up, but Dante immediately kicked his chest and face. “Dante, do you think you’ve won?” Nicolo asked coldly. “I lost in London, but this time I’ll win.” Dante pulled the trigger of his gun and shot both of Nicolo’s legs brutally. He wouldn’t let the man escape.

She opened her eyes to see Marco slumped against the wall, a neat, dark hole blooming in the center of his forehead. Dante stood at the end of the hallway, silhouetted by the flickering orange glow of the fires spreading below. He looked like he had crawled out of hell. His face was smeared with soot and blood, his shirt torn open, and he held a heavy tactical pistol with a steady, practiced hand. "I told you," Dante panted, his voice a raw friction of exhaustion and adrenaline. "Trust the dark."

She heard footsteps and turned her head to look who it was. "Dante! Oh my gods it is you!" Dante was the Crown Prince of the Northern Demon Citadel. He had bronze skin, like he had just got done tanning. His hair was indian long and black. He had beautiful blueish green eyes. Demons were almost pretty much like vampires. Their eyes hold the power rings. The more rings the more powerful. Their nails were just as sharp as well. Their ears were pointed and usually adorn with earrings. They had wings and an actual tail. Belle always made fun of Dante when he got mad at school because his tail would pop out along with his horns. Being a royal bloodline he could hide majority of his features in th

During the cold, the girl let out a loud cry, and I held her tightly against my chest. “Take them,” I barked. “Now.” We vanished into the night. Old blood and new ambition emanated from the underground temple. Hundreds of the Death Pack, which were full of cursed wolves with unnaturally bright eyes and covered in darkness, had Dante waiting at the altar. He resembled a shadowy king, sweating on his hair and having veins that were black from the dark beer he had consumed at this time. He expressed his gleeful approval, saying "You did it." “Don't act surprised.”

His racing heartbeat told me that he was more than just a little furious right now. “And you are?” Aiden asked, clearly challenging Dante. The man was dumb enough to be speaking to him in such a tone let alone challenging him. Dante was literally three times the man’s size, and needless to say, he didn’t even know that he was a wolf, and even in human form, Dante could easily crush the man’s head in seconds. “The fuck date that knocked her up” Dante said, catching Aiden of guard. Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, and putting a hand on her stomach, she looked between the two of us “Dante D’Angelo”

Dante’s face hardened, his eyes locked on the priest’s hand wrapped around my wrist. The priest’s grip loosened slightly. “The blood bond must be…” “Let. Her. Go.” The words came out as a terrifying warning. The priest released me immediately, stepping back. He muttered something under his breath in Italian, a curse, maybe a prayer. I could not tell which. Dante snatched the knife from the priest’s hand without remorse. Then he turned to me. His dark eyes held mine, searching, intense. “Trust me,” his voice dropped to that low drawl that made my stomach flip.

“A little shaken, maybe, but he’ll live—probably.” “What the hell did you do?” I spun toward him, fury blazing in my chest. Dante shrugged, his lips curling into a cruel smirk. “The same thing you were planning to do, just better. You can’t beat a master at his own game, cara. I made Matteo, and what does he do? Turns around, steals my woman, and tries to kill me. Ungrateful, wouldn’t you say?”

“Dante tried to ruin our last firearm shipment. Our men managed to kill half of the people he sent, but they still left off with plenty and now our client is pissed.” Sergio told him as he grabbed the billiard stick roughly and stomped it on the ground. The smile slightly faded from Angelo’s face. “Now that’s troublesome.” He responded. “That’s why I cannot have you slack off like this! That bastard Dante has strengthened his organization these past five years. He’s no longer that weakling he was from five years ago and it’s pissing me off!” Sergio’s face was as hard as stone. “Now, now, we need to keep a cool head, Sergio.” Angelo poured another glass of whiskey and walked toward Sergio bef

He took another step forward, his heavy, iron boots cracking the marble with every stride. "The scrapper doesn't leave the site until the iron is cleared, old woman," Dante rumbled, his grey eye burning with a dark, smoky fire that outshone her stolen violet light. "And this whole room is scrap." Dante didn't use a blade. He wrapped his massive, iron-crusted arms around the base of the five-story server column, his muscles bulging until the scars on his back split open, pouring red-gold "Grit-Fire" directly into the machine's cooling intake.