Disclaimer: Any half-witted lemur knows that Devil May Cry is not owned by anyone on this site.

AN: Hoy hoy, here we have another fic that has been guest written by Blackmoon. We both hope you enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed Diabolus Irae. If you haven't read Diabolus Irae yet, you should. It's not technically the prequel, but it's pretty close.

Chapter One: Prologue: Prelude to the Black Abyss

It was deathly quiet in the library. Most of the staff had left hours ago, and there was little light, save for a ceiling light or two. A slim man with silvery hair, clad in a long blue coat, stood alone, silently flicking through an aging volume of forgotten lore. The silence was broken by the footsteps of another man on the old stone floor. The newcomer- this one bald, and wearing a black suit- spoke out to the first: "So, you're looking for the book of ancient legends."

The white-haired man slowly looked up from the book. The second man continued, "...the tale of the demon warrior, Sparda." The first threw the book closed with a "fwap", and placing it back on the shelf, said in a calm, chilling voice, "That's not what I'm looking for. Leave me."

However, the man in the black suit continued to come closer. As he came into the light, it became clear that he was no ordinary librarian- his eyes were of two different colors, one red and the other blue, and there was a great disfiguring mark on the side of his face. "Then what are you looking for?" he queried. "A demon that impregnates a woman, who then bears twin sons... that's the story, isn't it?"

There was a flash as the first man's hand went to the katana at his belt, and in a split second, had brought the point just short of the second man's head. He did not look up, but spoke ominously, "Leave me. I won't tell you a third time." Still, the man did not leave.

"People... inherently fear evil," he said, running his hand across the razor edge of the sword. "However..." The sword now cut into his thumb, and though drops of his blood splattered across the floor, he showed no pain, and continued speaking. "Occasionally... a person may become seduced by evil." The first man gazed at him with piercing blue eyes, then turned to face the second as he removed the blood from his sword and sheathed it. "What are you getting at?"

"Share with me..." The man in the black suit grabbed a book from the shelf, its red cover fading with age; he clutched it in his hand, close to his heart, as though it were his most prized possession. "...the story of Sparda." The first man stared at him a second, then turned and left; the second grinned maliciously, and followed after.

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Some time later, the two stood at the steps to a colossal tower that had been hidden underground eons ago, by the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. The black-suited man- Arkham- said to the other, "The activation method is as I described before. It should be a simple matter for you. I shall go to his place- I believe that I know where the item we seek is located." With that, he turned and left. "You should dispose of any obstacles quickly." The man in the blue coat- Vergil- turned around to look for his temporary ally, but he was already gone.

Instead, the ground was rippling like water. Two demons, stark white with blood-red markings and burning scythes- in the Demon World, they were known as Abysses- rose from the ground, speaking something in an unholy tongue. They began to approach, and more appeared from behind, on the steps. All at once, they leapt for Vergil, who stood, calmly observing the whole time.

Then, he became a blur of motion. With the handle of his sword, he deflected the scythe of one to his right, turned around, blocked another, and drew his blade. In an instant, an Abyss demon that had leapt for Vergil was sliced in half in midair, spraying blood across the field. Vergil switched his grip, and smashed in the face of an Abyss to his left with the handle of his sword, before righting the blade and cutting three more of his foes in twain.

As they collapsed, gushing blood into the air, Vergil calmly sheathed his sword. More devils rose from the ground, all around him, encircling him. One to his right brought its scythe down for a killing blow, but to no avail. Vergil merely stepped backward, knocked it back with his sheath, and drew his blade. He turned again and caught one Abyss by the feet with the sheath, sending it turning end-over-end; he sliced it in half, and it hit the ground, lifeless.

Another Abyss, held in shock by the death of its comrades, held the scythe up in a pitiful block; Vergil showed no mercy, cutting through first the scythe, and then the wielder, slowly being consumed by his own bloodlust. Not a single foe could land a blow on them- he sent them wheeling through the air, cleaving them in half, sometimes even slaying two with one blow. The sky seemed to rain blood, matting down his hair, and yet more demons arrived on the battlefield.

Vergil slowly began to scream, a bone-chilling, growling battle cry. It rose to a near shout as he dashed through the onslaught of foes, cleaving a swath of destruction in his path, each sword strike effortlessly annihilating the devils. Once they had all collapsed, dead, at his feet, he spun the blood from his favored blade, Yamato, and placed it back in its sheath.

"Hm," he muttered, almost as if to scoff at his opponents. He reached up and wiped the blood out of his hair, putting it back in a swept-back style like he usually kept it, and walked slowly up the steps to the tower. When he reached the top, he stopped before the great door, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.

"It begins," he said to himself, and entered.