Scarface's hand disappeared inside his jacket.
Dante's Six Eyes tracked the movement with crystalline clarity. The subtle shift of fabric. The way the man's shoulder dropped half an inch. The tensing of muscles in his forearm as fingers wrapped around something metal.
The world slowed to a crawl.
Oh, here we go.
A knife appeared in Scarface's hand. Chrome-plated tanto blade, maybe six inches. The other guards followed suit. Batons extended with metallic clicks. Knuckledusters caught the amber light. One guy actually pulled out what looked like a kusari-fundo, the weighted chain spinning in lazy circles.
Ten men. Ten weapons. All of them professionals who'd probably spent years cracking skulls in the Yakuza machine.
Dante felt something shift inside his chest. A door opening. A current of energy that hadn't been there before, or maybe had always been there, just waiting for him to need it.
Cursed Energy. That's what Gojo called it. The stuff that powers everything.
It responded to his thoughts like a loyal dog. He could feel it circulating through his body. Reinforcing muscle fiber. Hardening bone structure. Turning his baseline human frame into something that could take punishment and dish it back tenfold.
The guards fanned out. Textbook formation. Three from the front, two from each flank, three hanging back to cut off escape routes.
Scarface moved first.
His good arm whipped forward, the knife aimed at Dante's throat in a practiced thrust. Fast. Clean. The kind of strike that had probably ended more than one life in some back alley.
Dante's body moved before his conscious mind caught up.
He swayed left. The blade passed three inches from his jugular. The Six Eyes had already calculated the trajectory, the speed, the exact microsecond when Scarface's weight would commit to the lunge.
A baton came from his right. Aimed at his ribs.
Dante's forearm came up. The impact should have shattered bone. Instead, the Cursed Energy humming beneath his skin turned his flesh into something closer to reinforced steel. The baton hit with a hollow thunk and the guard's eyes went wide with shock.
Dante's elbow snapped back. Caught the man in the throat.
Holy shit, this is working.
Two more rushed him from the left. One high, one low. The classic pincer.
The Six Eyes painted their movements in perfect clarity. He could see the micro-adjustments in their footwork. The way the high attacker's pupils dilated right before the swing. The low one's breath catching as he committed to the tackle.
Dante dropped into a crouch. The high swing whistled over his head. His hand shot out, palm-strike to the tackle guy's solar plexus. Cursed Energy flooded the impact point.
The guard flew backward like he'd been hit by a car. Crashed into the wall hard enough to crack the expensive paneling. He slid down, wheezing.
Gojo wasn't kidding about the reinforcement thing. I barely tried and that guy just ate shit.
The remaining guards hesitated. Their professional confidence cracking around the edges.
Raven watched from her desk. One elegant hand propped under her chin. Her expression was the same mild curiosity someone might show watching a new flavor of ice cream melt.
Scarface barked orders in rapid Japanese. The survivors regrouped. Changed tactics. They came at him in a coordinated wave, weapons aimed at vital points, trying to overwhelm him through sheer numbers and synchronized violence.
It might have worked on a normal person.
Dante's body flowed through their attacks like water. Every strike that came close met reinforced limbs or open air. The Six Eyes processed the battlefield faster than conscious thought. It was like watching a movie in slow motion while everyone else moved at normal speed.
A knife grazed his shoulder. Tore fabric but barely scratched skin.
A baton caught him across the back. He felt the impact but the pain was distant, filtered through the energy cushioning his body.
This is insane. I feel like a goddamn superhero.
But even with supernatural perception and reinforced flesh, he was still just dodging. Blocking. Dancing around the problem instead of solving it.
The thought irritated him.
Twenty-one men. I killed twenty-one men with my bare hands and a stolen pipe. These assholes think they can take me because I'm being nice?
Sukuna's memory rose from his mind. Not words, exactly. More like muscle memory that wasn't his own. The knowledge of how to kill, perfected over a thousand years. The understanding that sometimes the most effective solution was the most direct one.
Violence. Pure and simple. No hesitation. No mercy.
He stopped dodging.
Scarface lunged again, the knife aimed at his gut. Dante caught the man's wrist mid-thrust. Twisted. Bone snapped with a wet crack. The tanto clattered to the floor.
Scarface's scream was raw and animal.
Dante drove his knee into the man's stomach. Once. Twice. The third impact sent Scarface crumpling to the carpet, gasping like a fish drowning in air.
The room went still.
Seven guards left. They stared at their downed leader, then at Dante. Fear started replacing professionalism in their eyes.
