Chapter Text
Long before the prophecy of the Lamb and the binding of T.O.W.W., a figure named Dante emerged in the shadowed lands of the Old Faith. A devoted follower of Shamura, the Bishop of War and Knowledge, he had little memory of his origins. His earliest was of Shamura’s cult, where he was nearly sacrificed as a child, only to be spared by the bishop himself, or so the followers claimed
He found his place in Shamura’s cult with ease, the rigid structure of the Old Faith suiting his disciplined nature. Towering over most cultists, his frame rivaled that of a guardian. Unlike the others, who wore robes emblazoned with Shamura’s symbol, he favored simple, unadorned attire, rejecting the cult’s ornate garments.
To his surprise, his unwavering dedication earned him the title of Shamura’s disciple, a role that came with a talisman, its purpose a mystery bound to him alone. He sensed favoritism in the careful way the cult treated him, an oddity among Shamura’s brood, but he pushed the thought aside. Questioning his lord’s will felt unnecessary; service was enough
When free from duties, Dante retreated to the ancient library, a cavernous hall of crumbling tomes and flickering torches, accessible only by Shamura’s permission. He pored over texts that sparked his curiosity, drawn to accounts of war and battle, subjects that resonated deep within him. Unlike the cult’s Guardians, Healers, Summoners, or Juggernauts, who sought power through magic, Dante had no interest in enchantments, preferring the clarity of steel and strategy.
One day he was tasked with monitoring a group that sacrificed someone in Shamuras name as they needed some form of overseer to see the task to its completion. He felt strongly opposed to sacrificing individuals to prove one's faith as he knows the fear and dread that comes from nearly being one himself. Upon finding a sacrifice that they thought would be suitable they wasted no time to get everything in place and while they were getting this individual to the sacrificial point he decided to take a look at the one who is soon to be sacrificed in Shamuras name in more detail.
It was a female cat, unlike any he’d seen in Silk Cradle’s domain. Her coat puffed up in fear, ears pinned back, pupils narrowed to pinprick slits. Despair clung to her, her gaze darting for an escape, until her amber eyes locked with his.
They pleaded, begging for a savior, a miracle to spare her. The raw desire to live in her stare struck Dante, stirring a feeling he couldn’t name. It dragged him back to his own near-sacrifice, the memory of Shamura’s intervention vivid and sharp
He looked away from the frightened cat to collect himself, took a deep breath, and faced forward, mustering a stoic expression. He was given an assignment from his lord and he does not want to falter here and now. Yet his chest tightens with a feeling he couldn't shake. For when it was time as the sacrifice was soon held in place with web a foreign thought came to his head as a faint Amethyst glow flickered in his eyes.
Let them sacrifice the individual for whom he has no attachment to and complete the task given by his lord or…save them like how Shamura saved him despite knowing the consequences?. Despite his loyalty and mind telling him the obvious choice for this situation. He can't help but notice that her fear mirrored his own from years ago, a memory that always fueled is loyalty now ignited something anew
At that moment, something snapped. Was it selfish, or selfless? He didn’t know. His hand moved before his mind caught up, drawing his blade. With a swift slash, he cut the webbing, nicking her cheek. She fell, and he caught her with his free hand.
The cultists froze, then erupted in outrage. Dante spun, striking a nearby scamp with his sword’s pommel, knocking them out cold. He set the cat gently on her feet, then snatched a fallen dagger and hurled it, the blade sinking into a guardian’s shoulder with a thud. He stepped forward, planting himself as a shield between the cat and the cultists. His eyes burned a deep amethyst, panic clashing with a strange certainty: this was right.
Their eyes blazing with accusation as Dante brandished his sword. He nudged the cat behind him, her trembling form pressing close. The cultists surged forward, daggers and swords glinting, but Dante held his ground, raising his blade with the hilt near his shoulder, its tip aimed at their advance.
Outnumbered, he stepped back slowly, the cat mirroring his retreat. His mind raced—precision could end this without bloodshed. A scamp lunged, dagger flashing toward his chest. Dante sidestepped, striking the attacker’s temple with his pommel, sending them crumpling to the ground.
A guardian, blood seeping from the dagger wound in their shoulder, drew a sword and advanced, voice dripping with fury.
Guardian: “Heretic! You defile our lord’s ritual. You’ll pay with your life and hers!”
Dante gestured for them to come closer, his silence a taunt to their eyes. The guardian charged, slashing wildly. This was met with a dodge, pulling the cat into his embrace to shield her, then parried a thrust, his blade ringing against theirs. With a twist, he disarmed the guardian, sending their sword skittering across the stone.
Before the guardian could retaliate, a swordsman stepped forward, voice calm but firm.
Swordsmen: “Enough. He’s our better, and he hasn’t killed. This isn’t worth to now potentially risk our lives if we advance further”
Guardian: “But the heretics, they need to be punished!”
Swordsmen: “And they will, But we live to fight another day”
Guardian: “very well…you live this day heretic”
Reluctantly, the two retreated, casting a venomous glare at Dante and the cat before vanishing into the shadows . He would take a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, turning to kneel and look at the cat to make sure they weren't injured. finding only a shallow cut on her cheek. Her fur, still frayed, softened slightly, hope flickering in her amber eyes.
Dante rose, wincing as a sharp pain lanced on his shoulder, a wound from the fight he didn't notice. He waved off the cat’s concern, adrenaline dulling the sting. He assumed that his focus made him unaware of the injury he sustained
Cat:[Her voice carried an accent unfamiliar to him]
“Are you going to be ok?”
Dante: [He nods, using his ears to hear any incoming cultists]
Cat: “I'm fine, They didn't hurt me but we should find refuge. Maybe somewhere safer than here?”
With a nod he led the way through the twisting caves, the cat speed-walking to match his stride. Him scanning the area for any cultists up ahead.
Cat: “Thank you…”
[Her voice became soft]
“I don’t want to think what would’ve happened if you weren't here. I’m ????”
Dante: [He repeated her name mentally as they continued]
“...Dante”
????: “That's an interesting name…Never heard of that one before”
They reached the cave’s mouth sooner than ???? expected, the cool air of Anura’s marshes washing over them. Dante paused, glancing back into the darkness. ???? stopped, confusion knitting her brow.
????: “Why go back?”
He hesitated, uncertainty in his stance. The caves were all he’d known, yet the weight of his actions settled like stone
????: “Those who defy the old faith are destroyed”
He heard her say gently, Quoting the cults mantra. This made him turn back and see her hand extended, Her smile warm.
???: “Why don't you come with me? We could find a place in Anura. You could tell from the glinting mushrooms that thrive here. We can find or make a home and I can show you things that would be much better than in that cave”
Dante met her gaze, the amethyst flicker in his eyes softening. He couldn’t return, not as a heretic. Taking her hand, he stepped into the open, leaving Silk Cradle behind. Being hopeful that this does not spark his lord's wrath.
In time, they found a village wary of Dante’s size and cultist attire. ???? vouched for him, easing their fears by claiming he’d fled the Old Faith. The villagers, cautious but kind, offered shelter. As he adapted to this new life, ???? showed him the world beyond the cult, its beauty, its cruelties, and the truths the Old Faith buried. Her kindness, support, and eventual love reshaped him, unveiling a purpose beyond servitude: to protect her and the family they would build.
Yet some memories faded, blurred by time and choices Dante no longer wished to recall, leaving only fragments of the life they forged.