My Blood Legacy: Reincarnated as a Vampire

Dante walked with firm, yet slow steps, observing the scene before him. The Second Circle of Hell stretched out like a stormy wasteland, where fierce winds dominated everything. The tempest roared, blowing with a force that ripped screams from the condemned souls. They were tossed about, unable to find rest or direction. Translucent figures flew like leaves in the wind, crashing against rocks and each other, trapped in an endless cycle of pain and despair.

The winds seemed almost alive, like invisible serpents that twisted and contorted the souls with cruel precision. Despite the violence around him, Dante advanced calmly, as if the storm dared not touch him. His presence seemed to part the gusts, though he could still feel the constant pressure of the crushing force surrounding him.

He paused for a moment, watching a particular soul spiraling through the air before being violently slammed against a rock. It was a woman, beautiful even in her disfigured form, with despair etched into her face. She lifted her eyes to him, as if she recognized him, but before she could speak, the winds took her again, sweeping her into the storm.

Dante crossed his arms, his gaze dark and critical as it wandered over the scene. "Lust... A circle for slaves to their own passions. In life, you let the winds of desire carry you, and now, ironically, you are bound to these same winds in death." He shook his head with a touch of disdain. "A fitting punishment, I admit."

The sound of whispering voices cut through the storm for a moment. It wasn't the wind, but words filled with desire, regret, and confession. It was as if the souls themselves were trying to justify their actions, even though no one was listening. Dante ignored the laments, continuing to walk over the unstable terrain.

"Good thing I'm unaffected by killing Asmodeus... That would be troublesome," Dante admitted to himself.

Suddenly, a stronger whirlwind formed ahead. It spun violently, creating a vacuum of silence at its center. Dante stopped, narrowing his eyes, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. A figure emerged from the vortex, floating as if part of the storm itself.

It was a woman dressed in a translucent robe that seemed made of shadows and breeze. Her eyes glowed like dimmed stars, and she bore an expression of melancholy, almost accusatory.

"Do you dare walk in this circle without being swept by the winds, Dante?" she asked, her voice echoing with the sound of the tempest. "You, who carry chaos in your heart, think yourself above this torment?"

'Another lunatic...' Dante raised an eyebrow, looking at the figure with disdain. "And who are you to question me? Another soul trapped by your own weakness, I suppose."

The woman floated closer, the winds around her forming a protective aura. "I am Semiramis, a queen in life, condemned in death. Like all here, I was dragged by my own desires, but in you, I see something beyond lust. I see a void, an abyss that consumes everything in its path."

'Is Minos still alive? How does another crazy soul know my name?'

Dante smiled coldly. "A void? Perhaps. But a void that shapes and destroys. I am not like you. I command chaos, I am not commanded by it."

Semiramis studied him for a moment before her expression softened slightly. "So you believe yourself different. But everyone here once believed they were immune to the consequences of their desires. Until it was too late."

'This poetic nonsense again... I'm getting tired of dealing with strangely eloquent spirits.' Dante grumbled to himself.

As she spoke, the winds around Dante seemed to gain strength, as if trying to reach him. The whispers grew louder, voices insinuating desires and tempting promises.

"Dante," a familiar voice whispered at his side, sweet as honey. He turned his head sharply but saw no one. "You're not immune either, you know. Your desire for power, for control... it's no different from ours."

Another voice rose, this one deep and provoking. "What if Fey were taken? What if your Kingdom fell? Don't you want more strength to stop that? Don't you crave more power to overcome everything?" Experience exclusive tales on empire

Dante gritted his teeth, irritated but unyielding as he continued walking. "You really think those words will stop me? I've heard far more elaborate temptations before. You'll have to do better than this."

Semiramis smiled faintly, though there was sadness in her expression. "You speak with such conviction. But beware, Dante. Limbo tested your resolve. Here, Lust will test your endurance. The deeper you go, the heavier the burden you carry will become."

