Level “?”: Love

  Wishing to personally oversee Dante’s trial, Love fully entered his illusion.

  Dante’s closed eyelids twitched with unrest inside the energy tube that kept him suspended — trapped in a dream that refused to release him.

  — Again here?! — asked a euphoric voice beside him.

  Turning sharply, Dante saw a man identical to himself. Same face. Same haircut. Same clothes. Same stance.

  But the eyes were different — more alive. Darker.

  — Who are you? — he asked, confused, trying to digest what his senses were showing him.

  — Me? — the other replied with an ironic smile. — I’m you… well, you before you became a coward.

  I’m the part that didn’t cry for anyone. The one who took what he wanted. The one who kicked hard — because he knew if he didn’t, someone else would.

  The city trembled. From the streets below rose screams, alarms, sirens. Dante felt a strange pressure in his chest at those words…

  Something was chasing him. Something always was.

  The weight of the bag, packed with jewels and bundles of cash, soon tired his arm, so he pressed it against his chest instinctively.

  It felt comforting to hold something so valuable.

  — Don’t you miss it? — asked his reflection. — The adrenaline. The respect earned through fear. The hot cash. The greedy looks of the whores.

  The freedom of owing nothing to anyone. Of doing what you want, when you want.

  This was real. Far too real, thought Dante, staring in bewilderment at his own reflection. He tried to understand whether this was a manifestation of his mind… or if he was simply going mad.

  Even without his sense of touch, he could feel the weight of the loot, its texture, its scent.

  It was as if his muscles remembered what his mind couldn’t translate.

  As if he had lived this moment hundreds, thousands of times before.

  Then, a sharp pain deep inside made him hesitate.

  Something wasn’t right.

  A silent voice within him screamed that he needed to remember something important… but he didn’t know what.

  His lost gaze wandered across the chaotic city, searching for answers.

  What was this feeling?

  His intuition?

  His instinct?

  Why did it feel so suffocating… so desperate?

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall it.

  Maybe… it wasn’t that important after all.

  His thoughts were interrupted by his double’s voice.

  — What if we went back? — his doppelganger whispered, breaking the silence. — There’s no pain there. No codes. Just us against the world. Like before. Like it’s always been.

  A loud helicopter roared nearby, catching him off guard.

  Flares shot into the distant sky.

  Dante turned, startled. He thought he heard something.

  Several armed silhouettes were running towards the rooftop. They were after him — full of hatred.

  That feeling again. Someone was definitely coming for him.

  An old enemy? A betrayed client? A partner gone wrong? The police?

  Who cared.

  He moved towards the edge of the rooftop, searching for a way out. Down below, among heaps of rubbish, he glimpsed a possible escape.

  His double watched him with a grin, as if reading his mind.

  Down there was the war Dante knew well.

  The one that had shaped him.

  The one his father had taught him with every blow.

  The one his mother had wept for in silence.

  The one his sister Mel had carved into her bones when she stopped speaking out of fear.

  No one would come to save him.

  They never did.

  Love? What was that?

  Ha! What a joke.

  The only thing he ever loved was what gave him power —

  easy money, danger, control.

  He loved that life because it made him feel worth something.

  Because it gave him the weapons to keep breathing.

  Even while rotting inside.

  “Interesting… deliciously interesting…”

  The voice of Love echoed faintly — a whisper in the illusory dimension.

  Love doesn’t appear here as a mother, a partner, or a daughter, it thought.

  Here, love is a lifestyle — a twisted way of teaching that to destroy first is to protect, that stealing is survival, that if you don’t crush, you’ll be crushed.

  His trial doesn’t manifest as pain… but as temptation.

  Love’s reflection faded, and the illusion resumed its course.

  — You can stay — whispered his reflection. — Let's jump together.

  You can be who you were again.

  A hatch opened.

  The city roared with fury.

  Countless gunfights between guerrillas echoed like an inevitable invitation.

  Violence called to him like a siren’s song.

  That smell of gunpowder felt so invigorating.

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  Dante’s reflection smiled and walked towards the edge of the building.

  He held out his hand.

  That was when Dante noticed the bag slung over his twin’s back — just like his own, filled with cash… but completely soaked in blood.

  — Let’s go back now.

  No rules.

  No guilt.

  Just you and me.

  For an instant, Dante hesitated.

  And it was then — without realising it — that the ground around him began to crack open, spreading with countless fissures glowing in crimson light.

  From those cracks, tiny Quantum Larvae began to emerge, slowly ascending, multiplying.

  They crawled up his legs, his torso, his arms — and he didn’t even notice…

  Dante took a step forward, intending to follow his alter ego.

  It was then that a sharp, inner pang struck him — sharper than before.

  It forced him to halt.

  — Something isn’t right… — he whispered, confused —. This feeling again… it’s like it’s trying to stop me.

