NOVEL NEXT Chapter 17: Fractured Boundaries
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Red Grave City had reached a new level of chaos. What began as a brutal demonic invasion had now escalated into something that defied the very nature of existence. The relentless assault by the Doom Slayer, Dante, Vergil, and Nero had forced waves of Hellspawn into retreat—but the battle was far from over. The very fabric of reality itself trembled under the strain of unstable dimensional energies. The city's ruined streets, already scarred by blood and brimstone, began to twist and warp as if reality was rejecting its own existence.
The battle raged on. In the midst of carnage, the four warriors hacked through swarms of demons with a savage determination. Dante's Rebellion cut deep into Hellspawn, and Nero's Red Queen sang a deadly tune over the cacophony of destruction. Vergil's every precise strike was a testament to his cold, analytical efficiency, while the Doom Slayer moved like a force of nature—silent, lethal, and utterly relentless. Together, they carved a path through the demonic horde, yet suddenly, the world around them began to fracture.
The air shuddered violently. The very ground beneath their feet trembled as cracks began to appear in the pavement—cracks that were not simply the scars of battle, but fissures in reality itself. Jagged rifts in space, pulsing with an eerie, unnatural glow, split open the sky and the cityscape. Through these gashes, glimpses of alien landscapes, floating structures, and monstrous forms—creatures that belonged to no known realm—could be seen. The collision of dimensions was no longer a distant theory; it was happening here, in the midst of the bloodshed.
Dante, mid-swing with Rebellion impaling a snarling demon, suddenly flipped back. His eyes widened as he took in the surreal scene unfolding around him. The ground rippled like liquid, and buildings contorted into impossible shapes. He couldn't help but quip, half in disbelief and half in humor, "Uh… anyone else seeing this, or did I drink too much last night?" His words, though light, were laced with genuine astonishment.
High above the chaos, on a rooftop barely holding onto the remnants of its former glory, Vergil surveyed the surreal transformation. His gaze was fixed on a skyscraper that, in a matter of seconds, twisted into an impossible spiral. The building's windows, instead of reflecting the familiar city below, showed an alien cosmos—a swirling void of starless darkness punctuated by bursts of unearthly light. "This is no mere demonic incursion… Something greater is at play," Vergil murmured calmly, his tone betraying the gravity of the situation as he calculated the new threat.
Meanwhile, Nero was in the thick of combat. He swung his Red Queen with ferocious might into the skull of a Cyberdemon, sending it crashing into the pavement. Before he could even catch his breath, his eyes caught sight of a street folding into itself—warping like paper being crumpled by an invisible hand. "What the hell is happening?! This ain't normal—not even for a demon invasion!" he shouted, his voice edged with panic and raw adrenaline.
Amid all the chaos, the Doom Slayer remained largely unphased on the surface. Yet deep inside, beneath his unyielding exterior, he sensed a different kind of energy—something that did not belong to Hell's corruption alone. He recognized it as something ancient, something almost familiar yet utterly alien. The Hell Rift that had unleashed the demonic tide was just the beginning. There was another force breaking through the barriers of dimensions—a force that threatened to upend everything.
Then, as if the very fabric of the universe were peeling away, a new entity emerged from one of the swirling, jagged rifts. It was neither demon nor angel, but something far more enigmatic—a being wrapped in pure, shifting void energy. Its form was in constant flux, an ever-changing mass of darkness interspersed with pulsating streaks of iridescent light. It seemed as though reality itself struggled to define this creature, which hovered at the threshold between existence and nonexistence.
A voice, layered and dissonant—a whisper that echoed as if coming from every corner of the shattered realm—emerged from the entity. "You… are not meant to be here," it intoned, its tone both accusatory and sorrowful, reverberating across the fractured landscape.
The Doom Slayer's grip tightened on his weapon. There was no need for words. In his mind, one truth remained clear: if it bled, it dies. He advanced without hesitation, his eyes hidden behind his dark visor but burning with a singular, ruthless determination.
Vergil's gaze, ever perceptive, narrowed as he tried to comprehend the nature of this newcomer. "Tch. This just got interesting…" he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper as he recognized that the shifting energy was something even he, with all his analytical prowess, could not fully fathom.
As the boundaries of reality continued to crack and warp around them, the merging of dimensions accelerated. The once-solid street beneath their feet seemed to ripple like water, and chunks of the city floated briefly in the air before collapsing back into disarray. Within these swirling voids, fragments of a world beyond—scenes of twisted landscapes, distorted ruins, and impossible architectures—appeared and vanished like ghostly visions.
Dante's voice cut through the tension once more, his tone a mix of disbelief and bravado. "Looks like our party just got a whole lot stranger, huh?" He swung his weapon with practiced ease, keeping one eye on the shifting surroundings as he joked about the surrealism of it all, trying to mask his underlying concern.
Nero, ever the firebrand, roared in defiance as he slammed into another horde of demons. Yet even as he fought, his eyes kept darting back to the rifts and the alien visions they revealed. "This… this isn't just a demon invasion anymore," he shouted. "It's like reality's falling apart!"
Amid the chaos, the Doom Slayer pressed forward. His movements were as precise as ever, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor—a deep, instinctual recognition of a power that had been dormant, waiting to be unleashed. The energy around him was no longer solely the corrupt essence of Hell; it was something older, something that had seeped through the boundaries of dimensions long before the age of demons. He could feel it—a stirring in the fabric of existence, a whisper of an ancient force that was now forcing its way through.
