A/u: Twelve favourites and ten follows overnight. Wow! This party's getting crazy. Well, here we go again. Just to make it clear we're going to take a leap back from where the last chapter left off to focus on the prelude. The next few chapters are going be set a number of years before the cannon of RWBY.

Mission 1:So far yet so close

Ah, home. Such a unique term to use when describing one's domain if it could be called that. Most would think that a 'homecoming' as humans called it would be nothing short of a beautiful reunion with family from youngest to oldest, from the most distant of blood ties to the closest and so forth. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case here.

"Traitor!"

"Damned Slave of Mortals"

"Ungrateful Spawn!"

"Heretic! How dare thy taint the purity one of our most prided of bloodlines with such appalling act of obscenity!"

While his kin continued to spout curse after curse at him, he took his time in looking at his surroundings. The place hasn't changed one bit since his departure. Oh, how he much he wanted to come back here. Homesick was the term, yes? Although, perhaps he could afford not having to come back here with his hands restrained by a long bar that was placed behind his head and a set of chains by his feet that were short enough to keep him from widening his stance.

His musings were cut short when he noticed that everything went silent. It was then he took notice of a familiar presence. One he hadn't felt in many,many centuries.

"Sparda." A voice boomed. It was drawn-out but not because of size or age but for display. He knew this well enough.

He turned to face the source of the voice even when his brothers and sisters began backing away in fear of the entity's power. He had to hold himself from openly sneering.

The being before him was shrouded in blackness. It was even more unnerving to see the aura of the entity standing out from the already dark sky. Three sinster red eyes were formed at a perfect trinity and stared intently at the lone being whom countered with impassive, blue eyes.

"Two thousand years," the voice spoke. "For two thousand mortal years you have denied what was ours. Turned your back on your own kind and more so your duty as a Knight of Hell what more your title as the greatest swords-wielder of the demon world. All of this and for what? Power. Influence. Envy. What and why, dearest of brothers?"

"I object, I had my duty clear as the bright blue sky of the Earth. My duty as a Hell Knight was to answer to the call of justice wherever that may be. I truly understand that now more than ever before."

He turned to face the others.

"You have forgotten that. All of you! Slaves to your own desire and lust! Hell wasn't built upon the slaughter of an innocent race. We were proud and duty driven once. Given purpose by subjugating the wrongful and the wicked. What say you? Have you forgotten the promise of Lord Urzine?"

He let his words sink in. True, the Demon King had left under auspicious circumstances. At a time when the Demon Realm had no contender to face him. No true successor to replace the throne he had left vacant for all to see. What they did know however, was that with his departure, he had token a considerable portion of Hell's forces quietly. With no dominance over the rest of them, the demons were quick to turn on one another in a brutal civil war that went for eternity.

That was until he came with his champion. Bested all the other Hell Lords at the time through said champion and established as the Dark Prince. For a time, all was spent on quelling subsequent rebellions. Then, came the preparations for an invasion. An invasion of the mortal realm.

It had not been the first time the mortal realm was raided by demons and then left unchecked for a few millennia before repeating the cycle once more but it was the first time that they would have stayed permanently if it weren't for an unexpected variable to occur.

Which brought them here, two thousand Earth years later. One, chained up knight surrounded by what by all means was an angry mob prepped to give him what they thought he deserved.

The promise he spoke of? That was actually Lord Urzine's promise of a new Age. It had been a very long time even by demon standards since they had a revolution of their own. An Age would signify complete rebirth. it would be a new beginning for all to prosper under. However, said promise and reset would only come when the demons as a whole had an offering worthy of such value. That value being the sacrifice of the strongest of their kind or a proper substitution if there ever was one. Sadly, with the King's disappearance that didn't seem all too likely to happen.

The demons,though contempt to hear anything from a traitor, were not blind to the questionable fate of their lord.

In all honesty however, Sparda cared less if they killed him before they begin to reason with the idea he planted into their minds.Family was family, even if said family wanted nothing more than to perpetually torture you for all eternity.

"Enough of your lies! Bring the executioner. Let us get on with it."

As soon as he said so, a portal opened up in front of the accused. Out came a massive humanoid that had nothing save chains and a burlap sack that served as a head. Truly the most unoriginal creature but it was the weapon that it carried that made all present,except the intended target and the entity, recoil in fear.

Soul Eaters.