  A distant explosion made him turn.

  The roar of a motorbike fleeing the police echoed far away.

  — I… I remember this… — he murmured, flooded by countless mental images, reminding him of his fall into Nullaria.

  A brutal kick. A girl hitting the ground. The bag torn from his hands.

  The engine’s roar. The wind slicing across his face.

  Laughter. Adrenaline. Power.

  Traffic lights approaching.

  The blinding flash of headlights.

  The skid. The screech of metal. The thud.

  Fear.

  Cowardice.

  His own lifeless body on the asphalt.

  The scent of blood. The darkness.

  It wasn’t a mistake.

  It was a choice.

  And it was driven by fear.

  Not the fear of dying…

  But the fear of stopping.

  Of feeling the void inside his wretched existence.

  A shiver ran through his body.

  He remembered what he had felt in the battle against the Seventh Terror: Respect.

  That force that had pushed him to move forward when nothing was left.

  The one that taught him that respect meant recognising life.

  Accepting pain without returning it.

  Breaking the cycle that had shaped him.

  The cracks in the ground beneath his feet turned into rivers of molten, reddish radiation.

  His confusion only accelerated his descent into the illusion.

  The tiny, translucent Quantum Larvae began to invade his body — through his eyes, mouth, nose, and pores… unstoppable.

  His reflection spoke, aggressive, seizing upon his doubt.

  — Are you coming or not? Or will you stay in that miserable coward’s role that suits you so well?

  This lifestyle gave you everything. It never failed you. It saved you.

  Dante looked at him, suddenly understanding something.

  He stared at his own hand.

  For a moment, reality twisted before his eyes: he saw his body glowing red, entirely consumed by millions of tiny points.

  He blinked.

  Everything vanished.

  — There’s something… something important… — he thought, trying to focus.

  A fleeting memory crossed his mind: his little sister Mel smiling. Waiting for him on Earth.

  And then he understood.

  It wasn’t an idea. It wasn’t a revelation.

  It was a deep feeling within him — a certainty rising from the soul.

  He knew this wasn’t life.

  He knew he no longer wished to walk that same circle.

  That love — that obsession with what had been — was what had kept him bound.

  It wasn’t love… it was fear of moving forward.

  A desire to relive what had already burned out.

  He drew a deep breath.

  — I can’t change what I was — he said —. It will live with me until the day I die.

  He lifted his gaze to his reflection and continued —

  — But I know something here isn’t right.

  You’re making a great effort to drag me back into that.

  I’m not stupid.

  So I’ll give you my final answer: I don’t want this anymore.

  I don’t want to be this again.

  And then the Quantum Larvae stopped dead.

  The entire illusionary world shuddered.

  Dante lowered his gaze.

  Then, he understood clearly:

  It isn’t wrong to love this lifestyle.

  After all, he had learned much from it — good and bad alike.

  What destroys isn’t love… it’s clinging.

  Holding onto what no longer is.

  To what exists only in memory or in fear of evolving into something better.

  To selfish love that denies the present and suffocates change.

  Only those who understand that real love means letting go can be free.

  — Thank you — Dante murmured, firmly —. I enjoyed that lifestyle. But I don’t need it anymore. It no longer exists.

  But I do.

  I need to move forward.

  He let the bag, stuffed with bundles of cash and jewels, drop into the void.

  His reflection screamed a soul-wrenching “Noooo!” and began to disintegrate, burning from within.

  The entire city groaned like glass under a hammer.

  The world split gently, as if someone had switched it off at the core.

  Without violence.

  And then, everything dissolved like dust in the wind.

  All was swallowed by darkness.

  A glow erupted, shattering the crimson tube in which he had been trapped into a thousand fragments.

  Dante fell to his knees, gasping.

  His sense of touch returned: his hands, his skin, his weight.

  He looked at himself, bewildered.

  For a moment, he thought:

  — Was all of this… a refuge disguised as happiness?

  An illusion made of desire, fear, and habit…

  Is this what Love wanted to show me?

  Only silence replied, as the fragments of the tube turned into sparkling dust around him.

  — My heart is still weak — he whispered —. But I have to strip all this away.

  Move forward.

  Return to Earth.

  Escape this place.

  Dante lifted his gaze in confusion.

  In front of him, Love observed him in her second form.

  Levitating.

  Silent.

  As if watching a true anomaly.

  Dante exhaled a broken, concerned breath.

  I defeated Love… once again, he thought, watching her in this second transformation without surprise.

  As if he had seen her hundreds of times before.

  Suddenly, she smiled.

  — It was beautiful… thank you so much… Dante Montenegro.

  — Loving life isn’t about possessing it — she continued serenely —. It’s about honouring it.

  Dante began to walk slowly towards her, still trembling, still feeling the Quantum Larvae retracting within him, as if something of that illusion still lingered on his skin.

