Chapter 1

How do you know what to fight for? How do you know when to fight for something you care about, or to let it go? No one can truly ever answer that question. So why do I keep asking it to myself?

I felt a thump on my head. I opened my eyes and looked up, seeing the dark sky and feeling rain beginning to fall on my face. "Just my luck" I groaned to myself, getting up from my position of slumber. Of all places, I had fallen asleep in an alleyway. I bet passer-bys mistook me for a hobo. I wouldn't blame them.

I looked to my side, seeing a piece of cracked glass hanging from the wall. Leftovers from a homeless camp maybe?

I looked deeply into it as if looking into the eyes of a person. In a way I was, that person being me. My name's Aeon, I'm 17.

I gazed into the glass, feeling strange, seeing the cracked glass disfigure my face.

I ruffled my black hair, seeing the lightly spiked mess move about, now falling from the rain. My blue eyes almost seemed to glow from the light around me. Oh, the poetic descriptions soothe the soul!

I looked about, trying to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Forgive me for that, I tend to forget what I'm doing.

I finally remembered, I was supposed to meet my friends at the opera house. It's usually a place of ceremony and of religion but for this month it was made into a theater.

The show was a musical rendition of the legend of Sparda, the infamous story of the demon lord who sealed the door to the demon world to protect man-kind.

Yeah, sounds like Broadway gold, doesn't it?

I'm not really a religious guy, but I guess I have no choice but to go, figuring my friends will never shut the fuck up about the Sparda bloodline.

I began to walk down the streets of Fortuna, the supposed grand city of the order. God I hate this place! Not for its people, not for its architecture, those are all fine.

What I hate about this place is how deluded its belief system is. Sparda may have been a hero, and to an extent I can see why people love him. I mean wouldn't you love the guy who sealed the door to the demon world, saving your hides and the hides of the rest of the human race? But he is nowhere close to a god.

But who am I to say who can be a god and who can't, I'm just a kid right?

As I walked, I began to fear how my friends would react. My account of how the night's been is kind of blurry. I forget whether I've already been there or if I haven't even gotten there. "Oh, they're gonna be so upset!" I thought to myself.

I remembered one of my friends, Grace. I've known Grace since I was a kid. She's one of the only people I can talk to without having them rant at me for not worshipping a certain demon and his half-breed bastard children. But she only sees me as a brother, but I never wanted to happen.

In all actuality, I've liked her for quite some time now. But unfortunately, my shyness got the better of me.

There's just something about her that makes my heart beat faster. She's always so happy and kind, always knowing how to make people feel better when they're feeling sad. But at the same time, she can have a pretty bad temper and knows how to defend herself.

I was this close to asking her out a few days ago.

I could remember it like it was yesterday. We were at a party being held in honor of the death of one of the sons of Sparda, Vergil. Jeez does everything in this city have to do with Sparda?

I sat in a chair, away from the crowd and there she was across the room, gorgeous as ever, her long black hair reaching her shoulders, her gorgeous green eyes that always seem to glitter when she's happy, wearing casual, almost tomboyish clothing that gracefully complimented her figure.

I was looking at her from across the room, twiddling with a piece of paper I had in my pocket. It was a letter I wrote for her. I poured my heart into that piece of paper.

My hands were trembling, I was sweating uncontrollably and my face was bright red. It felt like my legs were locked up. I couldn't move at all. I was stuck there, sweating and shaking, yearning to just walk up to her and give her the damn letter.

Finally, around the end of the party, I somehow got my legs from out of lockdown and walked awkwardly to her, looking as if I had two left feet. I could swear I heard people laughing at me as I stumbled across the room.

But then as I walked up, I heard her start talking about . . . ugh . . . him, I just couldn't do it.

Ever since moving to Fortuna, she's been head over heels for that red coat wearing freak!

I feel . . . almost heart broken to know this. How could she love the man who ended the lives of her own best friend's parents?!?!

Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was the knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. Or maybe it's like the old saying says, "You snooze, you lose". I was too damn shy to say anything. A rather sad curse I have. In my head, I'm this confident, powerful person. But in reality I'm just a wimp, loosing any fight he believes he can win. Just my luck!