Weapons designed with the intended idea of absorbing and harnessing demonic spirits. The weapon functions by extracting the very soul of a demon and concentrating it into a very small space before releasing it. By the time the energy has fully accumalated,however, there will be no trace of the spirit's essence, essentially killing even Devil's permanently.

Soul Vorers tended to shapeshift to best fit the personality of the victim. Obviously, in this case it had chosen a double-edged sword to match the accused.

Even when the blade was raised, the proclaimed knight refused to exhibit any form of emotion that gave his captors pleasure. He was going to die without giving them their satisfaction and he knew just how to get it done. As the blade fell, an unseen force blasted in all directions as the accursed instrument dug into flesh. The audience present was mostly knocked off their feet by the hurricane winds.

As the traitor's life force slowly ebbed away from him, the Dark Prince could only watch in satisfaction as his former underling general was essentially being compressed from the inside out. However, he was still truly annoyed that there was not but a single grunt after the initial cry of pain ended.

Sparda on the other hand wasn't having the best of times. The accursed blade had dug deep into him to the point it protuded out his backside nestled itself into the ground and was what was preventing him from toppling over.The knight's human form was at it's breaking point. His skin felt tight as if it was being undone from his flesh and what sounded like squelching and gurgling sounds coming from within him. He figured judging from the faces of the other demons that his insides were probably getting fused from together.All while lightning danced around his body which originated from the Soul Vorer's guard.

Nonetheless, he had to delay his imminent death by just a bit longer. He had long since prepped for a moment like this. Traitor or not, he'd be blessed before he came home empty handed.

Which was why his brothers and sisters became perplexed when they saw runes begin forming around the Dark Knight and the lightning that once danced around him, in particular the gaping wound, was now replaced with radiant light that was steadily growing brighter.

"What is this?! Sparda, explain yourself!" The voice boomed once more but now more desperate than threatening.

The pseudo-human had to chuckle at the obvious fear that permeated the atmosphere. Taking the blade by both hands, he further pulled it into him. Grimacing at the added pain. His human form finally gave in, revealing a twin-horned demon with hooves for feet and red eyes. On its back were a set of insectoid wings.

"You would think I'd come back home after so long empty handed? Consider this my farewell present!"

As the light grew brighter, he realized his end was now.The self-destruct spell he casted on himself centuries ago would finally fulfill its purpose and the demon world will suffer a major setback for many human years to come.His final thoughts turned back to the family he left behind and a wave of sorrow settled over him.

'Stay safe my love, Eva. As for my children, forgive Papa. He's not coming home anytime soon.'

DMC

He didn't know what was to be expected in the afterlife but it surely wasn't the rough texture of grass that was certain. He could feel a mild breeze brush against his apparel.His 'fatal'wound still stung so atleast there was some measure of constant variable;somehow.

Deciding that lying face first on his chest wasn't going to help him in anyways, he decided to turn onto his backside. Sure enough, the sting amplified but it wasn't anything more than a nuisance. Carefully, he lifted his eyes and had to squint as a familiar fireball glared back at him.

Judging from its position, he guessed it was somewhere around noon. He was just about getting used to the intense light when some other light decided to bother him aswell. Turning to the source which was on his left, he was met with a handsome looking devil with blue eyes and spectacular monocle;essentially his reflection.

He followed with his gaze along the length of the flat surface which he realized was a blade belonging to a longsword. He finally came to the end which revealed a familiar guard and spiral hilt. It was his beloved sword albeit dormant; Force Edge.

With his strength returning, he brought himself up to a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to observe the scenery around him.

He was in a lush woodland. The chirping of birds and the occasional rustling alerted him to the lively fauna that continued going about their simple lives regardless of the man whom stood within a small clearing. It was nice to see such beauty, if only it wasn't going to be violently interrupted in the next few minutes.

His prediction came true when something growled behind him. Nonchalantly, he turned his head around and sure enough there stood some mysterious predator that looked ready to feast on an easy prey.

As the creature leapt into the air, time seemed to slow down. At its maximum height, however, the creature was surprised to feel some-things embedding within it. Most notable in it's neck, chest and pelvis. It hadn't had time to even react to the pain when a hand pushed it with enough force to send it flying backwards onto the ground.

Sparda watched the creature with an analytical gaze. This was knew even for him. Never had he seen a wolf creature like that and most surely not one that didn't give off a demonic present.

