The coast road wound in scenic but tortuous curves around the perimeter of the island. The route had seen little use even in the days of the Order, since there had been more direct routes between Fortuna Castle and the organization's headquarters at the opposite end of the island, but the overland paths had degraded beyond usability in the years since the Order's collapse. These days even fewer people had reason to cross the island, so the pavement was in poor repair, but Nero dodged the potholes as best he could and maintained the fastest speed he dared along the twisting route. At least Lady's motorcycle was more maneuverable than the van, which would never have made the turns at any reasonable speed.

It occurred to him, halfway around the island when his mind needed something other than Julio's plight to focus on, that he hadn't actually asked Vergil if he were willing to come along—he'd just expected it. For that matter, he hadn't even asked Vergil to accompany him to the orphanage when he'd gotten the initial call about the demon attack. Vergil certainly didn't seem the sort to be bull-rushed into anything he wasn't willing to do, but Nero found himself wondering exactly why Vergil had accompanied him. Was it possible that he shared Nero's concern for the children? Or had he simply grown so bored sitting in the living room and staring at books that he would take any excuse to do something active?

Nero's curiosity was purely academic, for now; the wind roaring past their ears precluded conversation, even if he had been inclined to ask Vergil directly—which he was not. While he felt he had learned a little bit more about what made his father tick over the past few months, their relationship hadn't yet reached the point of sustaining long or particularly meaningful conversations. It was still an accomplishment if Nero could make it through an entire day without wanting to punch him.

After three quarters of an hour, they swung around the end of a peninsula and caught sight of Order headquarters—or what was left of it, after an otherworldly vine had gutted the building and left it open to the ravages of the elements. The ruins of its elegant bridge and towering spires loomed against the sky, an ominous specter of the Order's glory days. Crumbling masonry and broken arches marked nature's hold on the deserted structure.

Nero slowed down on the approach, watching for signs of ambush, but the area appeared deserted. At the end of the ruined bridge he pulled the motorcycle to one side and cut the engine. "Let's cross the bridge on foot. I'm not sure I trust that thing to support our weight, much less the bike."

Vergil dismounted and surveyed the stairs that rose from ground level to meet the bridge. "Apparently it's held someone's weight."

Nero followed his gaze. Wooden planks had been lashed between the remaining sections of the broken stairway, providing a rudimentary path to cross. "Not a lot of weathering on those boards, for being right on the water. They can't have been there for much more than a year. Someone's been using this place."

Vergil eyed the deteriorated building beyond the bridge. "I can't imagine why anyone would bother. Standing in the open forest would probably be safer, and no less exposed to the elements."

"Some twisted sense of sentimentality, I'll bet. Whoever this guy is, he clearly has ties to the Order." Nero led the way up the long stairway. "And besides, there's a lot more to this place than you can see from out here. It was full of creepy labs and laser grids and all kinds of nasty technology that somebody could probably scavenge if they felt inclined." At the top of the stairs, Nero stepped onto the elevated parade ground where he'd once battled Credo, and his shoulders quaked with an involuntary shudder. Vergil flick a brief glance in his direction, but said nothing. To distract himself from his memories, Nero shaded his eyes and squinted back toward the castle town, just visible in the distance as a cluster of glinting metal roofs turned to gold by the late afternoon sun. "It'll be dark in an hour or so. We'd better wrap this up quick."

They passed through the crumbling gatehouse in the center of the bridge and continued along the uneven remains of the walkway, trusting their weight to the wooden boards only when the gaps were too wide to jump across. In a pinch, Nero knew they could use their winged devil forms to reach the goal, but he wanted to conserve as much energy as possible until he knew just what they were up against.

It didn't take long to find out.

The drawbridge in the center of the complex lay half-collapsed across its supports, leaving an unobstructed view from the marble-tiled entrance hall all the way through the building. Nero took a running start and leaped across the gap in the bridge, Vergil right at his heels, but drew up short just through the next doorway.

On the sea-facing side of the ruined headquarters stood the remains of the circular open-air chamber where Nero had first encountered the Savior, where he'd seen Kyrie slide beyond his grasp and watched Credo die. Now half that structure was gone, crumbled into the sea along with the rock it had been built on. The stone walkway and high wall ended abruptly after a quarter curve.

In the shadow cast by the remains of the surround stood Julio—thankfully unharmed—and a becowled man in deep purple robes, who stood a full head taller than the boy despite his crooked posture. A walking stick leaned against the man's side. One of his hands was clamped on Julio's shoulder; the other held a revolver, its muzzle pressed against Julio's temple.

