Prologue: Snowfall

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep…."

-Excerpt from The Bible, King James Version, Genesis Part 1: Verses 1 and 2

Cold.

I feel…cold.

It cuts my face.

It freezes my skin.

It shatters my soul.

They say Hell is a place filled with infernos and suffering.

They never say anything about Limbo.

Limbo...is much worse.

Limbo. The bridge between Heaven and Hell. People call it Purgatory.

For me…Hell.

For I wasted five years in Limbo, suffering for my sins.

I still suffer today.

This….curse they call a Nephilim.

A demon.

A living abomination of greed and sin.

All because of my culmination of hatred and revenge.

Who am I?

It was a blustering, freezing winter, as the snowstorm began to dance wildly in the frigid air of Limbo. Snowflakes danced their intricate ballet as the pirouetted gracefully before silently falling to the snow covered ground below. Flake after flake saturated the winter air, as the cold void in Limbo lingered on without end. The wind was howling; the snow was falling; the storm was growing. Endless calamity gripped this unspeakable place where the land lay dead and lifeless, hosting the bodies of the already damned and holy. The horizon was covered with a dense fog that could easily blind the vision of one's eyes, more appropriately, blind it for eternity. Under the increasing snowfall and blustering breeze among Limbo's atmosphere, certainty can confirm that nothing could have survive such frigid climate such as this. No human could survive it.

Yet, one human did.

Slowly being enveloped by the frigid snow, a young man approaching his twenties lay sprawled out among the snow-covered surface. His light-brown skin was graced with the cutting breeze of the winter wind, with snowflakes rapidly falling down his rugged, violet, trench coat. Under that coat lay a blue dress shirt, given to him by his father on his nineteenth birthday. Yet, his father was absent when they cut the cake. The young adult was also dressed in rugged carpenter jeans, gray boxers, white socks, black sneakers, fingerless gloves, and a scratched pair of sunglasses, which lay in the snow in front of him. All of these pieces of clothing were damaged by the continuous snowfall that went on in Limbo.

As his mind came to consciousness, the young adult's vision was blurred as he tried to perceive what was happening. All he could hear was the wind drumming at his ears and the snow blinding his eyes as he tried to stand up. His arms swung to the right side, as his hands pushed into the white blanket. Cold slowly enveloped the two hands as he rolled over on his knees. Before he got up, his left hand reached for his shades, and he retrieved them from the snow, as the teen quickly put them back on. Now all he had to do was stand up. Slowly, but surely, his shoes found their grip on the surface, and he slowly hoisted himself up to face the ever growing blizzard that enveloped this forsaken land.

No. No. I can't be back. No.

The teen slowly trudged onward, his movement hindered by the ever growing snow that was beginning to build up on the ground. It was a challenge to walk slowly, as the snow began to freeze his leg. Every step he took, was one step closer to his own end. His skin burned as the wind bombarded his face with sharp breezes and piercing snow. One foot over the other, another foot over the other, a simple task made an impossible challenge in the blustering winter.

No. It's too much. No.

The teen moaned in pain as he began to tear up. Unfortunately, his tears began to freeze on his face, as ice began to build up, making his movements heavier and heavier. It was almost as if an enormous iron casing was slowly enveloping him, trapping him in a moving tomb. Yet, this icy coffin was growing very quickly by the minute, and all the teen could do was move to keep his body alive with heat. But, the cold was too much, and the body became deprived of warmth.

No. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Finally, the young adult could not take it anymore, and felt his body crash into the opening embrace of the piercing snow. He lay on his side, as his breaths began to gasp for pure air, his lungs taking in enormous amounts of snowflakes. His eyelids flickered as he began to fall to unconsciousness. However, a silent hum resonated through the blustering blizzard. It started off as a low vibration, but, its pitch began to deeply increase, with the tone falling down to equalize with the pitch. The young man mustered enough strength to push himself to his knees, and look ahead towards the source of the sound.