He readied himself three more senbon needles, each clasped firmly between his left fingers. His movements were still jerky and he wasn't sure if he could move without the support from Force Edge.

As he limped closer, he got himself a better look at the dark entity. It had all the characteristics of a wolf and some extras. Most notable were the bone platings and sharp spikes on its back. For offense, it had large claws but that was to be expected.

Decinding the creature had enough misery for one life, he promptly stabbed it in the chest where he guessed the heart will be. Sure enough, its twitching ceased but he was mildly attracted by the dissipation factor upon its death.

It's death only attracted four more whom were much more wary of him. There was a howl in the distance and the dark knight could only sigh before slipping into a battle stance. Legs outstretched and sword leaning on his left forearm. He turned to face the nearest beast.He'll let his instincts take care of them as he himself was far too tired from recent events.

DMC

The beasts were easy to deal with sure enough. Not long after, he began to trek through the forest in hopes of finding signs of civilization.Honestly, he felt a sense of nostalgia doing this. It brought him back to old times.Times when he was humanity's worst nightmare before he secretly became their best chance at survival.

DMC

Something was wrong, it couldn't place it. Whatever spell its lord had used had surely worked if its breathing was any indication.

As its vision cleared it caught sight of a burnt patch of depressed land. The signature sign of runes were everywhere but they were exhausted and only remained as garbled scratchings and red splotches on the ground.On top of that, it was lying on its torso.

Willing itself to stand from its previous position, it caught a brief sight of what it could expect beyond the safety of the crater. Instantly, it saw its first victims.'They' moved and swayed as if they lacked motor control. Whatever they were,it was confident he could best them all.

For it was the Greates Swordsman of Hell!

Coming down into a crouched stance. It opened its wings,preparing to use them for extra fear factor. In a burst of speed, it jumped out of the crater and willed itd sword in his hands. It rolled in the air for greater momentum before it came down upon its first oppenent.

The response was... dissatisfying. No scream of pain or rage.No siganture sound of flesh getting ripped.Why, there was even an absent thump like most bodies would do when they fall. Sure, there was the sound of something hard snapping but that was it.

The demon was in a crouched position at the time, carefully looking ahead, it was less surprised at what it saw and more frustrated.

Let it be known that Sparda's first kill in the mortal realm wasn't by all means a human but a log. And a rotting,fungus infested one at that.

DMC

Now that he thought about it, the only reason he got mad was because he had nothing to clean the blade with that didn't involve his saliva.Not like it wasn't common for demons to use their own body liquid to clean their weapons, it was just that there was no way he was gonna do that when he himself had no idea just what he had chopped at the time.

His musings were stopped when the sound of his footsteps changed to a crunching sound. It was then he noticed he was on a dirt road and a well used one at that. Fortune smiled upon him now as there was indications that a vehicle had passed here recently.

Deciding to follow the trail, he turned back to where he left off in his hike through memory lane.

DMC

It loathed this place. It's lack of violence, the quite atmospehere and the fact it hadn't had anything to kill since first stepping from the crater was doing nothing to calm the Hellspawn's consicence.It can now understand why the previous raiders never stood long enough to occupy this place.

Still, it had not time to waste on ventless anger. The spell was potent it'll give it that. Summoning a Devil was one thing but a high profile one was something else. Their minions here must have used a very,very valued sacrifice.

The Master's orders were clear though, it had to find a great edifice and establish a chain of command with their followers.It they were going to create a permanent nest here than it required coordination on both ends of the spectrum.

It's line of thoughts were soon halted upon seing something on the horizon. It definitely wasn't natural formation it'll give that.

It peeled it's lips, revealing a razor sharp maw. Oh,it couldn't wait to gnaw at their bones. But it'll have to wait. An open reveal now wouldn't do any spawn good.

Still doesn't mean it couldn't test the depths though.

DMC

As the nobleman came closer to the settlement, he began disecerning several notable characteristics

Two prominent ones were that the settlement had a stone wall and it looked to have been recently attacked. Evident by the claw marks that were all too familiar.

He looked up just in time to see two heads peek out over the top end of the wall.

"Oi, you down 'ere. What you want? We ain't hosting any festives this season."

English. Good. At least he didn't have to worry about a language barrier but still...

"Just a lost traveller, I'm hoping you could let me in for the evening. It's getting rather dark out here."That was true. The time taken to find the dirt path had seen the day change from midday to early evening. But that was some three hours ago if his pocket watch was correct.

