Dante surged through the ball of flames, the heat so intense that even his shield caught fire.
The metal glowed white-hot, warping and crumbling until it turned into nothingness, disintegrating in his grip. Even his sword began melting in his hands, the blade dripping molten steel until it was no more.
But even in all this, he still moved forward.
His skin peeled away, layer after layer burning off. His muscles were exposed, charring black. But he didn't feel a thing. He just moved forward, his fist clenched, reaching through the inferno.
Yuki watched from the other side, her eyes wide. What was he thinking, jumping directly into the flames? Suddenly, she noticed something moving in the fire. Was he really so persistent?
He appeared from the flames and came toward her, his fist extended forward, his body a burnt husk.
"Something's wrong," she thought.