Right in front of him, lay a mysterious, glowing katana, silently vibrating in the snow. It was seemingly untouched by the snow, as the intricate patterns around the handle glowed a pulsating violet color, brushing off the snow that was about to touch the blade. The blade itself, was a masterpiece all on its own. The folded steel shimmered in the dark atmosphere as the young teen saw his reflection along the front of the sword. This simple weapon contained such immense power, with enough to split continents apart and bring down skyscrapers with just a single stroke. So much power, it made the young teen's right hand shiver as it reached towards the handle, craving for a taste of that power. As his fingertips were near, the handle's energy began to skyrocket, and shocks of violet energy began to seep into the tips of the teen's fingers. Finally, he found enough power to close his hand, and the teen could feel his body be rejuvenated by this strange force. The cold was gone, and his body could barely contain the growing energy that was festering in his very soul.

Power. I need more power.

Finally, the teen gripped the katana with both hands, and pointed the blade to the ground. With a quick thrust, he pierced the cold ground with his blade, and everything stopped. Wind stopped blowing, snow ceased to fall, and the blizzard remained motionless. It was as if time stopped for an eternity, as Limbo now was graced with the song of the silence. The teen quickly pulled out the blade from the ground and looked around. He saw the flakes suspended in mid-air, as if they were pictures that seemed to reach out to you and take you in at the first chance they had. However, there was no motion. All the teen could hear was his own ragged breathing.

But, something peculiar piqued his interest. In the fog a couple yards from him, stood a small figure. It looked like a small boy, but, his physique was clouded by the fog ahead. The teen was confused. No soul could ever survive the cold of Limbo. But, if it did, he would take the chance to help the boy to get out of Limbo as he did five years ago. No longer hindered by the cold, he slowly jogged towards the boy. However, when the teen thought he reached the boy ahead, the fog dispelled, and there was the boy, a few yards farther away from him. The teen's jog slowly picked up to a run, as he tried to catch up to the boy.

Daddy?

One word. It made the teen run faster.

Daddy, help.

Two words. He began to run with tears in his eyes.

Daddy, they're here.

Three words. The teen screamed for the boy to stop.

Daddy, they got me.

Four words. The teen threw the sword down as he ran faster.

Daddy, you can't save me.

Five words. The ground began to crackle beneath him.

Daddy, why did this happen today?

Six words. The teen slipped and fell.

Daddy, why do they want my soul?

Seven words. The teen's footsteps began to crack the ice beneath him.

Daddy, the devil always takes what he wants.

Eight words. The child's face was bloodied and eyeless.

Daddy, the devil wants to play with you today.

Nine words. The ice shattered beneath the teen.

Daddy, we will always be together, in heaven or hell.

Ten words. The teen screamed as he fell into Limbo.

"Leon? Dammit, Leon, wake up!"

Leon Sakai's face was graced with a splash of water, as he awoke with a large gasp, as an infant would take his first breaths into the world. His nightwear was soaked with sweat, and his pillows and blankets were scattered along the floor. Leon, with his shades still intact, moaned as he rolled off of his bed onto the floor, beaten and tired. The one who had awoken him, his vice president, Daniel Peters, stood at the foot of his bed, with an empty glass that contained the water used to wake Leon up. This was Leon's fourteenth night terror, and it was getting worse by the minute. Whatever Mundus did to his boss, it wasn't good. The severity of it reached him when he heard Leon's screams from upstairs in Sakai Towers, the basis of Sakai Industries and home to Leon and Daniel.

Daniel gently placed the glass on the carpet, and knelt down towards Leon. "Not getting better, huh?" he quietly muttered as he felt Leon's forehead. It was burning.

"Heh, I've been in worse hangovers than this, Daniel." Leon groggily joked as he grinned up at his protégé.

Daniel rolled his eyes. "You've got a problem, Leon, and you're not doing jack about it."

Leon pulled himself up and rested his back at the foot of the bed. "How can I do something about it?" Leon whispered. "I'm cursed, Danny. Cursed with this demonic gift they call a Nephilim."

"Like the Sons of Sparda, Dante and Vergil?"

Leon nodded. "It could have been worse. I could have been one of those brutes I took care of down in the alleys."