The figure in the cowl raised its head. "I see you did not come alone." Rough though it was, the voice sounded familiar. "I should have expected as much from a faithless traitor. Whoever you are, it's a pity Nero has dragged you into this, but you should have chosen your allies more wisely. Both of you will dispense with your weapons."

Nero felt, more than saw, the increased tension in Vergil's limbs as he prepared to charge forward. He knew how fast Vergil was; there was a very good chance he could reach their enemy and strike him down before the man's finger could tighten on the trigger. But there was a slim chance that he wouldn't, and Nero wasn't willing to gamble with Julio's life. He stopped Vergil with a raised hand. "Do what he says." Slowly, Nero laid Blue Rose and Red Queen on the ground. With a huff of annoyance, Vergil knelt and placed the Yamato beside his boots.

Nero made a show of stepping away from his weapons. "Julio, you okay?"

Julio opened his mouth to answer, then winced as the man's hand tightened on his shoulder. "The boy is unharmed," the hooded figure answered. "For now. His continued wellbeing will depend on you, of course."

Nero held out his arms. "I'm here, just like you said in your letter. You can let him go any time."

A chuckle emanated from the cowl. "I don't intend to relinquish my advantage just yet."

"I'm surprised you think you need one. Gods and devils are supposed to be super powerful, aren't they?" Nero fixed the figure with a hard look. "Isn't that right… 'Lord Sparda'?"

"So you've heard of me." The cowl angled up as though the wearer had lifted his chin.

"It's a bit much, though, isn't it?" Nero called back. "Sounds kinda sacrilegious, to be honest. And what's with the flashy getup? I seem to remember a lot more white, red and gold in the Order's dress code, not… aubergine, or whatever the hell you're wearing."

"This is the most sacred of colors," the cowled one hissed. "None but I have been worthy of it! None but I have seen the true path to the Savior's ultimate manifestation!"

"Right," Nero muttered, maneuvering a few steps to one side. "That sounds totally sane and rational." In his peripheral vision he saw Vergil mirroring his movement. If they positioned themselves at a wide enough angle, it would be impossible for the man to keep both of them in his field of vision at the same time, and they would have a better chance of getting to Julio.

The man in the cowl laughed. "Naturally, you are incapable of understanding. You, who were always willfully blind to the truth, who served only your own base interests! You had your chance at enlightenment, but rejected it when you betrayed the cause you'd sworn to uphold."

"You seem to have some awfully strong opinions about my integrity, for a guy who uses a false name." Nero took another step. "How about you take off that hood and we talk face-to-face?"

"Why not? Perhaps you will yet come to realize the magnitude of the sins you have committed." The man released Julio's shoulder and swept the cowl back, revealing a gaunt face and graying hair. His condition was different than Nero remembered, but…

"Holy shit," Nero breathed. "Lieutenant Lauda? I thought you were dead!"

"How fortunate that I am able to disappoint you. Despite your best efforts, I was granted new life and a glorious new purpose in the service of the Savior."

"Uh-huh." Nero nodded toward Julio. "Does that glorious purpose involve threatening kids? Because I don't remember anything in the Order's creed about holding child hostages at gunpoint."

Lauda's face contorted in an ugly sneer. "But you were always so fond of firearms, weren't you, Nero?" He twisted the revolver from side to side, though its muzzle never left Julio's cheek. "It's disgraceful that I am reduced to using such a crass, inelegant weapon. Since my injury, I am no longer capable of wielding the noble blade. Still—it gets the job done, as you once said to me." His finger twitched toward the trigger.

"Hey, take it easy with that thing." Nero met Julio's frightened gaze and tried to convey silent reassurance. "What the hell do you want, Lauda?"

"No more than what I've always wanted." Lauda's eyes narrowed. "No more than I deserve. But you have interfered with my just reward at every turn. Again and again, you have denied me what should have been mine."

An old, familiar irritation surged up in Nero, but he suppressed the urge to lash out. As long as Lauda had Julio, he was free to deliver all the rants and pointless monologues he wanted. He took another step to the side. "Which is what, exactly?"

"I should have become a god, like the others," Lauda hissed, color flaming into his pale cheeks as he spoke. "Like Credo, and His Holiness. It was my due! Had I not been loyal? Had I not been faithful? I was next in line for the Ascension Ceremony, and then you—" Nero saw Julio flinch as Lauda's bony fingers again dug into the meat of his shoulder. "—you and your filthy demonic associates destroyed everything!"