Dante looked at his hands. Blood from Scarface's broken wrist stained his knuckles. The Cursed Energy still hummed beneath his skin, eager, hungry for more.
I could do this all day. Beat them down one by one. Make it hurt. Make it last.
But the thought of Sakiko locked in that basement cell cut through the rising bloodlust.
No time for this. Gotta make it fast.
He remembered the other power. The one that had bisected him in the white void. The invisible slash that had ended his existence before two dead gods put him back together.
Shrine. Sukuna's technique. The one that cuts.
Knowledge flooded his mind. Not instructions, exactly. More like understanding that had always been there, just waiting for him to access it. He knew how to shape the Cursed Energy. How to project it outward. How to make reality itself open up and bleed.
Dante raised his right hand. Formed his fingers into a loose gun shape. Pointed at the space between the remaining guards.
Here goes nothing.
"Dismantle."
The word felt right. Like naming a thing gave it permission to exist.
Cursed Energy erupted from his fingertips.
The Six Eyes tracked its path. An arc of invisible force, expanding outward in a wave. It didn't cut through the air so much as redefine the space it touched. Reality itself disagreed with anything occupying that particular slice of existence.
The guard with the kusari-fundo was standing directly in the wave's path.
He had maybe half a second to register what was happening. His eyes went wide. His mouth opened to scream.
Then physics caught up.
The slash hit him at chest level. Passed through flesh and bone like they were tissue paper.
His upper body slid sideways off his legs. The two halves hit the ground with wet thumps that sounded impossibly loud in the sudden silence.
Another guard caught the edge of the technique. His left arm from the elbow down just ceased being attached to the rest of him. The severed limb dropped, fingers still twitching around the baton it had been holding.
He stared at the stump. Started screaming.
Scarface, still gasping on the floor, had been in the wave's trajectory too. The slash caught his right arm at the shoulder. The limb separated cleanly, rolling a few feet before coming to rest against the wall.
He stopped screaming about his broken wrist. Started making sounds that didn't resemble language anymore.
The remaining guards froze.
Dante stared at his hand. At the bodies. At what he'd just done with a single gesture and a word.
Holy fucking shit.
Blood pooled across Raven's expensive carpet. The metallic smell mixed with the perfume and jazz music still drifting through the office. The contrast was surreal. Grotesque.
The surviving guards backed toward the door. Weapons forgotten. Eyes locked on Dante like he'd transformed into something monstrous right in front of them.
One of them reached the door. Grabbed the handle.
Dante didn't stop him. Didn't even look at him.
The Six Eyes were focused on Raven.
She'd stood up from her desk. Moved to the side for a better view. The detached amusement had evaporated completely.
What looked at him now was hunger. Pure and simple. Her golden eyes practically glowed in the ambient light. The vertical pupils had contracted to razor slits.
"Well now."
Her voice vibrated through the room. Lower than before. Thick with something that made the hair on Dante's neck stand up.
"That's a much, much prettier trick."
She stepped over the bisected guard's corpse without looking down. Her bare feet left small prints in the spreading blood. The kimono's silk hem dragged through it, red butterflies now accented with actual crimson.
"I've met plenty of Devil Hunters. They all had their little tricks. Their pathetic bargains with creatures they barely understood." She stopped directly across from him, the dead guard's torso between them. "But you're different."
Her smile spread across her face like blood in water.
"You're not a Devil Hunter at all, are you, darling?"
Dante's mouth felt dry. The adrenaline from the fight was fading. Reality was catching up. He'd just killed two people and maimed three others in the span of maybe ten seconds.
The door behind him slammed as the last guards fled.
"My turn," Raven purred.
The crimson haze that had been pooling around her all night suddenly condensed. Drew inward. Wrapped around her body like a second skin.
Then it exploded outward.
The wave of pure desire hit Dante like a physical force. His knees buckled. Every nerve ending in his body screamed at him to fall. To surrender. To give this creature what it wanted.
The Six Eyes painted the attack in stark clarity. It wasn't physical. It was metaphysical. Spiritual. Designed to bypass every defense except pure willpower.
Dante gritted his teeth. Forced his legs to lock.
Not happening. Not today.
His own Cursed Energy surged up in response. A shield he didn't know how to properly form. Just raw spiritual pressure pushing back against hers.
The two forces met in the air between them. Reality shuddered.
Raven's eyes widened. Just a fraction.
Then her smile became absolutely feral.
"Oh, you beautiful, delicious boy." She licked her lips. "You're going to be so much fun to break!"