The transition was wrong.

Dante had stepped through dozens of dungeon portals in the Zenith Protocol.

The sequence was always the same. There was a flash of light, a brief sensation of weightlessness, and the immediate materialization into a hostile environment.

But when he tapped the confirmation for the Abyss-tier difficulty, the system didn’t drop him into a dungeon.

He was suspended in a completely silent and starless void.

There was no ground beneath his boots. There was no sky. He was floating in an infinite expanse of absolute nothingness.

The only light came from the glowing gold plating of his [Sun-Forged Cuirass].

"System?" Dante called out.

The interface didn’t pop up. His chat logs were dead.

"The system cannot hear you in here, Outworlder."

Dante spun around in the zero-gravity void.

Sitting a few feet away suspended in the dark was Lady Vespera.

She wasn’t wearing her unassuming apothecary dress, but she wasn’t in her terrifying phoenix-winged Celestial armor either.

She looked completely ethereal and was cast entirely in translucent and flickering violet light.

She was sitting casually with her legs crossed and held a glowing teacup.

"You hijacked a dungeon loading screen," Dante stated, genuinely impressed.

"I intercepted your transit queue," Vespera corrected and took a sip from the glowing cup.

"A minor manipulation of the local code of the Outpost. You are currently held in a suspended server partition. Time outside this space is frozen."

"Why?" Dante asked and crossed his arms.

"Because you clicked the Abyss difficulty," Vespera said and lowered her cup. Her violet eyes narrowed.

"I watched you casually execute a Calamity. I know you possess an astronomical damage output. But selecting the Abyss tier is not an act of bravery. It is an act of sheer unfettered suicide."

"It is the fastest way out of the beginner zone," Dante replied.

"I have people tracking my physical body in the real world. I do not have time to grind through fifty floors of bullet-sponge bosses on Normal difficulty.

I need to clear the Spire and get my account flagged for open-world banking immediately."

"The Abyss tier does not just increase monster health pools," Vespera warned. Her voice echoed in the void.

"It fundamentally breaks the rules of engagement. The system will actively attempt to murder you. It will spawn anomalies.

It will stack hazard debuffs. It is a quarantine zone designed for entities the system cannot legally delete."

Dante smirked. "Sounds like my kind of party."

Vespera stared at him for a long moment. She didn’t argue. She just let out a soft and elegant sigh.

"You humans and your limitless capacity for escalation," Vespera murmured.

"Very well. If you are determined to throw yourself into the meat grinder, I have business to conclude with you before you die."

Dante floated slightly closer. "I am listening."

"My intervention during the dragon attack exhausted the remaining energy of my projection," Vespera explained.

"The apothecary clerk, the shop, my physical presence in Outpost 404... it is all a digital shadow. A shackle placed upon me to monitor the recruits."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Where is your actual body?"

"Imprisoned," Vespera said. Her eyes darkened with ancient fury.

"Far to the east, deep within the capital of the Godfall Empire. The Emperor chained me to the bedrock of his palace ten millennia ago to siphon my celestial authority."

A massive and golden prompt suddenly materialized in the empty void between them.

[Hidden Quest Triggered: The Shackled Celestial]

[Classification: SSS-Rank (World Altering)]

[Objective: Travel to the capital of the Godfall Empire and shatter the astral chains binding the true physical form of Lady Vespera.]

[Time Limit: 6 Months (In-Game Time)]

[Penalty for Failure: Core of Lady Vespera is consumed. Permanent hostility with the Celestial Faction.]

Dante read the prompt. SSS-Rank quests were functionally myths.

In Aethelgard, the highest quest the entire Vanguard guild had ever triggered was an S-Rank. It took forty people a month to clear it.

"Six months is a tight window to overthrow an empire," Dante noted.

"You will not be doing it alone," Vespera said.

She reached into the folds of her translucent light and pulled out a small heavy coin.

It was forged from a brilliant white metal and stamped with the image of a burning sun.

She tossed it through the zero-gravity void. Dante caught it smoothly in his iron-plated gauntlet.

[Item Appraised: Legion Summons]

[Tier: Celestial]

[Type: Consumable Artifact]

[Description: A token of absolute cosmic authority. Upon crushing this token, the user instantly summons the dormant Celestial Honor Guard (500 Elite Vanguard Units, Level 80). The summoned legion will obey the absolute command of the user for exactly one hour before returning to the astral plane. One-time use.]

Dante stared at the token.

Five hundred Level 80 elite units.

It wasn’t just an item. It was a army in his pocket.

If he dropped this token in the middle of a guild war, he could wipe a rival faction off the map without ever drawing his sword.