"Demonic associates? That's rich, coming from one of Sanctus's ass-kissers. You do know what the Ascension Ceremony was, don't you? What it turned people into?"

"It was the next stage in our purification," Lauda recited with the fervor of a true fanatic. "It brought us one step closer to the path of the True Knight—"

"Cut the crap," Nero interrupted. "All that garbage the Order spouted was just a cover for their power grab, and you bought into it like all those poor, deluded idiots who let Agnus suck out their souls to put in suits of armor. The Ascension Ceremony had nothing to do with Sparda, and it sure as hell wasn't honoring his legacy. If it had been, do you think Sparda's own son would have come all the way here just to shut it down?"

"Sparda's son?" Lauda spat. "The son of Sparda is a myth. No such person exists. If he did, he would have come to lead us in our glorious mission!"

Before Nero could reply, a new sound rolled over him—one he'd never heard before, and which chilled him instantly. Somehow, even Lauda seemed to recognize its significance, for he stopped speaking and followed Nero's astonished stare to the man beside him.

Vergil was laughing.

"I don't know who you are," Vergil said when he'd regained his breath, "nor do I particularly care. Your pathetic delusions are of no interest to me. But I assure you, the only thing that would offend Sparda more than your insipid fawning would be the suggestion that either of his sons would willingly take part in it."

Lauda swelled with rage. "Who do you think you are, to speak for Sparda?"

Vergil's smile did not reach his eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

In Lauda's anger, he pushed the muzzle of the revolver harder against Julio's cheek. Panic filled the boy's eyes, and he moistened his lips. "You… you'd better listen to him, mister. He knows what he's talking about."

"Shut up!" Lauda struck the side of Julio's face with the butt of the pistol, then pressed the barrel against his ear.

"Hey!" Nero shouted. "Look, you and me, we got history. You want to fight me, you want revenge on me, fine, whatever. I'm here, just like you wanted. But you let Julio go. He's got nothing to do with this."

"No?" Lauda sneered. "You took away my protégé, so it only seems fair that I do the same."

"I didn't take Gigi from you. Thanks to your shitty training, she got herself seriously hurt. If we hadn't taken her to the hospital, she might have died. So you're welcome, asshole. Now let my kid go."

"Your kid, is it?" Lauda laughed, a malignant sound that lingered in Nero's ears. "You know, this child wasn't my first choice. I had intended to take the boy with the white hair, but alas, he didn't seem to be home today. Oh, I've seen how special he is to you—how you dote on him, how you spend so much more time with him than the others. Taking him to play violin at that shop, going on long walks… Was it just yesterday that you let him help you repair that scooter? He resembles you so closely, no doubt he reminds you of yourself at that age. Or perhaps…" Lauda looked smug. "You didn't do something irresponsible as a teenager, did you, Nero? That child certainly isn't known at the orphanage. I wonder where he came from."

In spite of the gravity of their situation, Nero's jaw hung slack for a few seconds. "Okay, first off, your reconnaissance sucks, because that white-haired boy is actually a set of twins. So you can divide all that 'special' time you saw me spend with them in half."

"Two sons?" Lauda feigned shock. "Very irresponsible of you."

"For the love of—" Nero appealed to the sky with his eyes. "How old do you think I am? If they were mine, I would have been Julio's age when I—" He shook his head. "You know what, it doesn't even matter. They aren't my biological sons, and neither is Julio. He's just a kid from the orphanage who got sent to us when they ran out of beds. He doesn't even know you, so how about you just let him walk on out of here, and we'll settle whatever needs to be settled between us."

Lauda turned a look of disgust on Julio. "And yet this child has been with you long enough to be corrupted. Perhaps he has already been tainted by contact with you."

"Tainted? What the hell are you talking about?"

"The way you manipulate those around you to abandon the calling of destiny." Lauda's fingers pressed close about Julio's neck, and the boy winced. "The sisters would have raised this child in the light, in the holy steps of the Savior. Have you already turned him from the true path, the way you yourself turned? The way you turned Kyrie?"

The fire in Nero flared bright, and he dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from lashing out with all his power. "So I get the blame for that too, huh? Kyrie was loyal to the Order until Sanctus had her kidnapped. For some reason she started having second thoughts after that."

"Lies! His Holiness would never countenance such a thing."

"Hell, even Credo turned against Sanctus in the end. He didn't much care for having his sister used as leverage."