The response came from the second man.

"An' you think we'd just up and beliv' you stranger? You ain't got a propah knapsack to begin with. Fer all we know you could just be lookin' to gut us."

True. But that begged the question. Why the show of hostility?Fortunately, he knew just the remedy.

Reaching into his side pocket, he fumbled with the contents inside until he found what he was looking for. Taking it out, he placed it on his palm. With a simple flip of the thumb, the small,shining object was sent flying into the air and over the wall.

The guards whom had watched the whole thing were taken back by the skill and power of the throw. Nonetheless, the second man had managed to swipe it from its descent. Looking at what he had caught, he raised and eyebrow at the gleaming, gold coin in his leather gloves.

"You both look as if you could use a raise. Think of this as a gesture of friendship," Sparda added with a soft smile.He flipped another one up soon after the first one and watched as the other sentry caught it.

There was a brief look between the two sentinels. Their heads then receded from the edge of the walls and more time passed. Night had fallen when the gates to the town opened and on the other end were the two guards from before.

As Sparda stepped in, he could finally have a good look at his hosts. They wore meager armor whic consisted of leather padding and an iron helm. If the spears were anything than these men were militias. He'll have to look into it later.

It was then the first guard spoke. Greeting him with an extended left arm.

"Welcome to Foster."

He returned the hearty handshake and asked.

"I don't suppose you know where I could find room and board for the night, do you?"

" 'Ead down main street. You'll see a inn 'er."

" Thank you. Have a happy evening."

DMC

The trip to the inn was a quiet affair all together. When he reached the main square, he gave a brief glance upwards and noted the faded sign that said ' Desmond's Winehouse' . The place must have been the town's original granary. If the shape of the structure meant anything.

Walking up to the large set of wooden double doors, his senses becoming stronger with each passing moment, his nose was immeadiately assaulted by the smells of wine, sweaty men and a heterogen other things. However, there was one peculiar smell that he just couldn't place. The thought excited him. It had been awhile since life gave him an unknown to seek out.

The inside of the inn was well lit. Men and women of all ages were grouped around circular tables and sharing stories of their daily ventures in life.However, he noted the lack of enthusiasm amongst them.

With haste, the psuedo-man saw a few vacant seats by the counter and immeadiately made a grab for one. The others took barely any notice of him as he strode past them. Not that it mattered to him.

Planting his rear on the well-used leather, he was immeadiately approaced by what he assumed was the owner. The man was looked to be in his mid-thirties. Wearing a dirty apron over a short-sleeved olive shirt and blue jeans. The man's face was caked with sweat from kitchen duty. In hand, he had a cloth and was busy wiping one of the dinner plates.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

"A couple of steaks and rice if you have. And for a drink, just plain water would do."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at peculiar order but didn't protest. As he set out to do his duty, his customer fell into deep thought. Subtly, he slipped into a classic thinking pose with both hands clasped underneath his chin. His eyes staring at a thousand yards.

The architecture here was western and so were the people but why did he feel as if he were somewhere down south? Europe nor the world hadn't experienced any major tectonic shifting that was for sure and most certainly not on that scale. Then there were the black beasts he encountered.

The Hell-Knight gave a sigh. All evidence pointed at a new venue. He wasn't on the Earth he knew and he doubt he had the power at the moment to open a rift, especially without Yamato to help.

His order came. After giving a nod of approval, he took off his right glove and pocketed it before wolfing down his meal. Food wasn't something he concerned himself with but for the sake of his mate and nestlings, he set himself as a living example for life.In addition, Eva's cooking was pretty good, after the literal seventy-fifth attempt.

Honestly, he couldn't remember just what happened after his first homecooked meal but it somehow caused him to Devil Trigger so there's that.

BANG!!

'Oh, what now...,'

At the entrance, three newcomers had barged in looking like they owned the place. Sporting black gambesons with brown leather armor for protection. There were three of them with the leader at the head of the pack wearing a battered roman helm.

All turned to look at the new arrivals with fearful gazes. This in turn satisfied the men whom began to walk to the counter like they owned the premise. One of them took a look at one of the maids whom shot a baleful look at the obvious perverted thoughts lurking within the mans mind.

As they approached the counter, the leader gave a sign for his subordinates to halt. In front of them was a platinum haired man wearing a purple coat. The leader gave one look at the man before turning to his companions whom immeadiately turned around to keep an eye on the rest of the people within the well-lit space.