From the depths of one particularly large rift, the alien entity continued to hover, its form flickering in and out of focus as if struggling against an invisible current. Its words, repeated like a broken mantra, resonated in the mind of every warrior present. "You… are not meant to be here." The tone was not hostile, but it carried an unfathomable weight—a warning from a realm beyond comprehension.
The silence of the Doom Slayer was unbroken by such words; he did not speak, did not hesitate. His purpose was clear: eliminate any threat that dared to challenge him, regardless of its origin. And if that meant tearing through the very fabric of reality, so be it. Every enemy—whether demonic or something entirely unknown—was subject to his unyielding judgment.
Vergil, watching the unfolding spectacle from his rooftop vantage, could no longer hide his fascination. "This is no mere demonic incursion," he repeated slowly, his voice laced with both admiration and trepidation. "Something else is forcing its way through our world—something that transcends even Hell's corruption." His words hung in the air, heavy with the promise of greater challenges to come.
As the battle continued, the shifting landscape around them became a living nightmare. The city itself was fracturing under the pressure of colliding dimensions. Walls melted into liquid shadows; the sky, once a canvas of blood-red and violet, now revealed eerie voids of nothingness where stars and cosmic energies pulsed unpredictably. Creatures that had no right to exist—beings of pure, chaotic energy—drifted in and out of existence at the fringes of perception, adding to the mounting disarray.
The combined forces of Dante, Nero, and Vergil fought with all the ferocity they could muster, determined to hold back the tide of destruction. But as each moment passed, it became painfully clear that the true enemy was not just the demonic horde that had invaded their world. It was the very breakdown of reality itself—a collision of dimensions that threatened to erase the boundaries between Hell, the human realm, and whatever lay beyond.
The Doom Slayer, his face set in a mask of grim determination, continued his advance. Every step he took was a challenge thrown at the crumbling cosmos. His silent fury spoke louder than any words could—if the void had a voice, it would whisper his name in terror. He moved with the inevitability of a natural disaster, unyielding and unstoppable.
In that surreal maelstrom, the alliance of demon hunters was forced to confront a chilling truth: they were no longer just fighting demons. They were battling the very essence of fractured reality—a force that had been unleashed by the unstable rift. And as the barriers between dimensions shattered before their eyes, the line between enemy and ally blurred into a single, overwhelming void.
Dante, Nero, and Vergil exchanged wary glances as the surreal chaos intensified around them. "This isn't just another day in Red Grave City," Dante remarked dryly, his tone a mix of irony and dread. "We're fighting the collapse of reality itself." His eyes, usually filled with irreverent humor, now shone with a stark, sober light.
Nero's response was a guttural snarl of defiance. "Then let's tear it apart before it swallows us whole!" he shouted, his voice echoing over the roar of the unstable energies. The urgency in his tone was matched only by the raw power of his strikes as he cut down any foe that dared approach.
Vergil, ever the analytical one, regarded the shifting boundaries with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "The Rift was never solely the work of Hell," he murmured, almost to himself. "It appears something else is forcing its way through—an ancient power, perhaps, or a harbinger of a destiny none of us can yet fathom."
In that moment, as the world around them splintered into surreal fragments of alien landscapes and demonic ruins, the Doom Slayer's silent resolve remained unbroken. He was the axis upon which the chaos turned—a lone force of destruction that faced down the very disintegration of existence. His eyes, hidden behind his dark visor, burned with a singular focus: to vanquish any threat, to reclaim the fractured boundaries of their world, and to do so without hesitation or remorse.
The clash of dimensions had begun in earnest. The unstable rifts, now a permanent fixture in the sky above, pulsed with chaotic energy that both terrified and mesmerized those who witnessed it. Every jagged tear in reality revealed horrors beyond imagination—a glimpse into worlds where time and space had no meaning. And amid this cosmic upheaval, the Doom Slayer pressed on, undeterred by the forces that sought to engulf him.
With every demonic foe that fell before him, every flicker of unstable light that danced across the shattered streets, the truth became undeniable: the merging of dimensions was not just a side effect of Hell's corruption—it was something else entirely. It was an invasion of existence, a force that threatened to rewrite the rules of reality. And standing at the forefront of this cataclysm, the Doom Slayer was both the harbinger and the final arbiter of fate.
As the battle waged on, Dante's banter returned—sharp and defiant—providing a brief, defiant smile in the face of the encroaching void. "Guess we're in for one hell of a ride, huh?" he joked, even as his eyes betrayed his uncertainty. Nero's fierce determination and Vergil's calculating gaze told a story of men who, despite their bravado, understood that the stakes had never been higher.
In the midst of the fractured boundaries and crumbling reality, the warriors prepared to face whatever horrors the merging realms would unleash next. The unstable rifts above pulsed ominously—a constant reminder that the collision of dimensions was far from over. And as the Doom Slayer advanced, his silent fury an unspoken promise of retribution, it was clear that the future of Red Grave City—and perhaps all of existence—hung in a delicate balance.
Thus, in that surreal moment when the fabric of reality itself was laid bare, the four warriors stood united against an enemy that defied comprehension. The Doom Slayer, the silent force of nature, led the charge into a battle not just for survival, but for the very integrity of their world. And as the air trembled and the boundaries between dimensions crumbled, the war for reality had truly begun.
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If you like the story ! please support it
And the best way to do this is through patréon
You get access to +5 chapters ! form vergil !!
Or even 12+ chapters if you want ! from Dante!!
So please check out my patréon
https://www.patréon.com/c/zakx205
Don't forget to change "é" to "e"