For a split second, Dante didn't move.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because his body refused to accept what he had just heard.
That voice
It wasn't similar.
It wasn't close.
It was exact.
Same tone. Same cadence. Same control.
"Step aside."
Again.
Calm.
Certain.
Like it had every right to be there.
Camille's breath caught behind him. "Dante…"
He didn't respond.
His eyes were locked on the shape in front of him as it began to stabilize distortion folding inward, form pulling together, features sharpening out of something that shouldn't have had a face.
And then
It did.
Him.
Not a copy.
Not a projection.
Not even a reflection.
A version.
Standing a few feet away, looking at him with the same stillness he knew too well.
The same precision.
The same awareness.
The only difference
Was the absence of hesitation.
The girl's voice crackled faintly through the connection. "Dante what's happening? Your signal just split"
