[Espy]

And the darkness retreated. Perhaps not enough to stimulate the normal eye, but for Dante, Sin's shimmering soap-film-like glow was now visible, as was the redness of the Hounds, weaving itself into and out of the surface of their flesh like the streams of a solar flare.

At the same time, the scalding heat presented itself fully, and nearly bit through his lip. The decision to leap sideways had perhaps saved his life, but the others...

Kadia's green, darker than his own, sprayed out, a sharp contrast against the snaking red. Blood. Dante tumbled through the air, changing course as his boots his the solid ground. Glancing back he noticed a red string, frayed but not yet cut through, and the whipblade shot out.

Did I...Did that work? But there was no time to check, and Dante whirled around, the sharp segments of the blade burying themselves into the Hound. It dropped the green form.

...I might have just become its next meal, and even as he thought this, even as his sword came whirling back to him, the Hound seemed staggered back, Dante's bullets catching it in its lower jaw. Then, out of nowhere, its tail thudded into his chest and he flew into the wall, the lights of auras flickering.

He felt bile rising up, and mentally forced himself to not be sick, his breaths coming in short gulps. We can't hold this for much longer. Why had they been sent here to die? What did the Celetrine think they would have accomplished?

Those fuckers.

The rage-produced adrenaline shot through his system, and finally, his vision grew sharper.

And he noticed...an ivory pinprick? No, it grew...definitely not just a pinprick. The aura took almost a crystalline form, yet pulsated--

And then it was gone, masked by the fiery Hellhound hide. But it had been there.

Our objective. The crown. He clambered to his feet, took a deep breath, and ran, foregoing any sort of attack on the Hounds, on Sin, sliding under their bellies.

Like moth to flame, perhaps?