Dante recovered from the scenes he had just witnessed; he gazed deeply into the starry sky ahead, immersed in thoughts.
A cruel god manipulated an entire event only to fail in the end and antagonize a woman who just wanted to be free.
He still felt his mother holding him from behind, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her anymore. His thoughts began to gnaw at his mind; he knew it wasn't normal for a woman to harbor so much hatred within her. Something really must have happened for it to lead to such an event.
Dante then set aside all the anger he was feeling and turned to a Valentina surrounded by corpses. He released his real mother's arms and approached the remnant of her memories, facing her.
The real Valentina observed him; her eyes were teary, but she didn't want to cry—she needed to be strong. She was the strongest.
Dante stood face-to-face with the woman kneeling, bathed in the blood of countless races, even a god. She turned her face and looked at the young man before her.
"You've been through a lot," Dante said in a somber tone as he looked at Gungnir lying on the ground.
Dante stooped and picked it up in his hand. It was the first time he held Gungnir. It wasn't the real one, but he could feel its power. "Thank you, little Spear. Keep protecting the most important woman in my world." He said this, and the Spear gently vibrated, as if agreeing with what he requested.
Despite knowing he couldn't love only her...
When they exited the mental world, he was greeted with an even more starry night than before, a full moon, and a dense forest illuminated by fireflies and plants he had never noticed.
A breathtaking landscape left him completely speechless. Valentina was the same; she only began to enjoy life's pleasures after meeting and raising Dante. She was a warrior obsessed with battle, but now she understood that moments like these were good. When she saw the moon's position, she smiled and looked at Dante.
"Happy birthday, my love," she said with a gentle smile on her face, much gentler than the last few times.
Valentina felt relief after Dante accepted her story; she feared reality would make him afraid of her, but it only deepened their bonds.
Dante smiled, thinking that it was almost time for him to enter the Royal Academy; he had just turned twelve.
Dante looked at the horizon, where he could see their home. He then let go of his reverie and held Valentina's hand, pulling her closer.
"Let's go home," he said as he walked with the red-haired woman by his side.