Hi everyone, I have decided to try a V fic, mostly because holy hell I love V and DMC in general. I still have Grimdark to finish but wanted to write this also. If you have read my other fic Before I Die Alone which was full of things ranging from hellish demons, deities, mystical places, resurrections, torture, lemon, and lots of death where people got killed, got eaten alive etc etc…then you might have an inkling of what to expect in this fic too, although I might leave out the lemons.
I feel DMC5 is darker than the other games and this fic will revolve around after the events of Before I Die Alone, which I could have written a lot better. So whilst I still figure some things out, this fic will be considered AU.
Unfortunately my summary does contain MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR THE GAME: V resurrects Lucy. As he is the manifestation of Vergil's humanity, he retains memory of her and loves her unconditionally.
At the moment, I am just testing the waters with this. May or may not continue, may be a short fic or long fic. I'm not sure, but hope you enjoy it anyway.
Disclaimer: Don't own DMC, it belongs to Capcom
THE NECROMANCER
"There is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream – a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought – a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities."
...
...
...
The doors opened with a loud creak and soft footsteps could be heard entering the hall.
Stopping in mid-prayer, the old woman re-opened her withered eyes and slowly peered over her right shoulder. A young man with sleek black hair and a silver cane in hand stood at the doorway. Dark green eyes scanned the premises, wandering over the numerous empty pews, the large candles and the statue and altar at the far end of the hall, before his gaze landed on the little frail woman at the very centre who was kneeling, wrinkled hands clasped together gently.
"...May I help you?" She enquired, as he lifted his cane and took a small step forwards. It was uncommon for the convent to receive visitors these days.
"Good evening," He replied, with a thin smile. "...Are you Vicar Berelia?"
She nodded. "Yes, I am."
Letting his gaze linger up to the ceiling and over the walls, he stepped further into the hall. "A long time ago, this was a home for orphans...and one day it fell under attack by a demon who attempted to resurrect the Demon King, Mundus. Every inhabitant was killed as a sacrifice." The man continued, walking further and further towards her. The smile never left his lips as he marvelled the interior. It was dark and dank, the only source of light being the white candles lining the walls of all shapes and sizes. She found him strange, although he was not terribly out of the ordinary. One would believe he would be a ruffian of some sort, judging by the sprawling tattoos running down the length of his arms and fingers, but here he was speaking to her in the softest manner. And his outfit...what an interesting choice of clothing indeed. The weather was frightful outside yet here he was thinly dressed in a sleeveless black leather jacket that reached his legs and matching sandals.
Vicar Berelia nodded, a little meekly, as she swerved her gaze to the side and back to him. The man finally reached her after the long walk, settling himself down on the bench closest to her. He exhaled gently under his breath as he settled his gaze to the stone statue before them - a woman with her eyes closed, arms cradling a small infant - and Vicar Berelia nodded again. "Yes, that's right. It was a dreadful tragedy. God bless their souls."
"Yet the only survivor was a young woman. How...peculiar." He murmured. Slipping a hand into the innards of his jacket, he took out a beautiful brown book embroidered with gold edges, and opened it to a page. "To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love. All pray in their distress; and to these virtues of delight. Return their thankfulness... If you'd be so kind...please show me where they're buried, I wish to pay my respects..."
Blinking, Vicar Berelia nodded once more. "Follow me."
She escorted the young man out of the hall and towards the rear, opening the door that would lead them to the backyard where numerous gravestones lay scattered randomly in the area. It was a large expanse, holy ground, and she stayed at the door with umbrella in hand whilst the young man entered the yard, his feet crunching over leaves and grass. The wind howled and the rain poured and she had another umbrella in hand, offering it to him.
"Young man, you'll catch a cold if you don't use this." She said, having to raise her voice an octave or two in order to be heard over the bad weather.
"I am fine, thank you." She heard him mutter as he slowly made his way past a few gravestones with his cane, glancing at each etching, muttering under his breath. "Father Richard Thomas Johnstone...no..."
"Are you looking for someone?" She called out, but she received no response.
The young man ventured further and further until he was at the edge of the graveyard, stopping at one of the stones which she knew belonged to the only survivor of the demon attack of St Orsola. It was the grave that belonged to a young woman, who although survived the attack, had then passed away one or two years later. Shaking her head, Vicar Berelia watched sadly as the young man proceeded to kneel before the gravestone, lowering the cane to lie beside him on the mossy ground. He must know her, she thought, maybe they were family.
Berelia continued to watch as he raised an arm, reaching for it, and let his fingers gently lay on the top of the stone, the rough grit and grain stabbing the bottom of his fingertips. "Lucy..." He muttered under his breath, as he traced his fingers over her etched name. The date of the grave indicated she was only twenty years old when she died. He closed his eyes and rest his forehead over the stone.
"It's getting late." He heard the vicar call to him. "Why don't you stay for the rest of the night?"
...
Vicar Berelia was a kind old woman. She originally lived in The Ostrivira, but was reassigned by the ministry to take up residence in the convent after the original pastor, Father Johnstone, was killed. Although St Orsola's was larger than most churches, she was the only person living there. She had tried to build up a team of caretakers to look after the convent in the past, in order to help clean the rooms, the halls, maintain the garden, tend to the flowers and water the plants...but unfortunately she'd seen many resignations during the years from petrified nuns and fathers and other citizens, namely because of numerous sightings of ghosts and various hauntings. Vicar Berelia didn't see anything or hear anything so she stayed. She stayed and grew old with the building. She stayed and renewed her faith every day and night, so she believed those who didn't stay were not devout enough.
