Chapter Seventy-Nine: Crimson

Note: I don't even know what to say about this one. It's time. Big NOPE!

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It was impossible to miss the place that they were meant to go to. That much had proven true. Of the scores of routes and ways through the vines that had presented themselves, the one path that they were meant to take was the only one that didn't change. As they progressed further and further away from the place that they had found sanctuary in, the vines grew less luminescent until they became visibly dim. And then from there they lost all color and turned white before turning black, their decay evident. They were easy to navigate, crumbling into dust or falling limp and wet before their feet as they passed, depending on the stage of decomposition that they were in.

Up ahead of them, darkness pooled out of the very ground around them, making it somewhat difficult to see any potentially far off or partially obscured structures, but still easy enough to see what was directly around them. It was like looking out into the distance and seeing nothing but gray fog, a sort of chill hanging in the air that hadn't been there before. And as they rounded a corner and proceeded forward, suddenly they all came to a stop. They had found it.

Yes, that had to be what they were looking for.

Looming over them just a short distance away were the remnants of what appeared to be a tower, an assumption that proved immediately incorrect as they grew closer and came to the collective conclusion that the spire they had seen from the distance was merely one portion of the remnants of a strange castle. It was different from the bloom-shaped home that their gracious hosts had dwelled within, much more unknowably noneuclidean and hard to define. The walls and the proportions just didn't seem to make sense at first glance, and it was hard to even begin to try and figure out where an entrance would be. They needed to go inside, after all.

The sisters had guessed that this was the source of Belial's influence over their realm, and they were more than willing to agree just by looking at the place. All the tainted energy that corrupted the infernal realm clearly originated from this structure, and if they wanted to find a way into the abyss, then there was no better place to start looking. How very thrilling. They just couldn't wait.

And after what felt like a lifetime of circling the structure and attempting to find the best route with which to enter, they came upon the remnants of what seemed to be a broken drawbridge, the gate still visible from the other side. Despite the less than structurally sound state of the old abandoned building, it seemed that at least the entrance was still standing. They could work with that.

Making their way across the precarious drawbridge, the eldest son of the Dark Knight Sparda didn't even volunteer to go first. He simply entered the structure and expected them to follow his lead but stay behind him where they were still mostly safe. He didn't feel right allowing any of them to go into a building ahead of him that he didn't personally know was safe, and as such, he wasn't even going to entertain the idea of asking. No, he would go first. It was the only smart thing to do. And besides, the last time he hadn't gone first both of his sons had nearly fallen into the abyss. This was probably for the best. Or at the very least he was going to continue telling himself that. Anything to get him through this. They were almost there.

Realizing that he was quietly waiting for them to follow along, they did so, making their way across the precarious wood beams that were all that remained of the once thick bridge and into the somewhat more stable structure beyond. The ground was cracked and had clearly seen better days, most of the walls having shifted and seemingly ready to fall at any moment if not for the fact that they were clearly held in place by some form of demonic energy, pulsating like veins within the body of some unknown being and hovering if touched, floating slightly out of the way if small enough to do so. It would have all been quite fascinating if not for the fact that the structure was liable to crush them at any moment if enough reason was given. The building was almost fluid. Thankfully the less than desirable state of the place made it considerably easier to navigate, the open holes in the walls, broken windows, and staircases that led to nothing making it a confusing site to behold but one that was admittedly a bit more approachable than some of the places that they had been to collectively in the past.

"Still better than that awful mirror dimension on Mallet Island. If I had to pick between going back to that place and just dying, I know which one I'd go with." The youngest twin thought to himself as they traversed the winding halls and corridors of the collapsing castle. As they drew closer to the center of the structure, dark markings and dustings of black ash and soot seemed to almost beckon them downward, the winding staircase that led into what was more than likely the basement or cellar seemingly leading them towards its epicenter. How appropriate that a demon born of such darkness would reside in the deepest recesses of a destroyed manor. It seemed the devil prince at least had a sense of humor. Too bad it was so cliched.

