As soon as Dante officially stepped into the building, his entire field of vision was drowned in crimson.
"Damn it. I don't know who designed this place, but their aesthetic is completely shot. Everything's crimson or deep red—does this bastard not know any other colors?!"
Grumbling, Dante summoned a greatsword forged from his Will Green Light—ridiculously oversized and entirely impractical-looking, like a prop from a fantasy RPG.
With a crisp "chi," the sword plunged into the wall.
Then, he dragged it in a circle and carved out a chunk of the wall.
He lifted the red slab. The moment it touched the Will Green Light, part of the red energy inside started boiling.
"Ion Shark, I thought the opposite of Rage Red Light was Hope Blue. So why is it reacting this violently with the Will Green Light, the most neutral one?"
"That's just a theoretical opposition based on Emotional Spectrum attributes. In reality, Rage Red reacts antagonistically with any other emotional light. The more extreme the emotion, the more volatile the interaction."
Dante nodded.
You could see it just from how unhinged the Lantern Corps got in canon.
Red Lanterns? Full-on maniacs.
The Violet Lanterns? Lovesick psychos.
Rage and love—those were the emotions that always drove people off the deep end.
"Emotional Spectrum or a philosophy 101 class…" Dante muttered.
He tossed the slab aside and pressed deeper into the building.
It was tall, sure—but only had four floors.
Each floor had ridiculously high ceilings.
But weirdly enough, the first three floors had no guards, no defenses—just empty crimson halls, silent and eerie.
Tap. Tap. Tap…
Aside from the occasional thundering crash of exchanging punches outside, only Dante's footsteps echoed through the space.
Every floor he reached, he swept thoroughly.
And every time, it was the same result: nothing but ambient red energy and oppressive silence.
Now he was on the third floor. Still nothing.
Annoyed, Dante slumped into an office chair and stared at the stairway ahead of him.
The door to the fourth floor.
It was blocked by a dense, suffocating layer of crimson energy.
That kind of defense could only mean one thing:
Whoever—or whatever—was behind that barrier was the real mastermind.
Dante exhaled and tapped his communicator, trying to reach Skye and Ingrid.
Nothing.
Not even static—just the flat hiss of dead air.
And this was the Bureau's top-tier communicator. The kind that could deliver real-time clarity from Earth to a space station.
Moments ago, he could still hear the Asgard siblings brawling with the crimson juggernaut.
Now?
It was like that fight never existed.
Which meant…
Reality here had been distorted.
Technically, this area was no longer part of the original universe.
But it wasn't like the crimson titan outside—it wasn't sentient. This was more like a sealed-off wall.
Dante cracked his neck, then stood up from the chair, activating his full Green Lantern output.
In raw force, the Primal Green Lantern was equivalent to an All Father-tier being.
Sure, it lacked those reality-warping hax skills, but in terms of power?
Top shelf.
Still, even at max output, the crimson barrier barely budged.
Five minutes. Ten. Twenty...
Half an hour later, Dante finally bored a man-sized hole through the wall of rage.
"This thing's seriously built Ford Tough. Makes sense—the Crimson Cosmos isn't exactly famous for its softness. No wonder Juggernaut's whole gimmick is being immortal and indestructible."
He muttered as he slowly squeezed through.
At last, he reached the hidden fourth floor.
The stairs themselves looked the same—still red, still creepy.
But once he stepped fully into the space beyond the stairs…
Everything changed.
It was an enormous office.
Bright. Warm.
And the walls?
Not crimson.
Just... normal beige wallpaper.
Dante blinked.
At the back of the room sat a white guy with a face that screamed problematic. Fierce eyes. A presence like a villain in a Baki side story. But instead of wearing a warden's uniform?
He had on a white lab coat.
Muscles bulging out of it like he'd just walked off a bodybuilding competition stage.
This guy looked like he should be punching holes in tanks, not writing research papers.
It was only then that Dante fully grasped the phrase "dressed like a scholar but shaped like a war crime."
But then the man looked up—and Dante saw his eyes.
And all his assumptions shattered.
There it was.
In those eyes.
Wisdom. Madness. Self-destruction. All flickering like a broken neon sign.
Dante quietly nodded to himself.
That's the look. Full-blown mad scientist energy.
Just... in the wrong body.
"You're quite the anomaly," the man said, his voice smooth but unnerving. "Managing to beat my subordinates and break through the barrier I created to stand before me…"
"I hope you can entertain me."
Dante's eye twitched.
Then walked up, raised a hand—
And slapped him across the face.
Hard.
The man flew off his chair and hit the floor.
"OW! Why so rude?!"
"Cut the crap. I'm not here to play villain-of-the-week with you. And what's with the over-the-top boss lines? How old are you, dude?"
Cough cough. "A man is a youth until death," the lab coat musclehead said, rubbing his jaw, totally unfazed.
Instead of retaliating, he just sat back up calmly.
Dante finally noticed what was sitting on the desk behind him.
There were several objects emitting a faint red glow.
He'd been too focused on the guy to notice them earlier.
Dante stepped over him and walked to the desk.
Four red gems rested neatly on a tray...
And on top of those gems was a palm-sized blood-red ox, curled up and snoozing peacefully.
The gems? Very clearly Cyttorak's Crimson Gemstones.
Of the legendary eight gems supposedly scattered across the multiverse, four were now right here.
As for the thing using them as a mattress...
"Ion Shark, correct me if I'm wrong—but that's a Lantern Beast, yeah?"
"Correct. That is the Butcher, born from within the Rage Red Light."
Ion Shark's voice rang out again.
"I didn't expect it to emerge from the Red Light before the Primal Red Lantern Furnace had even formed."
"So these four Crimson Gems are acting like a surrogate host? Like a proto-furnace?"
Dante's eyes gleamed.
That meant he could potentially use these four Crimson Gemstones as the foundation for the real deal—the Primal Red Lantern Furnace.
A true construct to hold, shape, and wield the Butcher and the surging Rage Red Light.
Way more stable than just winging it like now.
But as the thought settled in, Dante turned his gaze back to the guy still sitting on the floor, suspiciously calm.
"All right. Who the hell are you? And how did you come into contact with Cyttorak's Crimson Gemstones without turning into a rage puppet like Juggernaut? Instead, you collected the gems and ended up attracting the Rage Light and the Butcher."
"Me? I'm just a poor soul who can't die."
The guy stood up and walked toward him, casual as if they were chatting at a coffee shop.
Dante studied him again.
There was a ruby pendant on his neck—clearly out of place with his jacked-up gym rat outfit.
"I'm not asking if you're sad or immortal. I'm asking how you resisted the influence of those red gems."
Dante summoned his will-greatsword again, the blade resting right on the guy's shoulder.
But the man didn't even flinch.
Instead, he walked to the other side of the desk and sat down.
"You mean that voice that once promised me eternal life? Said I'd become something called a 'Juggernaut'?"
"You heard Cyttorak's voice and didn't fall?"
"That was supposed to do something?" He scratched his head, puzzled. "Sounded like a scam pitch. Wasn't even convincing. I've heard more persuasive robocalls."
"It's not the words! His power wouldn't let you off just for saying no!"
"Oh, that," the man chuckled, pointing casually toward the exit. "That thing outside? That's the previous me."
"…Excuse me?"
Dante froze.
What did he just say?
"That thing is... you?"
"I have to admit, the entertainment value in your universe is way beyond what I imagined."
"Oh, right—I haven't introduced myself, have I?" He smiled like someone who hadn't spoken to another sane person in centuries.
"My name is Jack Bright."
(To be continued.)