She was cooking soup in the kitchen. The lack of guests and visitors meant she only had modest supplies namely for herself and a few stray cats and dogs that stumbled across her doorstep over the weekends. She also had bread and water, the basics, which she would eat herself. She built a fire and let him sit at the table whilst she went to get his room ready. She'd chosen the room that overlooked the graveyard since he seemed enamoured by it, having stayed a good ten or twenty minutes in relentless downpour and roaring wind kneeling in front of the gravestone earlier on.
"Your dinner." Berelia laid out the bowl of piping warm soup for him and a spoon, whilst she settled in her chair with only the bread and water.
He noticed. "You are very kind, but this..." He murmured, smiling that thin smile of his.
"You are my guest, young man, so I insist. I will be fine."
"...Thank you." He said, "Are you the only one who lives here?"
She nodded. "Do you like ghost stories?"
A dark eyebrow rose.
Chuckling, Berelia said, "At night, you can hear the faint pitter patter of children's footsteps. In the study, a headless figure in black stands at the bookcase. In the graveyard, a pale figure in white wanders, searching for her lost love. And in the third floor dormitory...one can hear disembodied laughter from room three hundred and thirty three when the clock strikes midnight."
He dipped his spoon into the soup, lifting it to his mouth. "Interesting..."
Berelia finished her bread, staring into the fire. "They are all rumours, of course. This convent is quite safe. There used to be many others, but they left very soon." She uttered; he chuckled darkly in response and it fell silent. He finished his meal and she finished her cup of water. Watching him curiously, she added, "What is your name?"
"V."
"V?"
"Yes."
"Is it short for anything?"
Silence befell once again. When she looked at him, waiting for his reply, she noticed he was staring quietly at his empty bowl. However, a fraction of a second later and he looked up and smiled at her, his eyes creasing. "Thank you for the meal. Please excuse me..."
"Ah, yes. Of course."
"Is my room prepared?"
"Yes, it is. Upstairs, first door to the left."
"Thank you." He promptly left with his silver cane in hand.
Berelia was left alone.
...
Once she finished washing up in the kitchen, she left some extra food on the table in case her guest was still hungry during the night but placed a heavy, transparent plastic cover over to prevent the rats trying to get through. Then she locked up the convent's front doors and back door and retired upstairs to her room to get ready for the rest of the night. Her guest should be in his room too, and she hadn't heard a peep from him since so she hoped he was resting well. After taking her bath, she read a few pages from the bible and prayed, then blew out the candle and closed her eyes. She would sleep for what seemed like a long time when she heard a loud clap of thunder and a bright streak of lightning leaked into the room. Despite the thick curtains that would've prevented light from entering, she managed to sense the light behind her closed eyelids and when the window slammed open, the wind howling and the curtains billowing, she opened her eyes and sat up.
"...Oh my...what a terrible storm."
Her clock indicated it was three am. Slipping out of her warm bed, Berelia slid her weak feet into her slippers and shuffled over to the window, grabbing hold of the flapping curtains and trying to reach for the lever only to come to a jarring halt.
V was outside.
He was standing in the graveyard before an unearthed grave. It was the stone he'd stopped at earlier, the one he kneeled down in front of. The grave had been exhumed, the lid of the coffin was uncovered, revealing decayed skeletal remains within.
Shock and anger flowed through her veins at once. "No!" She hissed, "How dare you!" Leaving the window, she grabbed her robe and left her room in a hurry; outside and she could hear the fury of the storm. The rain lashed and pelted the windows and walls, the thunder booming. Berelia arrived at the backdoor and unlocked it, flinging it open. "What are you doing?!" She screamed, as V stood with his back to her.
He was reading from his book and chanting in a language she wasn't familiar with, and he wasn't alone. To his left was a dark beast, a panther. On his right was a large black bird that was flapping its large wings. It had a brilliant blue plumage, and upon sensing her arrival, it turned to her direction.
"Hey V, check it out!" The bird abruptly flew over and stopped in front of her, "Listen up, lady! If I were you, I'd stand waaaay over there."
Berelia's mouth opened in shock. A bird was talking to her! "W-what's going on?!" She shrieked, but she was ignored as the bird promptly returned to V, who had finished reciting and the thunder, the rain and the lightning stopped all at once.
A bright light flashed, emitting from the coffin. A cataclysmic, thunderous sound rocked the atmosphere and an invisible force almost knocked her off her feet if she hadn't been clutching the doorway in fright.
There was a long silence.
She had to shield her eyes and when the light died down, she stared as V made his way towards the coffin and reached inside. The bird and the beast followed, stopping before him. The panther sat on its haunches like a domesticated animal, purring low, tail wagging gently. The bird had gone quiet, using one side of the coffin as a perch. Her eyes widened in disbelief as V lifted up naught a skeleton but a naked female from the coffin and into his arms. Her eyes were closed. A pretty young thing, she had long lashes and high cheekbones. He was smiling the entire time as he stared at her, his eyes straying over her face before he gently placed a hand over her cheek. She did not stir.
Berelia's legs finally gave way under her and she collapsed against the wall in sheer terror.
And as he approached her, carrying the unconscious girl in his arms, he smiled and said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Vicar Berelia."
Stunned, Berelia could do nothing except nod dumbly.