"You are giving me an army," Dante said and looked up at her.

"I am giving you the tool required to breach the gates of the Emperor," Vespera corrected sharply.

"Do not waste it on your petty territorial squabbles with other Outworlders. Use it to break my chains."

Dante slid the [Legion Summons] token into his infinite inventory. He made sure it was safely tucked away next to the lethal [Bloom of Decay] flower.

"I will get you out," Dante promised. "Consider it a thank you for the health elixir."

Before Vespera could respond, the pitch-black void around them violently shuddered!

A loud tearing sound echoed through the silent space like heavy canvas being ripped down the middle.

A crack of bright blue light appeared in the darkness.

The face of the Blade-Saint pushed through the crack.

The NPC looked completely frantic, and his glowing white eyes were wide with panic.

He was actively forcing his way through the firewall of the system just to project his voice into the partition of Vespera.

"Dan!" the Blade-Saint roared. His voice glitched with heavy static. "Cancel the queue! You must cancel the queue immediately!"

"I am a little busy, old man," Dante called back.

"You do not understand the Abyss!" the Blade-Saint yelled and struggled to keep the blue crack open.

"I saw the server logs! I saw what you selected! The Abyss tier is not a trial! It is a cosmic waste disposal mechanism! No player, no guardian, no entity has survived it in millennia!"

"I have good stats," Dante said dismissively.

"Stats do not matter in the Abyss!" the Blade-Saint argued desperately.

"The system will strip your external safety nets. It disables all localized communication. It disables all emergency extraction scrolls. And it permanently disables your free game-wide revive."

"If your HP hits zero in there, you do not respawn at the Outpost!"

"I know," Dante said. "True Death applies. I read the warning label."

The Blade-Saint stared at him through the static-filled crack. He was completely baffled by the absolute lack of self-preservation of Dante.

"Why are you doing this? You are the prophesied Outworlder. You are meant to lead the Vanguard against the Void. If you die in that Spire, humanity loses its strongest piece."

"I am doing it because everyone else is choosing Normal or Hard," Dante said. His voice dropped to a cold and flat tone.

"I do not play in the shallow end. I want the loot at the bottom of the ocean."

The Blade-Saint opened his mouth to argue again, but Vespera raised her hand.

"Let him go, Warden," Vespera said softly. "The boy is either a god or a fool. The Spire will determine which."

Vespera snapped her fingers.

The blue crack in the void completely collapsed and cut off the frantic shouting of the Blade-Saint.

The glowing teacup in the hand of Vespera dissolved into light.

"Survive the Crucible, Dante," Vespera said and used his real name. "I will be waiting for you in the East."

The translucent form of Vespera shattered into a million violet particles.

The suspended server partition collapsed entirely.

Gravity returned instantly and pulled Dante straight down.

The infinite darkness was violently replaced by the harsh and physical reality of the Spire of Ascension.

Dante hit the ground. His boots slammed into a grating and rusted iron floor.

The atmosphere was instantly suffocating. It was heavy, damp, and smelled strongly of rotting vegetation.

The air felt thick and actively pressed against his armor.

He stood up and drew the [Crimson Edge].

The red blade provided a dim blood-colored glow that cut through the absolute darkness of the room.

He was standing in a massive and circular iron cage. The walls were lined with rusted pipes leaking toxic-looking green sludge.

The system interface slammed into his vision. The text wasn’t the standard blue. It was a deep and hostile crimson.

[Spire of Ascension: Abyss Difficulty]

[Floor 1: The Crucible]

[Warning: External communication networks disabled. Chat logs disabled.]

[Warning: System revives disabled. True Death is active.]

[Warning: Emergency exit protocols disabled. The only way out is up.]

Dante dismissed the prompts with a flick of his wrist.

He didn’t care about the communication blackout. He didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway.

He opened his pet interface.

"Aura," Dante said.

A flash of bright silver light illuminated the rusted iron cage. The tiny Doom Harbinger materialized next to him.

She immediately let out a low and aggressive chime. Her three starlight tails flicked defensively as she sensed the overwhelming hostility of the environment.

"The system disabled outside help," Dante smiled and looked at his pet. "But you are bound to my soul. You are part of my base kit."

Aura chirped in agreement and pulsed her [Harbinger’s Grace] aura.

The passive twenty-foot radius of starlight cleansed the damp and heavy feeling from the immediate air around Dante.

Dante gripped his broadsword and looked at the massive and heavy iron blast door at the far end of the cage.

"Alright," Dante said. "Let us see what a zero percent survival rate actually looks like."