Chapter 13: The Inferno
The velvet-lined silence of the private room shattered the moment Dabi’s scarred hand closed around Dante’s. It wasn’t warmth he felt, but a sudden, bone-deep chill, a suction pulling at his very molecules. Dante’s molten gold eyes held him, a mix of warning and bleak invitation. Then, the world dissolved.
Not in a blur, but a rip. The plush sofa, the scent of sex and blood, the muffled thump of the club – all tore away like cheap scenery. Dabi gasped, the sound ripped from his lungs in the vacuum. Cold, thin air scraped his throat, carrying a cacophony of smells that slammed into him like a physical blow: sulfur sharp enough to sear, the sweet-rot reek of decay, ozone, hot copper, and beneath it all, the pervasive, stomach-churning stench of despair. It wasn't just bad air; it was the exhalation of damnation.
His feet hit uneven, grating stone. Dante’s grip was the only anchor as Dabi swayed, blinking against the sudden, oppressive gloom. Light came from a bruised, bruised sky choked with ash, casting everything in sickly shades of ochre and bruise-purple. Jagged spires of obsidian clawed at the low ceiling of clouds, and the ground beneath was cracked volcanic rock that radiated a sinister heat.
"Welcome," Dante murmured, his voice echoing strangely in the thick air, devoid of its usual club-smooth cadence. It was the voice of the land, ancient and weary. "To the Inferno. My… domain."
Dabi forced his gaze outward, beyond the shock. And Hell unfolded.
It wasn't a single landscape, but layered, overlapping horrors. To their left, a vast, frozen lake stretched, its surface not ice, but a translucent, shifting membrane. Trapped beneath it, contorted figures writhed in eternal silent screams, their faces pressed against the sheer surface, eyes wide with unending terror. Traitors, Dante supplied silently, his thoughts brushing Dabi’s awareness like the scrape of a wing. Frozen in the act of their betrayal.
Ahead, a river of viscous, boiling tar churned, thick with struggling bodies that screamed as the molten sludge stripped flesh from bone. Silhouettes with leathery wings – Fallen, Dante identified – dove from the bruised sky, talons raking the boiling surface, dragging shrieking souls under only for them to bob back up moments later, regenerated flesh already blistering anew. The Wrathful. Their anger fuels the fire.
Then the sounds hit him. Not just screams – though those were a constant, discordant symphony – but the wet, tearing crunch of bone, the sizzle of flesh on hot rock, the unearthly shrieks of creatures that defied logic. A pack of monstrous, skeletal hounds with eyes burning like coals loped past, their jaws snapping at phantasmal shapes that flitted just out of reach. Farther off, a towering, emaciated figure with antlers like dead branches and skin stretched taut over bone – Wendigo – dragged a still-twitching carcass into a shadowed crevice.
"Fucking hell," Dabi breathed, the words barely audible over the din. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum against the backdrop of eternal suffering. He squeezed Dante’s hand, hard. "This is… it?"
"This is the antechamber," Dante corrected grimly, starting to walk. His steps were sure on the treacherous ground. "The sorting ground. Where the newly condemned get a taste before their personalized eternity."
They passed a chained angel, its once-luminous wings now ragged, blackened stumps, forced to perpetually rebuild a crumbling marble wall that dissolved as fast as it reformed. Its eyes, when it glanced up, held a depth of sorrow that made Dabi’s gut clench. Nearby, a group of sharp-fanged, pale figures in tattered finery – Vampires – circled a terrified, weeping soul, their hissing laughter a counterpoint to the victim’s sobs. Suddenly, one lunged, fangs sinking deep. The soul convulsed, then dissolved into smoke… only to reform seconds later, untouched but screaming even louder as the vampires closed in again. Gluttons. Always hungry, never sated.
A banshee’s wail split the air, so piercing it felt like ice picks driving into Dabi’s temples. He flinched, burying his face momentarily against Dante’s shoulder. The demon prince didn’t recoil; his arm came up, wrapping around Dabi in a protective gesture that felt incongruous amidst the horror. "Easy," Dante murmured, his voice a low rumble against Dabi’s ear. "Her song only kills mortals instantly. Here, it just… amplifies the despair."
They descended a winding path carved into a cliff face. The air grew hotter, thicker, smelling of charred meat and singed hair. Below, in a vast, fiery pit, figures writhed. Some were recognizably human, burning and screaming. Others were monstrous hybrids – scaled torsos, multiple limbs, faces twisted beyond recognition. The Heretics. The Seducers. The Violent. Demons with barbed whips and glowing brands moved among them, not just inflicting pain, but sculpting it, refining the agony. Dabi watched, numb, as a demon meticulously peeled the skin from a shrieking figure inch by agonizing inch, only for it to regenerate instantly for the process to begin again. The artistry Dante had shown him was horrifically manifest.