"Blasphemy!" Lauda roared. "Credo was the epitome of what a Holy Knight should aspire to be! He wielded the true sword! He would never break his oath of fealty!"

"You know what Credo would never do?" Nero hissed. "He sure as hell wouldn't hide behind a kid. Credo wasn't a coward. If he had a problem with someone, he faced them, man-to-man. So come on, Lauda. Let Julio go, and let's do this. You and me, fair and square."

Lauda bared his teeth. "You seem to think I want a duel with you. I don't. You and your contemptible allies stripped me of that honor when you turned against the Savior and crushed my leg. I know I can't defeat you in a physical fight—not just yet, anyway. My time will come soon, as it should have long ago."

In the distance, somewhere across the inlet that surrounded them, Nero could just hear the low hum of a two-stroke engine—though what a scooter was doing out this far, he couldn't imagine. Lauda didn't seem to have noticed it yet, so engrossed was he in his pontificating. Nero wasn't sure whether to hope that the passing rider stopped to offer assistance or missed them entirely. Having more people present might press Lauda into releasing Julio, or it might corner him into harming the boy. The man was clearly unhinged, and that made him unpredictable. "Okay, so you don't want to fight me. What do you want? Why did you go through all this just to drag me out here?"

"All this?" Lauda snarled. "What you know of this is nothing. Let me tell you what I have gone through to make this happen, Nero. Let me tell you of the plans I have made that came to naught!"

Nero heard a long, growling sigh from Vergil. "You had to prompt him," Vergil muttered, crossing his arms. "I hope you weren't planning on returning to the city before dark. This could go on for hours."

Well, they might need hours to get Lauda to drop his guard long enough to have a shot at rescuing Julio. At least as long as he kept talking, he wasn't actively doing harm to his hostage. Nero tried to give Julio another reassuring look and eased half a step more to one side. Vergil, still looking bored, shifted his weight and mirrored his movement.

"It took me years," Lauda ranted on, "years to crawl back to my feet. To apply the research I'd discovered, to learn to walk again. Alone, in darkness, I struggled, surviving on scraps and emergency rations, with nothing to dull my pain. Can you imagine what it's like to lose a part of yourself? To realize that the strength of a limb you have always depended on has been torn away from you?"

"As a matter of fact, I can," Nero said.

Lauda didn't seem to notice his response. "At long last, able to walk again, I managed to return to the city. I was anxious to see how it had changed after our Savior's advent. I fell early in the battle, but I was confident that the loyal soldiers of His Holiness would triumph over a lone assassin and a thankless traitor." His countenance darkened. "Imagine my horror when I found that, rather than flourishing under the Order's leadership, Fortuna had fallen into darkness and corruption. The Savior—our Savior, the one meant to lead us into a new era of enlightenment and prosperity—had been destroyed. Buildings collapsing, the faithful dispersed, our people in despair. Demons wandering the forest. The Order all but destitute. Sanctus, Agnus, Credo—all dead. And why?" Lauda bared his teeth. "Because of you, Nero."

The distant engine noise had stopped, and Nero thought he heard the skitter of a pebble on the stone floor behind him. Best to keep Lauda's attention focused on him until he knew who was approaching. "Why do I get the feeling you're not building up to a nice 'forgive-and-forget' speech?"

Lauda ignored him. "When I saw you, when I discovered you had styled yourself a 'devil hunter' and were claiming to protect the people against the very menace that you had aligned yourself with to overthrow the Order, I knew what must be done. Lord Sparda could not return to lead the faithful into the new age until you were eradicated. So I planned. For months, I studied texts in the library. I learned how to manipulate the forces of darkness, to make them a weapon against you, because I trained you, Nero—I know what a formidable fighter you are! But then—" Lauda let out a shrill laugh. "Then, I heard that you had been injured! Some even said that you had lost an arm, though obviously that was an exaggeration."

"Obviously," Nero drawled. He glanced at Julio and added an eyeroll for effect. The boy returned a tight smile, but the fear was still in his eyes.

"I knew the moment to act had come. I waited a month—long enough that you, in your youthful arrogance, would think yourself healed, but not so long that your body would be fully as strong as before—and laid a trap. It was so simple! A summoning circle, activated among the cafes on a busy summer night. I made certain all the business owners had your telephone number. Surely, when you heard that demons were attacking people in the city, you would rush to take the glory and the profit for yourself—and when you were weary from that battle, I would summon your real opponent!" Lauda scowled. "Only you didn't come. Once again, you disappointed me, Nero."

