Death of Dante's Inferno: Canto I - Resentful Dark
Time is based on Medieval times, where humanity had still war over their heads, and kept on fighting for their freedom, against the invading countries. Our hero, won't be landing his hand for his own country, but follow his own desires of love, knowledge, and thirst of power. Our hero will start his journey on the Land of Iron, but making his way out to find what he desires the most.
Canto I"Resentful Dark...It's walking towards me...thy vision has affected me... I need to get up...who is this foe? Is he friend? Such feelings...his scythe is screaming...his heart doesn't beat...no eyes to seek my future...Death, enlighten me!"Dante waking up from a long night dream."Who are you?"Asks away as his mother rushed in to take care of her little handsome boy called, Dante.
A young boy with a clear, a solitude mind. His father always talked about the tales of Death with a beating chest. His heart with full of passion, his scythe serves being justice, his cross provides mercy for the uttermost souls. My father, a man around his thirties, his skin as white as the outside snow, tall always standing strong who's about to go in battle, wide shoulders to serve him, with a couregous heart of a lucky father. He always had pinch of smile on his face when he saw me begging to go train with him in the mountains of Land of Iron. I think that made him mostly proud of himself, but most of all, of me. My father was a dreamer, but not that kind of a dreamer. He was something different. He's stories seemed so real, my imagination were like a train what never stopped until, it's teller had vetoed. Every one of his sentences, like it happened before. His words magically came to actions, but reality in my mind. His stories, Death always the hero has moved me. I question my father in every one of his stories. Why is this man had done good deeds, when his powers being told as wrong? He always had an answer to fill my clear, but virgin mind:"Death is not a person to hate, but to serve justice."He described him with a fearless heart, merciless as he stood beyond legendary foes, how he served punishment with his “Punisher”, and how he fell in love. My father always called this cross as the “Judge” and his scythe as “Divine Punisher”, and his heart ”Eternity”. Judge served as mercy who shall have another chance for life. But this heart eventually extinguished its flame.
My mother always told me that I shouldn't believe such tails, because he never existed, myself, I was not sure. The reason why my mother had run away with him, is because he had a heart what no man had ever possessed. She always tried her best to keep the house in order, to have food on the table, and be beautiful for my father's eyes, for her own desire. I was such a foolish boy, that I believed every one of my father's stories, starting from love to Death. When my father gave me night lecture, he referred to Death as a Hero, a Messiah, the balance of the Worlds."We need a man with such powers, where is He?"I asked myself from the dreams I have taken.
My father has always despite people who did not believe his fairy tails, but after all, they loved him to death. My father always tried to be his best, as what he called it, being Death. Little Dante had always the urge to train with his father in the samurai corridor, with other mates. The little pouch of courage has achieved to be above of his father's belief on the stance. Every morning, he walked me to his little made of tile office, outside of the training field, giving me orders of seek the missing samurais out from the group. I stood with guys who had been battling for all their life, who seek almost victory in every fight. Inside an almost a marble heart, with a catchy phrase of love. I became like that. I became a difficult obstacle to beat, a fighter like never be, but a virgin heart begging quietly.
My father had always the tendency to have me looking after his office, looking after his precious, place of future. Before every one if his distant trips, he asked me never to seek the key to open his mysterious dungeon, full of things I never would of imagined. I said goodbye to my father, gave phrases of safety and victory. When I had taken my way back to my father's office, I had seen the dungeon wasn't locked. I had seen blood and fear, but I never seen anything like this. Like gold sparkled out from the dungeon, more like flames burned inside the catacombs.“Did my father had put such path for me?"I stepped on the dusty layers of ancient rocks, saw the thirst for knowledge, the eager for enlightenment forging inside me. I walked with no words filling my tongue. The stance at the end of the tunnel, hold a book of no ordinary comprehension could understand. When I saw the book, the words started to unravel before my eyes, making itself comprehendable."What is this madness?”I saw the book relieving itself: “The Chosen One”.