"See that one?" Dante pointed with his chin towards a massive, tentacled horror submerged partially in a lake of acid, its maw full of rows of needle-sharp teeth constantly gnashing. It was being swarmed by smaller, winged imps tearing chunks from its hide. "Leviathan. Pride. He wanted to be God. Now he’s an all-you-can-eat buffet for vermin. Forever." Dante’s voice held no triumph, only a terrible, resigned finality. "Death isn’t an escape here, Dabi. It’s a reset button on the torment. The soul remembers every second. Eternity… isn’t a long time. It’s every time."
The sheer, suffocating weight of it pressed down on Dabi. The endlessness. The pointlessness. The raw, unadulterated agony resonating in every scream, every sizzle, every tearing sound. It wasn't just violence; it was the absolute negation of hope. He looked up at Dante’s profile, stark against the hellish glow. The demon prince’s face was impassive, but the ancient weariness in his eyes was deeper than the pit below. He wasn't just showing Dabi a place; he was showing him the source of his own existence, the fuel for his power, the millstone around his neck for millennia.
A wave of something unexpected washed over Dabi – not just horror or disgust, but a fierce, aching surge of… something else. A perverse fascination, twisted with a raw, desperate need to connect with the creature who ruled this nightmare. The vulnerability Dante had shown him, the monstrous necessity of his feeding, the centuries of loneliness etched into him – it all coalesced here, in this charnel house of his own making. The desire that had ignited after the feeding roared back, hotter, hungrier, a defiant spark against the overwhelming darkness.
He stopped walking, jerking Dante to a halt. They stood on a precarious ledge overlooking the Lake of Fire, the heat blasting their faces. Dante turned, questioning, his brow furrowed.
Dabi didn't speak. He shoved Dante back against the rough, hot stone of the cliff face. Dante’s eyes widened in surprise, then flared with sudden, intense heat as Dabi’s hands fumbled with the fastenings of Dante’s trousers, yanking them down roughly over his hips. Dante’s cock, already half-hard, sprang free, thick and flushed in the hellish light, a stark, vital contrast to the surrounding desolation.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Dante growled, though he made no move to stop him, his body taut with anticipation.
"Shut up," Dabi snarled, his own hands trembling slightly, not with fear, but with urgency. He spat into his palm, the meager moisture sizzling faintly on his skin from the ambient heat. He slicked Dante’s shaft roughly, the friction drawing a sharp hiss from the demon’s lips. Dabi shoved his own jeans and boxers down just enough, turning around, bracing his hands against the hot rock. He looked back over his shoulder, his blue eyes blazing with defiance and desire against the backdrop of eternal damnation. "Need you. Now. Right fucking here."
He didn't wait for permission. He reached back, guiding Dante’s thick, slick cockhead to his entrance. Dante’s hands clamped onto Dabi’s hips, his claws pricking the skin even through the fabric of Dabi’s shirt. Dante’s gaze was molten, fixed on the point where they were about to join. With a guttural sound that was half-growl, half-groan, Dante thrust forward, sheathing himself inside Dabi in one brutal, powerful stroke.
"FUCK!" Dabi screamed, the sound swallowed by the roar of the fire below. The stretch was immense, agonizing, the heat of Dante inside him rivaling the furnace air. He was pinned between the inferno at his back and the demon impaling him, the rough stone scraping his palms. Dante didn't pause. He withdrew almost completely, the drag exquisite torture, then slammed back in, hard enough to drive the breath from Dabi’s lungs. He set a relentless, punishing pace, each deep thrust driving Dabi forward against the rock, the hard planes of Dante’s tattooed chest pressed against his back.
The sounds they made were lost in the symphony of Hell – Dabi’s ragged cries, Dante’s harsh grunts, the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh. Dante’s grip on his hips was bruising, claws digging in, holding him steady for the brutal onslaught. He leaned forward, his hot breath searing Dabi’s neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin below his ear. The piercings on his lip scraped Dabi’s shoulder.
"Like that?" Dante rasped, his voice thick with exertion and dark pleasure. "Fucking you in the heart of my Hell? This what you wanted to see, pretty thing?" He punctuated the question with a particularly savage thrust that made Dabi see stars.
"Yes!" Dabi gasped, arching back against him, taking him deeper, the pain and pleasure blurring into white-hot need. "Fuck! Yes! Harder, Dante! Show me! Show me all of it!" His own cock strained, trapped and aching. He reached down, stroking himself roughly, the friction almost painful, perfectly timed with Dante’s pounding.
