Locked in a clash of weapons with the third enforcer, Dante could sense Eunoe and Lethe flanking him from either side. 

Lethe swung out her whip, uncoiling like a snake about to strike, the thorny edge sailing toward Dante’s head. With a grunt, Dante kicked away the enforcer and parried Lethe's whip strike with a two-handed upward slash, the blade leaving a trail of shimmering moonlight in its wake. In the same motion, he spun, bringing his sword down in a one-handed swing that forced Eunoe to retreat. Dante’s vampiric strength allowed him to maneuver his greatsword, known as the Moonblade, as easily with one hand as with two.  

As the third enforcer recovered, Lethe's whip lashed out again, a viper of shadow and spite. Dante attempted to deflect the strike, but he had miscalculated the distance, and the whip wrapped around his arm. The barbs bit deep into his flesh, and he hissed as pain lanced through him. But he now had Lethe trapped. He drew his arm in closer, holding steady against her pull as he released his grip on his sword, catching it in his free hand. 

Dante's crimson eyes darted around the ruined cathedral. The floor was littered with shards of stained glass, remnants of the windows shattered in preparation for this very confrontation. A plan formed in his mind, but it would only work under certain circumstances. 

Eunoe saw her opening and lunged forward, her blade aimed for Dante's heart. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the glint of cold steel racing towards his chest. Dante attempted to duck, but encumbered by the whip and Eunoe's speed, he couldn't move fast enough. The sword pierced his shoulder, sliding through flesh and bone, heat radiating from burning nerves.

Eunoe's triumphant grin faltered as she realized her weapon was lodged in Dante's shoulder, momentum carrying her closer than she'd intended. Dante let out a fierce growl, and he slammed his forehead into Eunoe's face.

The impact was thunderous, a resounding crunch as her nose broke. Eunoe stumbled backward, her grip on the sword tightening as she instinctively pulled it free. Blood—both his and hers—splattered across the fragments of glass at their feet. 

Lethe's whip still coiled around his arm, its barbs digging deeper with every movement. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Dante yanked his arm back with all his vampiric might.

The sudden, tremendous force caught Lethe off guard. She flew forward, her feet leaving the ground as she hurtled towards Dante. He pivoted, using Lethe's own momentum to send her crashing into the third enforcer who had been circling for an opening.

The two collided with a thud, tumbling across the glass-strewn floor in a tangle of limbs. With a quick motion, Dante brought his blade down upon the thorned whip around his arm. In an instant, the whip's links separated, its arcane energy dissipating like mist in sunlight. With its flow disrupted, the weapon immediately disintegrated, falling to the floor in a rain of dust. 

Dante stood there, wounded but unbowed, his Moonblade in one hand while his other arm hung limp, blood dripping from where the whip had torn into his flesh. 

He faced down the enforcers as they regained their bearings. 

Eunoe wiped blood from her face, her eyes burning with hatred as she gripped her sword tighter. Lethe and the third enforcer untangled themselves, rising to their feet, clearly ready to continue the fight. 

“No chance I can walk away now, right?” Dante asked. “We could call this a draw and put this all behind us.” 

“No chance,” Lethe repeated, smiling wide. 

“Nessus, what are your thoughts? I will make my decision based on yours,” Eunoe said noncommittally. 

“No,” replied the third enforcer, his face hidden in shadow. 

Eunoe began, “You heard it from the man himself, Dante. The answer is—” 

“So be it,” Dante interrupted, pointing at Nessus. “You die first. Your inaction has been in the back of mind for a couple of centuries, and no matter how hard I try, I can neither forgive nor forget.” 

Taking no further insult, the enforcers launched a coordinated attack, their forms blurring from their inhuman speed. Lethe's whip cracked through the air, aiming for his throat. In the same instant that he ducked beneath the deadly lash, Dante called upon his power. As he rolled to avoid Eunoe's slashing blade,  the glass that carpeted the cathedral floor, from tiny slivers to fist-sized chunks, rose into the air in his wake.