Daniel groaned in frustration. "Please don't get started on how we had to wipe off the grime and muck off your clothes until the morning.

"You could have burned them."

"Yet, you were against it."

Leon sighed as he nodded in reply. Suddenly, his stomach pains began to well up, as Leon held his stomach in agony. He moaned as he motioned to Daniel to a bottle that was on his bedroom desk. The bottle was filled with a brownish, amber liquid, presumably alcohol. "There. That bottle." Leon moaned. "I need some of that."

Daniel scowled as he angrily shook his head. "For the last time, Leon, I'm sick and tired of you resorting to alcohol to drown your problems-"

He was suddenly silenced by the press of a cold revolver barrel to his forehead, as Leon emotionlessly held the gun to his head. "I don't need your fucking opinion on this. What I want, I get." Leon bluntly replied.

Daniel smirked. "I know you won't shoot me. You're not like that."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "No?" He turned the pistol on his own forehead. "And, I know you're going to stop me."

Daniel sighed as he forced himself up and grabbed the bottle from Leon's desk. He then took the glass on the floor and poured Leon a reasonable amount of alcohol. As Daniel offered him the glass, Leon threw the pistol back under the bed, and instead of grabbing the glass, grabbed the whole bottle from Daniel's other hand. Daniel could barely look at Leon, as Leon messily drowned his whole face in alcohol. When the bottle was empty, Leon coughed as he tried to get the excess alcohol out of his system.

"Same dream?" Daniel questioned.

Leon groaned as he also threw the bottle under the bed. "What does it matter? They're all the same. Every night, I see him."

"There has to be some connection to that boy. I mean, there's a lot of possibilities, right?"

Leon shrugged. The alcohol was slowly flowing down to his stomach, which eased his stomach pains. Ironic, since alcohol creates hangovers after prolonged consumptions. However, demons are enveloped in their sin, and sin makes them powerful. Thus, the sinful substance, alcohol, was a tool for survival for Leon. As Leon closed his eyes, he could still see that bloodied boy's face. Could it be…?

"Leon, are you ok?"

Leon looked up, to see Daniel, still in his bedwear, looking at Leon with concern. Leon didn't know what to say after that. All he could muster was a silent nod. Daniel slowly got up, and hoisted Leon's body back to his bed. Leon motioned for Daniel to put aside his blanket and pillows on the couch in Leon's bedroom, and after all tasks were completed, Daniel went back towards Leon, who was lay on his side, breathing raggedly.

Putting a hand on Leon's shoulder, Daniel smiled, and replied, "She's alive. And, no doubt had your son. If I know my sister, she's alive. And, you'll find a way to get to her."

Katherine Peters Sakai. Leon's Wife. Daniel's Sister. Kidnapped? Abandoned? It was uncertain to both Leon and Daniel.

"I should have died a long time ago…." Leon whispered. "All this suffering…This is only the beginning."

"And no better person to face it than the Third Son of Sparda, Leon Sakai."

"Yes….Leon Sakai, The Third Son of Sparda…"

It was all that Leon said as Daniel left the room, and Leon slowly drifted back into sleep.

My family.

My wife.

My son.

Gone.

Taken by demons.

Taken to hell.

Taken to suffer.

And for what?

Nothing.

They will pay.

They will bleed.

They will fear.

They will suffer.

They will die.

For I am death.

I am an angel.

I am a devil.

I am a Nephilim.

I am a Son of Sparda.

I. AM. LEON. SAKAI.

A/U: And, so, the story of my OC, Leon Sakai, begins! I have been waiting to start this project for quite some time, but I could never find the time to give proper attention to it. Basically, Leon's journey will happen after the events of DMC: Devil May Cry, and will also feature a lot of Dante, Leon, and Kat action! I will shift my attention to this story and put all other stories on hold. Please, give feedback! How did you like the prologue so far? Like it or hate it, give a review, PM, favorite, or follow for more details! I've got all summer to work on this, so, I will see you in the next few chapters! Alright, DMC7500 signing off for the day!