Dante roared, a sound that momentarily silenced the nearby screams. He pistoned into Dabi with abandon, his thrusts becoming wilder, deeper, each one a claiming, a defiance against the despair surrounding them. He shifted his angle, grinding deep, hitting that spot that sent lightning bolts of pure ecstasy up Dabi’s spine. Dabi cried out, his body convulsing, his release exploding from him in hot spurts that painted the dark stone before him. His inner muscles clenched down violently on Dante’s buried cock.
Dante snarled, his rhythm faltering. He slammed deep and held, his body rigid against Dabi’s back, his own climax tearing through him with a guttural, animalistic cry. Dabi felt the hot, thick flood pulse deep inside him, filling him, branding him as Dante emptied himself with shuddering force.
They slumped together against the scorching cliff face, Dante’s weight heavy on Dabi’s back, their harsh breaths mingling with the screams and the roar of the Lake of Fire. Sweat poured down Dabi’s face, stinging his eyes. Dante’s arms tightened around him, not possessively now, but almost… desperately. His forehead rested against the nape of Dabi’s neck.
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged, a fragile bubble in the heart of eternal torment. Below, the damned burned and screamed. Above, the bruised sky wept ash. Dante’s seed was a warm, wet claim inside him. Dabi stared out over the nightmare panorama, Dante’s presence a solid anchor against it. He hadn’t just seen the monster’s lair; he’d fucked the monster in its heart.
Dante finally stirred, pulling out slowly, the loss making Dabi gasp. The demon prince turned Dabi around, his gaze searching Dabi’s face, the ancient exhaustion etched even deeper now, mixed with something raw and questioning. Dabi met his eyes, his own expression unreadable beneath the sheen of sweat and grime.
"What now?" Dante asked, his voice hoarse. The question hung in the sulfurous air, heavy with the weight of the Inferno and the unspoken future stretching before them.
The question hung in the sulfurous air, heavy with the weight of the Inferno and the unspoken future stretching before them. Before Dabi could formulate an answer, a presence materialized from the swirling ash and shadow near the cliff face. It moved with an unnerving, skeletal grace, all sharp angles and unnatural stillness. Dabi froze, instinct screaming danger. The creature was emaciated, skin stretched taut over protruding bones, giving it a desiccated, mummified look. Antlers, massive and branched like dead trees, rose from its skull, scraping the low, bruised sky. Its eyes were deep, hollow pits radiating a chilling, insatiable hunger that seemed to pull at Dabi’s very soul. A Wendigo.
It didn’t look at Dabi. Its empty gaze fixed solely on Dante. A low, guttural clicking sound emanated from its throat, a dry rattle like stones tumbling in an empty barrel. Dante tilted his head slightly, listening, his molten gold eyes narrowed in concentration. He gave a single, sharp nod, a silent command. With a casual flick of his wrist, Dante gestured. The air beside the Wendigo rippled, then tore open like rotten fabric, revealing a swirling vortex of absolute darkness, colder than the surrounding hellscape. Without hesitation, the Wendigo crouched, its long, bony limbs folding unnaturally, and crawled silently into the yawning void. Dante snapped his fingers. The portal sealed shut with a final, sucking pop, leaving only the stench of decay and ozone.
"What the fuck was that?" Dabi demanded, his voice tight. He wiped sweat and grime from his brow, his heart still pounding from the encounter’s sudden, visceral horror. The image of those hollow eyes lingered.
"Wendigo," Dante replied flatly, his gaze still fixed on the spot where the portal vanished. His tone was matter-of-fact, devoid of the earlier intimacy. "Starving spirit. Once human. Cannibalism cursed them. Now they’re just… hunger made flesh. Eternal famine."
Dabi shuddered, the description chilling him despite the oppressive heat. "Fuck’s sake. Looked like it wanted to gnaw on my bones." He remembered the chilling void in its eyes, the palpable aura of starvation. "Why’d you let it crawl into your magic hole?"
Dante finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Sent it somewhere. To keep an eye on someone for me." He started walking again, further along the precarious ledge, forcing Dabi to follow or be left alone with the Lake of Fire’s screams.
Dabi scrambled after him, the rough rock scraping his already raw palms. "Keep an eye? On who?" The casualness of Dante deploying such a horror as a spy was almost as unsettling as the creature itself.
Dante stopped. He didn’t turn around. His broad shoulders, usually radiating power, seemed to slump almost imperceptibly under the weight of centuries. The silence stretched, thick with the crackle of distant flames and the wet tearing sounds from the pit below. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, rougher than the volcanic stone beneath their feet. "My brother."