Prologue

The black motionless clouds hung high in the dull sky. Below, the ground was much the same; gray, empty and lifeless. The wind howled eerily along the empty earth, carrying nothing but dust and dirt up into the sky. Who would believe that this place was once called 'Earth'? A planet thriving with life?

Everything had changed after the war had taken place. A war betweenmythical beings with strange and demonic powers. A war that had crumbled humanity into nothing but a speck of dust.

A figure slowly came to a stand atop a hill, its shadow crawling across the dead surface. It was nothing but a silhouette, obscured by the dusts flying passed him, but despite the harsh wind, he stood undeterred.

"I always see this same scenario." His voice scratched at his throat. "After I challenged you, I realized that it would always end here." He slowly opened his eyes and cast his gaze towards the abyssal-like earth.

"You, winning. Me, losing." The tone of his voice was low and sad, as if he had lost something important, and it echoed through the hill. "But...if You could hear me. If You would kindly listen to me one more time…" his voice shifted, despair replacing sadness, and he slowly looked up the sky, "then please... Give me a sign."

The figure stared at the sky sorrowfully, waiting for an answer. Waiting for a sign. And then, as if something had heard him, the wind stopped. The clouds parted, tearing the sky along with them, revealing the universe outside.

Lights coming from the countless stars above shone brightly. Beside them hung the moon, close to the earth.

The figure smiled. He knew he had been heard by none other than Him.

"I…" he paused, completely lost for words from the sudden chill that crawled across his skin. "I... have a wish." He finally said, closing his eyes in surrender.

Then he revealed his wish.

Another Earth

The lights adorning New York Harbor shone brightly against the dark cold waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Ships passing by or preparing to dock, accompanied by loud reverberating sound coming from their horns, created a busy tension throughout the harbor. Everything was normal, at least on this part of the dock.

On the far end, shrouded in darkness, stood a large warehouse. It had been abandoned, its steel walls rusted, and its windows were either dirty or shattered. Mold and dust had spread across the floor due to years of neglect, broken crates were scattered and there was not a soul in sight.

Moonlight glared through a window and illuminated a part of the floor of the warehouse. As the light stretched, a beautiful symbol began to form on the floor. A tree, surrounded by a delicate ring of ancient words. It was a Kabbalah, a famous Judaism-Christian symbol from hundreds of years ago.

The mark emitted a powerful blue glow, until it pulsated, and a sudden gust of wind swept across its surface. It carried the dust that had risen from the ground into colorful whirls. Beneath the dirt in the air, something started to solidify.

With a sudden burst, the symbol disappeared, leaving nothing behind but a human - a man - naked and curled on the floor. His skin was pale, and his hair was jet black and wavy. His eyes were closed.

Only the slow rising of his chest proved that he was alive.

A low groan escape his dried lips. Slowly the man moved his hands and with the movement, his joints popped, sending jolts of pain through his sore muscles.

"Where...am I?" he opened his eyes, vision blurry, adjusting to the darkness of the warehouse with time.

Where is this place...why can't I remember? His entire body ached as he rose and he winced.

So cold...I can't go out without clothes. He let his eyes travel the walls of the place in search and found a dirty, tattered robe lying on the floor nearby him. It took time to reach it and he grunted in agony as his feet felt the cold of each step he took.

"This should be enough." He wrapped the robe around his naked body and felt a little bit of heat spread beneath it. Then his gaze caught on a window in front of him and saw his reflection.

Though the light was dim, noticed the dark tattoos surrounding his golden eyes. This is my face, he thought and then, suddenly, an agonizing pain shot through his body. He screamed and clutched his head, eyes wide, as the drilling pain pierced his temples. Rapid images began to flash through his mind,

He knew what they were. The images were his memory.

This is me…?! Then I-I should be-! Panic rose inside him as he jerked back and hit a crate. He slid down with a grimace, still clutching his head in agony.

"Make it stop!" he screamed, and the pain vanished.

The man heaved and looked up towards the broken ceiling.

"I am Akira Fudo." the man breathed his name as his memory slowly returned. "I am a Devilman. And I should dead." And yet here I am... alive and well. He looked around mystified.

"I shouldn't be alive." He was confused, since he remembered everything clearly. However, he quickly arrived at a conclusion.

This must be another world. But why am I here?

The question clouded Akira's mind.

He approached the door with caution and it creaked as he pushed it open with ease. "At least I still have my strength," he said, allowing a smile to play around his lips.

Akira stumbled into a dark alleyway between two huge warehouses where an array of people had gathered, all of them homeless and poor. A woman caught his eye, dressed in dirty clothes, rocking her screaming baby in her arms, gently. Silent sobbing drew his attention to a man on his left, surrounded by empty liquor bottles. His heart swelled with pity.

"This place is even worse than I thought." Akira sighed and looked away, only to pause, after catching sight of a group of 5 large men. His nose twitched as the heavy smell of alcohol hit it. They're drunk...he realized and was about to move, but one of the men accidentally kicked an old man, sitting against a wall. The old man fell, and the group sneered down at him.

"Oi, lads. Look at this bummer," one of the men said in a thick redneck accent, proceeding to kick the old man in the stomach. "He dirtied my shoes, these are brand new!" another man with a tank top said as he stepped on the man's face, making the old man cry out in pain.

Akira's anger rose. Needless violence had never been something he could take lightly, especially when the victim was helpless. He approached the scene and raised his voice. "Leave him alone you bastards!"

The men halted, turning to look at Akira instead. "Heh, look at that," the tank-top man approached him, followed by his lackeys, towering over him. "We got ourselves a junkie."