Dante sprang to his feet, narrowly avoiding a swing of Nessus’s flaming mace. Mid-dodge, he flicked his wrist, sending the storm of glass surging forward. The shards, their edges glinting in the firelight, moved at blistering speed. Nessus, committed to his attack and unable to change course, had no time to evade.

The glass struck with devastating force. Thousands of razor-sharp edges tore into the enforcer's flesh, shredding through cloth, skin, and muscle with little effort. The larger pieces punched through his body, coming out the other side and breaking apart against the stone walls. Blood sprayed in a fine mist, hanging in the air like a crimson fog.

The enforcer's scream of agony was cut short as shards ripped through his throat. His eyes, wide with shock and pain, met Dante's for a brief moment before a sizable chunk of glass buried itself in his left eye socket.

The brutal assault lasted only seconds, but when it was over, the enforcer was barely recognizable. He stood for a moment, swaying, his body a pincushion of colorful glass. His mace slipped from unfurling fingers, clattering to the ground. It was then that the air displaced as Dante lunged forward, vanishing from his initial position and appearing in front of Nessus with his sword buried in the vampire’s chest. The enforcer’s skin cracked like stone, and he fell apart into chunks of crumbling ash. 

The other two enforcers did not react to their companion’s demise, instead redoubling their efforts to slay Dante. Lethe produced a dagger from her belt and moved with Eunoe to close the gap between them. 

“Under moon’s light, we guard the cosmic veil,” Dante said in a firm voice. 

This was the pledge that all Lunar vampires took before they took on the mantle of an enforcer. Hearing those words, his opponents were momentarily thrown off, which was more than enough for Dante. 

In an instant, he was upon Lethe. His arm moved faster than the eye could track, his sword slicing through the air with impossible speed. There was no resistance as the blade passed through his opponent’s neck. For a fraction of a second, nothing seemed to happen. Then, as if time suddenly caught up, Lethe's head slid cleanly off her shoulders, landing with a soft thud. Her body remained upright for a moment longer before collapsing, the arterial spray coating the floor in spurts. 

Eunoe screamed in terror, this death breaking her composure. She dashed forward, several pieces of glass launching into the air with her burst of immense speed. 

In the space between heartbeats, the Moonblade struck twice. The first cut severed Eunoe's outstretched arm at the shoulder. The limb flew off, leaking blood in a wide arc, fingers still twitching as it hit the ground. The second strike, a horizontal slash, passed through her neck with the same ease as it had Lethe's.

Eunoe's charge carried her lifeless body past Dante. Her head, separated from her neck, hung in the air for a moment before gravity took hold. As it fell, Dante caught a glimpse of her face, frozen in an expression of surprise and disbelief, eyes rolling back as the last spark of life faded.

Suddenly, a blinding flash of crimson light erupted from the corner of Dante's vision. Before he could react, an intense, searing pain exploded in his chest. The force of the impact lifted him off his feet, hurling him backward through the air.

Dante slammed against the far wall, the breath driven from his lungs. As he slid to the ground, his mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. His eyes dropped to his chest, widening in shock at the sight of a gaping, smoldering hole just below his sternum.

With the last of his strength, Dante's gaze drifted across the room, seeking the source of this unexpected assault. There, amidst the carnage, lay Eunoe's severed hand. The final wisps of a blood-red glow faded from its palm, the only hint of the devastating power it had unleashed just seconds before. 

Realization dawned in Dante's eyes, a flicker of grim appreciation for Eunoe’s defiant use of blood magic. As the gravity of his wound set in, his eyelids grew heavy. The Porcelain Prince's head lolled to the side, his body going limp as his breaths slowed. 

Soon, the room fell silent, save for the soft patter of blood dripping onto stone. It was not the sort of death he had been craving, but it was death nonetheless.