Moments before the lightning struck the ice castle, deep within the Ninth Circle, an extraordinary event unfolded. An extremely beautiful woman, her radiant presence like a beacon of purity in the desolation of Hell, was in labor. Her long, pitch-black hair cascaded around her like a veil of midnight, and her glowing, porcelain skin seemed to reject the infernal darkness surrounding her.

She lay on a bed of frost within the grand ice castle, her breaths shallow and labored. Around her, a dozen maids, their faces etched with concern, attended to her every need. Though they were denizens of Hell, their devotion to her was absolute, for this was no ordinary woman.

Her very presence was a contradiction to the hellish domain—a Heavenly being whose essence clashed with the very fabric of the underworld. The cold around her was not biting; instead, it carried a serene stillness, as if bowing to her grace.

Her name was Celestia, a being of unparalleled beauty and mystery. Once a cherished angel of Heaven, her descent into Hell was shrouded in enigma. Whispers among the infernal court suggested she was a rebel against the celestial order, though others believed her presence was a curse—a cosmic anomaly fated to disrupt the delicate balance of realms.

As the maids tended to her, a foreboding chill ran through the castle. The skies above darkened further, and a pressure unlike any other began to weigh upon the Ninth Circle. Celestia clutched her abdomen, her voice breaking in a soft but urgent cry.

“It’s coming…” she whispered, her melodic voice trembling with both fear and resolve.

The maids exchanged worried glances, their infernal instincts screaming at them to flee. But they could not abandon her. Something immense was about to be born—a force that Heaven, Hell, and Earth would tremble to behold.

Then it happened. A blinding flash of lightning, imbued with a power that defied comprehension, tore through the skies and struck the ice castle. The ground quaked violently, and the shockwave sent ice and stone flying in every direction.

For a brief moment, all sound ceased. Time seemed to stand still as an overwhelming, otherworldly presence filled the air. Celestia’s cries mingled with the roar of the lightning, and then, with a final, earth-shattering rumble, the castle fell silent.

From the wreckage, a faint yet powerful cry echoed—a sound that sent ripples through the very fabric of existence. The maids gasped, their eyes widening in awe and terror.

The child had been born.

This was no ordinary infant, but a being whose presence radiated an aura that dwarfed both gods and demons. Celestia, weak but smiling, held the child close to her chest. She whispered softly, her voice barely audible:

“You will be... the one who reshapes this broken universe.”

Here’s an addition that builds on the maid's reactions, emphasizing the contrast between the baby’s innocent appearance and the immense power it holds:

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As the maids gathered around the newborn, their eyes widened in awe, utterly mesmerized by the infant's serene beauty. Its soft, innocent features—a face untouched by the horrors of Hell, delicate as porcelain—radiated an undeniable cuteness. They couldn’t help but marvel at how such a tiny, fragile being could bring a sense of peace even in this desolate and unrelenting domain.

But then, the air around them shifted. A heavy pressure, like an invisible weight pressing down on the castle, filled the room. The maids, still kneeling in awe, began to feel an unease creeping into their bones. The child, seemingly unaware of the world around it, gazed up with eyes that shone with an unnatural glow. It was as if the innocent gaze of a baby was peering directly into the soul of every creature around it.

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A sudden chill gripped the maids, their hands trembling as they reached out to touch the baby’s skin. The coldness was unlike anything they had ever felt—crystal-clear, absolute, and bone-deep. It wasn’t the cold of ice or frost; it was something far older, an icy void that seemed to suck the warmth from their very existence.

One of the maids, her face frozen in shock, backed away slowly, her breath caught in her throat. “This... this child...” she whispered, her voice quivering, “its power… it’s too much.”

Another maid, her eyes wide with terror, slowly stood. “What... what is this?” she stammered. “I can feel it. The overwhelming weight of its power—it’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.”

The pressure in the room intensified, and even the ice around them seemed to crack under the strain. The once peaceful atmosphere shattered as the maids realized what they were witnessing—this was no ordinary child.

A pulse of energy surged from the infant, radiating outward in waves. The maids felt their bodies seize up as if their very life force was being drawn into the infant’s gaze. Their minds were assaulted by flashes of visions—terrifying images of destruction, unimaginable forces colliding, and the very fabric of reality bending and warping.

The baby’s power was not just immense; it was uncontainable. It was as though the child was a vessel for forces that could break worlds, reshape destinies, and challenge the very laws of nature.

Celestia, still weak, held the baby tighter, her expression filled with both love and sadness. She had known this day would come—the birth of a being so powerful that it would shift the very foundation of all existence. Yet, even she could not predict the full scope of the power she had brought into the world.

“This child…” one of the maids gasped, her voice trembling. “It’s... it’s an X-rank being, isn’t it? Even greater than any being we’ve known.”

Celestia’s eyes glimmered with a sad, knowing smile. “Yes,” she whispered, “an X-rank. And perhaps, even more. This child... will be the one to either destroy everything we know or recreate it entirely.”

The maids, now frozen in place, could no longer deny the overwhelming truth: the child was no mere innocent being. It was a force of nature, a cosmic anomaly that would either bring salvation or annihilation to Heaven, Hell, and Earth alike.

Here’s the continuation, incorporating Celestia naming the baby Dante:

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Celestia, still cradling the child in her trembling arms, looked down at him with a mixture of love, awe, and sorrow. The maids, frozen in fear and reverence, dared not speak as the weight of the infant’s power continued to press down on them.

Despite the overwhelming aura radiating from the baby, his small face remained serene, his eyes half-lidded as if unaware of the chaos his mere presence caused. Celestia’s fingers gently brushed over his cheek, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to lift, replaced by a fleeting sense of calm.

“Dante,” Celestia whispered, her voice soft yet resolute. The name echoed through the chamber, its sound imbued with an almost divine authority.

The maids exchanged glances, the name resonating within them as if it carried an inherent significance. Celestia continued, her voice breaking with emotion, “Your name is Dante. The one who will walk between the realms, the bridge between Heaven, Hell, and Earth.”

As she spoke, a faint glow enveloped Dante, his power momentarily receding as if recognizing the name given to him. The oppressive weight in the air lightened, and the maids found themselves able to breathe again, though the memory of his power remained etched in their minds.

One of the braver maids, still trembling, knelt beside Celestia and murmured, “Lady Celestia, why... why name him so? Does it not mean ‘enduring’? What is it that this child is meant to endure?”

Celestia’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears, did not leave Dante’s peaceful face. “Because,” she replied softly, “he will endure what no being in existence ever has. He will endure the weight of power that even the gods and demons fear. He will endure the burden of reshaping the fate of all realms.”

The maids fell silent, their reverence deepening. They understood now that this child, Dante, was no ordinary being. He was a harbinger of change—a force so great that even his name would echo through the annals of history, whispered in awe and fear alike.

As the castle settled into an uneasy quiet, Celestia held Dante closer, her lips brushing his forehead. “Dante,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible, “you are my greatest gift to this broken universe... and its greatest challenge.”