"Leave him be...or else…" Akira's eyes darkened, his tone was threatening, but the group only grinned at him.

"Or else what lanky boy?" the tank top man taunted.

Suddenly, at an ungodly speed, Akira raised his right hand and punched the tank top man square in the face.

The man was thrown towards the wall of the warehouse, hitting it with a sickening thud.

"Or else I might kill you." Akira finished with a menacing smile spreading on his lips. The other four men looked at the tank top then back to him, shock.

Akira glanced at them all, his horrifying grin widening. "Come at me."

"Get him!" the first man quickly made a right hand jab at him but Akira grabbed it, twisting it towards the man's back. He then took hold of the man's jaw and with brute force, snapped his neck.

"Son of a bitch!" the third man, wearing a white shirt and black pants, drew a swiss army knife from his pocket. He charged, lashing out with his knife but Akira bent, avoiding the blade. He managed to grasp the man's hand and proceeded to forcefully push the knife towards the man's chest, repeatedly stabbing him.

Blood drenched the man's white shirt.

"Damn it!" At the exclamation, Akira turned to see the fourth man in blue shirt and maong pants, run towards him, left fist raised.

With a grin, Akira removed the knife from the corpse by his side. He then spun to his left and kicked the fourth man in the stomach. The man winced in pain, his back hitting the wall, andin a blur, Akira threw the knife at his head. It struck his forehead before the man could react.

"No…! Please, no!" Akira glanced to his right. The last man, wearing a black shirt and white short sobbed at the horrible sight. "P-Please don't kill me!" he begged and took a step back.

Akira frowned at him.

"Then you have ten seconds to turn yourself in." Akira said as he approached him.

"Y-Yes!" the man nodded hurriedly and pawed at his pockets.

Akira watched as he stopped a breath away from him, You better call the cops because I'm not in the mood for killing anyone else tonight-

"Die!" the man yelled, revealing a revolver and firing five times before Akira could react. He didn't stop pulling the trigger until the chamber was empty. The laugh that burst from his lips was hysterical and relieved, but died instantly, replaced by a look of horror.

Akira's left hand had blocked his entire his face and when he moved it down his face formed into a dark, evil and angry smile.

"Now on the count of three, I'm going to kill you...one,"

The man screamed and took off sprinting, as Akira clenched his fist which began to emit an eerie blue glow.

"Two." Without noticing, his veins lit up.

"Three!" He screamed and raised his right hand, aimed straight at the man, and a violent spark of blue erupted from his palm. It crackled, grew into what looked like a ball of lightning, before it sprung from his hand and shot through the air.

The ball hit the fleeing man in the back, electrocuting him. The charred skin swelled, blood leaked out from his nose and eyes, before he ballooned and exploded. His guts splattered across the asphalt and some of it landed in front of the poor old man.

"I was...not expecting that." Akira stared at his hand in shock, because although it had been bruised by the lightning, it didn't hurt. He'd never had this kind of power before.

He heard a shuffle to his left. The old man was now standing and looking at him with complete horror.

Akira quickly hid his right hand and allowed a small smile to spread on his lips. "It's okay now, gramps." He said in a calm manner.

However, just as the tension began to disappear, a familiar siren of a police car echoed down in his ears.

Great…Akira clicked his tongue as a police car screeched to a halt at the other end of the street. The lights settled on him. When doors opened, two police officers stepped outside.

"This is Patrol one. We're now at the vicinity." the first office on the right said to his walkie talkie on his left shoulder.

He looked straight up ahead and stopped in his tracks when he noticed Akira standing there, clothed in nothing but tattered rags. "Young man…" the officer took a step forward, concerned, but then his partner called.

"Sir…!" the officer glanced at him and saw the second officer pointing at something on the wall, with a worried look on his face. He paused, eyes widening in horror. Blood splatters adorned the wall, lethargically trickling passed the bricks and settling in puddles on the pavement.

Oh boy…Akira sighed, he knew what was going to happen now.

"Put your hands in the air, now!" the two policemen drew their guns, pointing them at him. Akira only took a step back.

Fuck…he cursed mentally to his rotten luck and quickly glanced around. I wouldn't let these guys catch me…if they did, he wouldn't be captured. At least that was his plan. Because if he was captured now, things would get ugly for him once they discovered that he wasn't a normal human.

"Up there, huh…" As he raised his hands, he noticed the roof above him. He could jump that height with his strength. "Yeah I can-"

Akira was about to jump but then suddenly pain erupted in his brain. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled and weakened.

No, I must've used too much power-! He grunted as his head pulsed. He wanted to escape, to jump towards the roof, but he couldn't.

"Boy…whatever you have…" Akira glanced to his left, the old man was there. He looked at him with concern, "…use your powers wisely."

Akira didn't hear what he said over the violent pulsing in his head, but instead read his lips. He wanted to smile and thanked him for his words, but the throbbing only worsened.

Eventually, before he could make another move, Akira collapsed, his face smashing into the harsh asphalt. Only a weak groan left his lips.

I'll get captured. Shit! He cursed, dismayed, and watched as the first policeman approached him, gun still drawn. "O—officer…" he attempted. He'd planned on at least trying to talk him out of arresting him, but he choked on the words.

Then dark spots took over his vision and his eyes closed.

Beta-read by: DeadThingsStayDead

Whoa! I never thought I would write a fanfic of Devilman Crybaby after watching its anime and to add on, with ROTG crossover. My God, I must b going mad with my imagination.

Anyways...Welcome guys to my new Fanfic. I hope you will like it! This time I will make sure that everything would be fast pacing!

Disclaimer : I do not own any of these characters. :)