Author's Note:
The only thing I own here is the idea and the original character that may appear. Devil May Cry is CAPCOM's copyrighted product and creation, I only have the strength to conjure up this humorous thing. Btw, any similarity to any real life character is unintended and is purely coincidental.
The Devils of Misadventure
Prologue
After the battle in Temen-ni-gru, Dante and I had a small time blessed upon us.
In fact, it was too small a time.
I hadn't had the chance to tell him that in spite of the annoyance caused, I wish to apologise that he had been living and believing in a lie. Dante had lived his whole life believing that I was dead when I was as healthy as horse, travelling around the world. Dante had been hunting demons and devils alike, ever since our mother's death and also, after my supposed death. I can't say that I'm unhappy that he had sacrificed his time for his revenge. Honestly, I feel somewhat proud that he's actually doing something for us.
Our ideals and thoughts may ultimately defer, but when the end result outshine our very own biases, it sure changes my opinion… Alas, but little!
I could see that he was happy to see me alive, even though I came with an intention he knew not as brotherly. I hate to admit that our family is all but dysfunctional. Yet, Dante managed to live beyond all of expectations, unaffected by our very weaknesses. I killed him nearly twice since this incident occurred. Yet, Dante only wanted to save me as I fell into the chasms of Hell.
I needed not to question why, for I knew it was because he loved me.
It seemed all the more hurtful for me to slash his hand as he reached out for me.
But he mustn't love me—not anymore. I was unworthy to be called his brother, his twin. I hate to live with the fact that he will still look up to me, for I don't want any of that. He mustn't remember me as his brother anymore. He must discontinue to believe that I was fixable and able to return as the same Vergil he knew before our mother died. In fact, he must take it as though I had died. I would prefer that very much. After all, I had long believed the very Vergil he knew had died when our mother passed. I was no longer the same.
I'm sorry, Dante. I couldn't keep up with your expectations and beliefs. But it doesn't mean you must stop whatever it is you're doing.
It just means that we're no longer related. We shouldn't be.
Not any longer.