Without responding, Dante pressed on, leaving Semiramis behind. The winds howled louder, almost as if furious they couldn't drag him down with the other souls. He ignored the weight of the words and the voices around him, his focus locked on moving forward.

"If Hell thinks it can stop me with cheap tricks..." he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with determination, "then it has no idea who it's dealing with."

As he walked, the constant barrage of voices and promises carried on the winds began to intensify. His expression grew darker. The whispers weren't stopping—they were becoming sharper, digging into his mind and pulling at old, buried memories and forgotten desires.

"You're not as strong as you think, Dante..."

"She never fully trusted you..."

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"Your wives will die."

"You abandoned them..."

"They'll be alone."

"You're a coward."

The muscles in Dante's jaw clenched as he came to an abrupt stop. The winds howled around him, as if celebrating his hesitation, but the moment was fleeting.

Something inside Dante snapped.

He lifted his head, and the scarlet glow in his eyes burned brighter, a demonic flame dancing in their depths. His body radiated a dark, seductive aura—an overwhelming presence that felt like Lust itself but in its most destructive and commanding form.

"Enough..." he murmured, his voice like a low thunder. "If Hell thinks it can play games with me, it's dead wrong."

Dante raised his right hand, and a pulsing power began emanating from it. It was unlike the usual miasma he wielded; this was something rawer, more visceral. His connection to the Sin of Lust wasn't like the souls around him—he had mastered it entirely, bending it to his will.

The winds around him started to bend in submission, forming spiraling vortexes that grew increasingly intense. Dante's gaze turned to the horizon of the circle, where thousands, perhaps millions of souls remained trapped, endlessly dragged by the storm. He clenched his fists, his aura swelling until it seemed to engulf the entire Second Circle.

"You want lust?" he roared, his voice reverberating across Hell. "Then I'll show you what it truly means!"

With a single, decisive gesture, he unleashed the power he had been gathering. The Sin of Lust manifested as an overwhelming surge of destructive energy. It was as if a wave of pure darkness and unrelenting desire swept through the entire circle. The winds stopped instantly, replaced by a terrifying silence just before the explosion.

The wave struck every soul in the circle. Instead of being carried by the winds, the souls began to be drawn toward Dante, as if he were a black hole devouring everything. Their screams echoed as their very essences were absorbed, their sins transformed into fuel for Dante's growing power.

The once-raging tempest was gone, replaced by a vast, eerie stillness. The Second Circle was silent, its condemned stripped of their torment and made into part of Dante's unrelenting will.

The figures that had once floated helplessly now vanished one by one, sucked into the vortex swirling around Dante. Even the stones and winds began to disintegrate, as if the very fabric of the circle was being consumed.

At the center of it all, Dante stood motionless, his body radiating the energy he had absorbed. The ground beneath his feet cracked, fissures spreading across the desolate terrain and glowing with a crimson light that seeped from deep within the earth.

"All of you," he said in a low, almost calm tone, as the entire circle crumbled around him, "are nothing more than fuel for my purpose."

When it was over, the Second Circle was no longer a storm of relentless winds. What remained was a barren, devastated plain, silent and lifeless. The air was still, the only sound the distant echoes of crumbling stone. Dante looked down at his hands, feeling the newly absorbed power coursing through his veins.

"Sin... It's not something to be feared. It's a weapon. And I'll wield it."

Without a glance behind him, he began walking toward the next descent. The entrance to the Third Circle — the realm of the Gluttonous — loomed ahead, waiting for him.

"Finally... When I take over this place, I'll have to rebuild the whole damn thing. But whatever. I just need to keep moving and kill everything. After all, everything here is already dead," he muttered with a smirk, stepping forward.

Far away, in other circles of Hell, the ripples of what Dante had done spread quickly. Guardians and entities watching over the Inferno felt the disturbance.

"He destroyed the Second Circle?" a deep voice asked, disbelief heavy in its tone.

"Not just destroyed. He consumed it."

The entire Inferno was on high alert now. Dante was no longer just an intruder; he was a force threatening to dismantle the established order.

And he was only getting started.