"Ya know, you almost seemed like you recognized that guy in the mask when we were leaving. Do ya know him from somewhere or somethin'?" Dante asked as quietly as he could out of an attempt to make things a bit less awkwardly silent. It was so quiet down here that he could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone he was with. It was the kind of deafening silence that drove a man to madness and the kind that he strove to alleviate. He hoped that it wasn't the sort of thing that Belial would use against him. The small discomforts that would wear one down over time and make them vulnerable to his influence. Death by a thousand needles, so to speak. Far from the blaze of glory he'd been hoping for.

But there was some honest curiosity in his inquiry. He had noticed the shift in V's demeanor just as they were leaving Lympha, and he was curious to know if he knew him or not. There had been some recognition there, even if only for a moment. Sure much of his concern and apparent confusion at the moment had probably been directed towards the adjudicator staying behind, but he got the impression that a good amount of it was also directed towards his friend's opponent. There was just something in his eyes that said it without him needing to speak a word.

V looked over at his uncle for a moment, not actually realizing that he was being addressed initially. His focus was on his environment. He needed to keep his footing and his wits about him. It was dark and there was just something about this place that unsettled him in the deepest core of his being, some aura that made his stomach churn and his nerves run ragged. At first, he thought that it had simply been the reality of what they were going to do that was doing it to him, but the longer he stayed here, the more he became sure that it was the structure that they currently inhabited that was causing the issue. It felt similar to the way that he had felt when he and Sirrus had first encountered Belial, but this was too different. He couldn't place what the difference was, but there was something unique about this place. And he didn't like whatever that was.

"... Call it a hunch that I have, but I do believe I may have seen them somewhere before." He continued forward with the rest of the group, on high alert and quietly taking in his surroundings. If not for the fact that he would be running the risk of losing the element of surprise entirely if he did so, he would have summoned Griffin or Shadow to help run reconnaissance for him. Due to the way that this place was built, he felt completely blind in here. And suffocated. It wasn't that his eyes didn't work. In fact, they seem to be working better than ever in these dark conditions, all things considered. No, he meant that his sensory abilities were being actively hampered by something, and the fact that he didn't know what that something was was admittedly unnerving.

Even back when he had little control over his powers, he had been able to sense his Urizen's power before physically encountering him, being the only one to do so to his knowledge. It had been the one thing that he had always been able to count on when it came to his abilities. But now? He could barely sense the presence of his own family as he walked among them. He wasn't entirely sure why this place functioned in the way that it did, but he hoped that they were not alerting their opponent to their approach. He had no reason to believe that their aunts would throw them under the bus, but perhaps they didn't know? After all, he doubted that they came here very often if at all. It was entirely possible that they might have accidentally walked into a trap in much the same way that a hapless insect wandered into a spider's web while searching for dinner.

Dante shrugged, not visibly lingering on the matter any longer. He had figured that much, but if he wasn't going to say anything more about it then he wasn't going to ask. They had bigger things to worry about right now anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was distract him from the task at hand in a way that might be detrimental by asking him to dwell on the fate of someone who he didn't even know. All he'd really truly been trying to do was ease the anxiety in the room. He'd be lying if he said that he was excited to go up against the opponent.

As a matter of fact, he wasn't really. Dante loved a good fight as much as the next guy, but these kinds of fights asked too much of him on a personal level, and even though he would breathe a happy sigh of relieved euphoria when Belial finally laid dead at their feet and do a cowboy dance on his grave, he didn't like the idea of walking into a situation like this. Especially not with Vergil there. He just felt as though they were retreading broken ground for him. He had an entirely different set of reasons for not wanting to be here, and his unyielding silence spoke volumes.