  Yet he continued, guided by a strange calm, as though every step reminded him that a fragment of humanity still remained.

  Because he was no longer afraid.

  With each step, he observed the colossal form of her second transformation.

  Love was both beautiful and terrible. Divine and monstrous.

  Her naked form unsettled him, and though a flush rose to his face, he forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on her eyes.

  Dante knew she would ask him for a favour.

  She extended her hand and, in a warmer voice, requested:

  — Show me your Sword of Light.

  He paused for a moment, then invoked it.

  The sword materialised in his hand. He already knew what was to come.

  — Now… at last… — Love said, calmer —. I can die in peace.

  At last, someone has shown me real love.

  One that does not seek to possess. That does not cling.

  One that knows how to let go.

  Perhaps… and only perhaps… there is hope in this world.

  — Do you wish me to purify you? — Dante asked directly.

  He had seen it in his regressions.

  She paused, surprised for a moment, then smiled serenely and nodded without a word, extending her arms.

  — Purify me with your true love… your pure love.

  Dante did not hesitate.

  There was no confusion. Only understanding.

  He had done this before, and he was ready to do it once more.

  He took his stance and, gripping the sword with both hands, stepped forward and gently sank it into her chest.

  Love did not cry out. She smiled. She closed her eyes.

  Her body began to tremble like glass about to shatter.

  The entire dimension shook.

  The walls vibrated like paper in fire.

  The artificial sky cracked.

  Everything shattered like broken crystal.

  The tubes containing the souls began to fracture, exploding into a thousand pieces and turning into countless crimson particles.

  The energy that had sustained them no longer served a purpose.

  Virellian and Bealuna remained frozen in time, unmoved.

  Love, smiling through tears of light, disintegrated into millions of reddish particles that floated like ashes on the wind.

  A small red salamander emerged from the accumulated sparkling scarlet dust on the ground, shaking itself with an agile movement.

  It moved swiftly through the air, leaving a faint trail of light, until it hovered directly before Dante’s eyes.

  It studied him silently, with a clear, non-judgmental gaze, and extended its long tongue, suspending the Red Divine Stone in the air, rotating slowly on its axis before him.

  The creature tilted its head, as if bidding farewell, and vanished into the darkness as quickly as it had appeared.

  Red Divine Stone

  Dante watched it depart, bewildered.

  It was not the first time he had seen a strange creature appear after a Terror’s defeat; he had always assumed they were remnants of whatever little nobility they retained.

  But he paid it no mind. Whatever it was had fulfilled its purpose.

  He quickly pocketed the stone before anyone could see, knowing he could trust no one.

  Time began to flow again.

  Virellian blinked, Bealuna screamed at the collapsing sky.

  Horacio ran among the crumbling tubes, desperate.

  He only found Jonathan, pale-faced.

  — Have you seen Bebe or Chichilla? — he asked.

  Jonathan shook his head, still dazed and confused.

  — They’re nowhere… — Horacio murmured.

  Bealuna called out May’s name, but received no reply.

  There was only emptiness. Silence.

  As everything around them trembled and cracked.

  Of the forty souls summoned for Love’s judgement, only ten survived.

  The requirement of three souls had been fulfilled with Dante, Virellian, and Bealuna.

  The other seven survived purely by luck: Dante had defeated Love before her judgement reached completion and the Quantum Larvae could consume them.

  The entire dimension collapsed.

  The collapse turned into light, a reddish glow that devoured everything.

  Soon, that light condensed into an incandescent sun that blinding them.

  When the brightness dissipated, the ten survivors found themselves in an entirely different place.

  Upon opening their eyes, they stood on a floating plain, an island suspended in the air, surrounded by fluffy white clouds beneath a bright, blue sky.

  Around them, floating bridges connected their island to others, disappearing into the horizon.

  Then, before Dante’s eyes, a notification appeared:

  [Level 1002: Axis +X. Class 1 — Survival Difficulty: Tolerable]

  Occasional presence of non-aggressive entities.

  Hazards are minimal or easy to avoid.

  Hostility depends, in general, on human behaviour.

  Survival is possible with caution. Multiple exit routes identified.

  Dante exhales with hint of relief.

  He looked around, then down at his hands.

  With a bitter laugh he murmured with resignation:

  — Once again, I am here… in the realm of that wretched…

  Though he had known he would end up here, he still cursed having to encounter someone he despised once more

  Love’s judgement had ended.

  But the battle for survival… had only just begun.

  End of Chapter Eleven.

  Love’s illusion.

  In Nullaria, even purity can become a prison if the heart refuses to move on. What Dante experienced was not loss, but release — a brief glimpse of freedom through pain.

  Terror reveals a fragment of what we are, and Love is perhaps the cruelest of all: it demands honesty.

  — Alberto Báez