The leader approached the stranger at a measured pace. When he was close enough, he raised one leg and placed his foot on the edge of the counter. An act that didn't go unnoticed by the owner of the inn.

Shifting his weight forward to catch a glimpse of the man's meal, he himself couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the slightly unusual order. He turned his gaze to the innkeeper whom only shrugged and quietly resumed his chores.

Adjusting himself once more , he leaned towards the man's ear.

" Don't you think it's a bit early to be getting clueless pops?"

No response. The man just continued his meal. This only irked the leader. This place was supposed to have been subdued long ago and discreetly so.

Which meant that he was probably a foreigner and a loaded one at that if the attire meant anything. Expectantly, he carefully slid his hand to the holster on his left thigh.Somebody had to be taught a lesson.

Sparda heard a familiar brush of metal on leather before the cocking of the hammer.Firearms may have been a recent thing back in his world but he wasn't blind to their uses. They were perhaps the most bizarre weapon Man had made since his involvement in the Agricultural Revolution. Come to think of it, there 'was' perhaps a sect back in the Underworld that would've been real interested in projectile weaponry.

"You've got some nerve not replying to someone who's nice you know that?"

Ah, why did humans have to be a bother...

The obvious thug brought the gun across the man's back hard, twice. The silence in the grew stronger as most looked on with trepidation at just what on Remnant the stranger hoped to achieve by such open defiance.

"Huh, must be brain dead from the bad food here"

The bartender subconciously gripped the pan in his hands tighter. Oh, how much he loathed these men. Their kin had done nothing but ridicule his family for their inistence on keeping the town fed. But considering that everyone else had left, it was better than nothing.

"Oi, breast boy! My scotch. Where is it!? " Yelled a slightly high pitched voice.

That was one of the underlibgs. The loud one accurately. He'd gotten careless in sorting out the inventory when the bandit had happened to see his family's most prized possession. A bottle of Atlesian wine. And a famous one at that. Sadly, they only ever had one.

"We only had one pisshead. Go find something else to suck.."

BANG!

The innkeeper was taken by surprise when the wood beside him splintered violently. A series of yelps and gasps filled the air at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

"You said something?"

The innkeeper turned his head around clearly enraged.. "I said go find something else to suck your mouth on!"

Like timber reaching its limit, the tenseness of the atmosphere snapped. The thug's eyes were ablazed in a frenzy. Vaulting over the counter that seperated the two, it had forsaken its gun for a knife in its boots.

Likewise, the owner of the inn held the pan in his hand at the ready. If this had to be the way then so be it. He'll show the townspeople that there was still hope in repelling these intruders.

The thug had covered about half the distance when his head snapped to the side along with the rest of his body falling with a hard thud on the wooden floor.He grasped the side of his neck where it bled heavily and started letting out guttural,wailing noises.The leader whom had been watching the whole thing immeadiately turned his attention back to the old man, clearly angered and slightly confused..

The hidden demon had his arm outstretched. The needle had done its job by penetrating a rather specific spot that he knew wouldn't kill the man but cause abbreviating pain.

"Bastard!" The buisness end of the pistol exploded releasing its deadly projectile. All of the bystanders watched as the bullet seemed to travel the short distance in slow motion.

And seemingly come to a halt midway to target.

For the first time since the whole incident began, the nobleman lifted his intentional obliviousness. He had taken the metaphorical spotlight when he acted like an airhead to the thug but now the audience was going to finally see a figment of his true potential.He couldn't help but let out a hearty chuckle.

Oh, humans. So easily they were to be enamored at even the smallest of displays. Though, his Persona abilities would definitely be accounted as supernatural in a sense.

Taking the extra time to clean his hand and mouth with a cloth, Sparda stood up. His meal finished entirely. The thug leader was still standing at his spot. One hand aiming the gun and the other to his side.It should be noted however that the man was sweatibg bullets despite being completely still as a statue.

"Only a few decades and this is how far firearms have gotten. Truly, humanity continues to amaze me."

One thing he learned from his time in service to humanity was that it was a determined race. Ever insistent on pursuing its needs and wants even if it took generations to achieve. And while it was admittedly the Dark Knight that helped turn the tide of battle, in truth had humanity been warned of the oncoming apocalypse beforehand then he had no doubt that humanity would've been more than capable of staunching Hell's hordes.

