Everything fell apart so fast. He didn't have time to think, his beliefs in the Order of the Swords challenged. The uncertainty drove him mad.
In the end, his undying faith was what propelled him to the path that led to death's door.
The path to stay and serve Sanctus like the loyal obedient dog he was, closed his ears from the screams of the innocents as they were slaughtered; brush aside the instincts that yelled at him to run run get away from here because, how could he? How could he turn his back from something he had held on to for so long? 'Ascended' into an angel he may have, Credo was still a human being who dreams of a perfect world, as were the believers of the Order. All reason was pushed aside for that idealistic cause of purging the world free from demons. A cause that was righteous and just in itself, turned corrupted by a mad man whose eyes were veiled by sweet temptations of power. Credo couldn't believe it. He refused to!
However, the cold hard truth stood tall and unwavering, Credo at last acknowledged too late when it struck him with a blade, shattering his faith; shattering everything he had believed in all these years and held with pride. He was more than a damnable fool. Because of this- this blind devotion to a lie that Kyrie- Nero...!
Credo's eyes clamped shut, teeth gritted. Searing pain from his abdomen spread like wildfire. Tears burned behind his eyelids, threatening to flow.
Kyrie... Dear, dear Kyrie, how often he had told her how precious she was to him? Had he ever told her anything at all? Damn it, how could he let it happen- how could he failed to protect his own little sister? And Nero... God, how much he wanted to say he was sorry, how much he wanted to say so many things- that he did looked upon Nero as part of the family, a brother, friend and so much more than that, and not as a stranger nor a demon; that his life had changed in more ways than one because of him. He had brought a shine in Kyrie's eyes, brought life to what had once been the routine and the mundane and Credo couldn't be any more grateful for that. Things may turned sour between them sometimes, but never so bitter that it tore them apart.
Credo tried to block out the visage of betrayal and hurt that was hidden, yet so clearly painted across Nero's face, the portrait painfully vivid in his mind.
All the times chances were given to him to tell them how much they meant him... gone. Wasted.
He struggled to stand, much less able to sit up. The strenuous effort had him coughing up blood. Alerted of his presence, the son of Sparda approached him with questions. Credo answered them all as best as he could in his condition. It did not lighten the weight of regret hung heavily on his heart, however it was the very least he could do- the only thing he could do.
Credo was up on his feet at last and it hurts. He braced himself against the boulder behind him as a wave of vertigo washed over him. Everything hurts so bad...
"Please... honour one last request," he rasped. "Save them..." He clutched a hand on Dante's shoulder, darkness creeping in the edges of his sight. "Kyrie, and... Nero..." He tightened his grip, sucking in a last breath. "And tell them, I..."
They had to know- Nero had to know. He might not believe it, might not forgive him, might wave it away like it was nothing. It didn't matter; Credo understood that. As long Nero knew how he truly felt for him, it didn't matter at all...
"Bullshit."
"Those are his last words for you. Take it or leave it," said Dante, shrugging, though he was a little taken aback; he hadn't expected it to be a caustic response at all.
Inside the Saviour, Nero crossed his arms, gaze casted down. "He tried to kill me," he said sharply. "Didn't even try to hold back or anything. How can you expect me to believe it?"
Dante shrugged again. "Whatever's been goin' on with you two is not my problem." The half-demon sensed that the kid hadn't moved from his spot yet. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, frowning. The kid's sadness was almost tangible, an impressive feat considering where Dante currently stood. They honestly don't have time for this, however Dante found that he couldn't just ignore a... well, the kid may not be a weeping beautiful lady, and he doubted the kid was the type to cry anyway but that's not the case. The case was that the kid sure sounded like he's in a serious need of comfort right now, although 'consoling' wasn't up in Dante's long list of expertise.
"But, ah..." he tried. "...He seems like a real honest guy from what I get, probably all torn up from the inside when he did what he did. Men of duty have this strange tendency to do that, ya know? Besides; why would he go through the trouble of making me his messenger if he doesn't really care?" Well, that sucked, but it was all the Dante could think of. For some strange reason he thought of Vergil as he said it, a thought which he quickly shook off. When he received no reply and Dante could still feel Nero's presence, he said: "Hey c'mon, kid. For now you gotta go on and bust that old man's ass and save your girl! You can be angry and curse his name all you want when everything's settled, alright?"
"Yeah..." Nero said quietly, knowing that Dante couldn't hear him as it was more to himself than anything else. His features had softened to a look of melancholy from the start of Dante's speech; his legs simply refused to move. He furiously rubbed his eyes on the back of his human hand. The teen was still blinking back tears as he strode on further into the dark depths of the Saviour.
A/N: "Me paenitet" roughly means "I regret" or "I am sorry" in Latin, but I think the latter is the closest translation. Why Latin? Because... Icouldn'tthinkupofabettertitleI CAN. Gratuitous Latin is gratuitous!
First dip into the world of DMC. Hope it turned out okay.
Enjoy~!
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