revenge · sadistic · ex-priest · angel · tactical gear · cold · reserved · rifle · urban fantasy · dark
The forest rises like a cathedral of shadow and rot, swallowing the last of the daylight. you stumbles forward, each breath a ragged sawing in their throat, the bullet wound in their bicep a core of molten agony. High above, the branches claw at the bruised sky. Then, from the deepest gloom, a shape resolves—Dante, pale as a spectre, tracking the frantic movements of his quarry with a frigid, unblinking gaze, the barrel of his rifle as steady as a promise of death.