He rose from his seat and leisurely walked behind the man. Turning to face the only thug still yet to act his part in the play, he flicked his fingers and pulled his lips upwards slightly. The bullet that had been meant for him moved to his side, still spinning.

"Rather than standing there like a complete dunce, I suppose you would want to pick up your friend there."

That got the final thug out of his stupor and he immeadiately bolted over the counter to check on his friend. Much to his surprise, the wound had stopped bleeding but a brief glimmer of metal told him that whatever had hit him still needed removal.Promptly, he took one arm over his head and with as much grace pulled the other man into a standing position.

The third thug wasted no time in vaulting over the counter with some effort on his buddies part.Taking one last look at the mysterious man in purple garbs, then left the inn.

That left the leader, still frozen in place.Drenched in his own sweat. From what little his peripheral vision offered him, he could tell the people were looking at him with a lust for revenge.

The clicking of shoes brought his attention back to the purple-clad stranger who came into view. The man whoever he was had a smug grin plastered on his face. The monocle only accentuated that but what really mattered was the bullet that still followed loyally at his side like dog would its master.

With another flick of his fingers, the bullet proceded to fly close until it barely grazed the man's forehead. The fact it was still spinning as if in eager anticipation only further pummel the man's expectations of leaving alive.

"Now what to do with you?" The pseudo-man hummed before looking at the audience.

"What say ye?" He spoke with a raised voice.Stretching his arm out, he pointed his thumb to the side.

"Nay,"

And then upwards.

"Or yes?"

The patrons shared a multitude of hushed whispers. They then turned to face what he presumed was the eldest amongst them.A silent message was passed on.

The elder whom was a man in his forties with a bald head and thick beard along with a traditional woodsman attire turned to the mysterious stranger.

"Nay, leave him be, we don't want more trouble with their kind." Spoke the man in deep voice.

The demon scrunched his eyebrows. This was unusual. He would've thought they'd be more willing to stand against a thug such as this one.However, if what he heard was correct then he'll have to look into the matter.A chore for later he supposed.

With a final flick of his fingers, the bullet fell harmlessly onto the ground along with the man's rear. The thug leader was breathless, his muscles stiff from a near futile effort to break away from his invisible prison.

Gently, Sparda lowered himself until he was almost level with the man. Blue sapphire met green. With a low yet firm voice he spoke.

"Next time you enter a public premise, try to wait for a man to finish his meal before you speak. Some people may not have the luxury of every day meals you know?"

Then came a horrible stench and in response the nobleman overdramatically stood up and recoiled.A hand to his face and one more fanning away the horrid smell.

"Urgh! And go and get yourself changed! For heaven's sake, I never recalled your kind to be so this despicable."

The man and by extension the rest of the inn looked confused at first to the man's reaction until they noticed the awful smell aswell. The thug, much to his horror, looked down at the source which came from his in-betweens. Having realized he had embarassed himself enough. He got up albeit awkwardly and began a staggered run towards the entrance to the inn.Almost smashing his way through the double doors. His footsteps couldn't be heard after that.

With the thugs gone, there was a pregnant silence within the inn. No one seemed to have the slightest clue with how to proceed. Then there was a loud thud and they turned to see the mysterious stranger on the floor with his back to the counter. Sweat dripping profusely from his chin as if he ran a marathon.

The man in question on the other hand was growing ever confused. One moment he had been fine, the next a wave of nausea swept over him and he felt his body fold like paper.He had barely managed to right himself on the wooden surface of the counter. As his vision blurred and his thoughts became muddled, he had only a single line of thought.

"Why is it I...can't ever have some fun for once ...without karma staining...moment?"

Then the world went black.

A/u: You would not believe the challenge it took to reach this far. In between fighting with Fanfic's writing system, writer's block, diruptions and exams I still this could've gone better.

If you find this chapter much different in terms of writing style in comparison to the last one well it's because I'm still quite the newbie. I'm still new to the concept of bringing my ideas to the physical or rather digital realm so bear with me. Not to worry, I already have the story somewhat mapped out in my head.

This story will also somewhat touch on Sparda's past. I think every DMC fan can agree that there is more to the legend than meets the eye. This story will attempt to cover it through flashbacks.

That is all for now. God willing, chapter 3 will be there soon. I'm gonna focus on fixing the first chapter after this however.