"No," came a whimper from somewhere behind Nero. He spun and saw Gianna emerging from behind a column midway between Nero and Vergil, hair windblown from the long coastal ride. Her face was white as she stared at Lauda. "No, signore patrono, it can't be true. Tell me you didn't do it."

Lauda merely looked annoyed at her interruption. "I have nothing to say to you, you ungrateful wretch."

Gianna took a step forward. "He said you were dangerous, but I didn't believe him. I told him you only wanted to protect people. So you can't have summoned those demons. Please, tell me you didn't do it!"

"You are not worthy to question my affairs," Lauda snarled. "Be gone from my sight."

"You did, didn't you?" she whispered. "I blamed him, but you were responsible for everything. You killed Mamma e Papà." Gradually the shock in her face turned to wrath. "I served you. I fought for you. I defended you. And you killed them!" She lunged forward with a shriek of pure fury.

Nero was already reaching for her when Lauda's revolver flashed in his peripheral vision. There wasn't time to grab her, so he slammed her out of the line of fire with his spectral arm. She struck the next column, hard, just as Lauda's bullet splintered the surface of the column where she'd been standing.

Nero immediately reoriented toward Lauda, but before he could move, the pistol was back against Julio's head. The boy flinched at the touch of the hot metal on his skin. "Don't be foolish," Lauda warned. "Even your speed is not enough to stop a bullet at this range."

Vergil, who seemed relieved to have something to do other than listen to Lauda speak, went to Gianna and knelt beside her. "How is she?" Nero called, keeping his eyes on Lauda.

"Alive," Vergil answered. "Just stunned, it appears."

"Get her out of here. I don't trust this bastard not to take another shot at her."

Lauda dismissed that notion with a huff. "I have better uses for my ammunition. She's hardly worth the bullet."

As Vergil pulled Gianna to her feet, Nero glared at Lauda. "You were supposed to be her mentor. She trusted you. And that's how you repay her loyalty?"

"You dare to speak of loyalty?" Lauda sneered, then composed himself. "The girl is of no consequence. I have trained many knights, and she is not worthy of the title. Had she proved useful, I could have found some purpose for her in the coming judgment, but she is weak." He shrugged. "There will be others eager to join in our glorious rise—"

"Screw your glorious rise!" Nero burst, his pent-up rage and fear simmering dangerously close to the surface. "I'm done with your crazy schemes, Lauda. Just tell me what you want. You want to kill me? Fine." He threw out his arms to make himself a bigger target. "Just aim and pull the trigger. If I have to stand here listening to you all day, I'd rather you just put me out of my misery now." Nero doubted Lauda's aim was perfect, and even if it was, he knew his odds of surviving multiple gunshot wounds were better than Julio's of being struck with one round at close range. Lauda's revolver couldn't have more than five shots remaining; if he could goad him into using the rest of his ammunition, Julio would have a chance to break free.

"Oh, no," Lauda purred. "I assure you, you will die, but not just yet." He released Julio's shoulder to pick up the walking stick that was leaning against his leg, then used it to prod Julio to walk ahead of him, keeping the gun trained on him all the while. "Before that happens, I intend to destroy you, Nero. To tear you from your faith in yourself the way you tore Kyrie from her faith in the Order. To sacrifice those you love the way you sacrificed Credo."

Julio stopped walking. He had reached the edge where the platform had been sheared away by the Savior's rise years before. A hundred feet of empty space separated his feet from the jagged rocks and debris that broke through the roiling surf below.

The wind snatched at Julio's hair. He looked back over his shoulder at Nero, his tear-brimmed eyes begging for reassurance.

"Lauda," Nero pleaded, all bluster gone, "don't do this. He's just a kid."

"Indeed," Lauda mused. "Knowledge which will no doubt torment your conscience for whatever time remains in your wretched life." He shoved Julio over the edge.

"No!" Nero burst forward, flinging his spectral arm out ahead of him even as he watched Julio vanish from view. He dove to the ground at the cliff's edge, extending his reach, just brushing the fabric of Julio's shirt with the tips of his fingers—

The blade Lauda had drawn from the end of his walking stick pierced Nero's chest and gouged into the floor beneath him, halting his slide toward the edge as it pinned him in place. Nero's vision went white as his body convulsed against the metal drilling through his lung. He tried to cry out, but the sound died away in a gurgle of blood.

Nero was dimly aware that Lauda was laughing, but the sound didn't register. Despite the roar of the wind and the surf and the blood in his ears, the only thing Nero could hear was Julio's scream.