He had hardly said anything since they had left their father's old home aside from worrying over Nero for a moment when he'd left, asking him how his recovery from his injuries had progressed. It had actually been somewhat endearing, all things considered. Dante was glad to see his older twin opening up a bit more and being actively and openly concerned about the well-being of his sons in a way that was able to be witnessed, even if it was probably just because of the fact that they were in an extraordinarily hostile environment and he needed to be sure that they could handle themselves. Vergil had put in a genuine effort, and he was proud of that.

"So, does anybody have any idea where we're going, or are we just kinda wandering in the dark until we come across something that either tries to kill us or that leads us in the right direction?" Nero asked as nonchalantly as he could, the slight tinge of discomfort and nervousness in his voice unmissable. He tried to laugh it off, but it wasn't working this time. Each of them spared a glance at him for a second, surprised to hear such a tone come from the young demon hunter. Nero was always so straightforward and steadfast, unwavering in the face of the duty he felt he had to perform. Fearless and defiant. And yet, the fact that all four of them had to fight this one opponent seemed to unnerve him slightly. He was far from willing to back down, but as they inch closer and closer to the epicenter of the darkness, none of them could deny how incredibly heavy the air was becoming and how difficult it was to breathe. It was deeply unnerving. Like they were fighting a force of nature instead of a demon.

Vergil seemed to consider the question quietly to himself, his brow furrowing as he tried to conjure something even remotely understandable or satisfying. After a minute or two, he eventually gave up, certain that he had nothing encouraging or worthwhile to add to that discussion. In a way, he knew without asking exactly what Nero was talking about. And if he was going to make a guess, he said it was more a combination of the tooth and anything else. It was true that he had no idea where he was going, but he was working off a feel down here so he knew that neither of them did either.

Still, it was strange to be in the underworld and be in a place he didn't recognize. It felt like he had gone everywhere during his time here. Oh, how he wished that he had not taken the plunge downward and to the domain of the demon prince. He liked to think that it would have saved him a bit of trouble down the line, but considering the existence of the prophecy, it seemed that even that wouldn't have saved him from this fate. This was simply something that had been predestined, and he would do his best to face it with pride, honor, and a deadly arsenal of lethal weaponry. Perhaps a bit of trickery.

"... None of us have any way of knowing that for sure. All we can do is… " The Darkslayer stopped speaking, his voice slowly quieting as the four of them entered a chamber, the ceiling of the room that they now stood in seemingly significantly higher than the staircase they had just come down. It felt as though they had been walking straight down for a minute or so, but even still the yawning abyss above them was far too high to be contained within the same building. It was immensely unsettling for reasons that none of them could really place. And before them stood perhaps the most unsettling part of the entire room.

Looming overhead like a structure composed of pure malice stood a black door not that dissimilar in V's scant memory to that of the one that Malphas had trapped him behind during his bid to get to Vergil in the Qliphoth. The only major difference was that this door seemed to pulsate, the frame around it beating like veins pumping black viscous blood, thick with decay and death. A low dripping sound could be heard all around them, but the source was unseen despite how unmistakably loud it was. And with every moment that passed it almost felt as though they were standing within the lungs of some unknowable being and breathing in its exhaled carbon monoxide, the crack at the center of the colossal door oozing black dust, smoke, and soot. It was almost as though the door was breathing, a realization that eased the nerves of literally none of them as they stopped and seemed to collectively consider this.

"... The door is alive, then," V said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he took note of the black sludge that lined the floor. He registered for the first time the coppery smell to the air in the room, and he felt every ounce of blood in his body run cold. This was… "And it seems to be suffering. Wonderful"

"Makes perfect sense to me. It's the nightmare realm or whatever, right? Why wouldn't the entrance be total nightmare fuel?" Nero said with a shrug, taking his sword off his back to give it a once-over before they continued forward. He'd already checked his gun before they left, and his sword before he checked the gun, but now that he knew that the doors down here were capable of bleeding and breathing, it seemed pretty apparent that another check was in order. This had been too easy. This had to be a trap.

Slowly stepping towards the door with the utmost caution, Vergil extended his hand towards the door but stopped just shy of actually touching it, unwilling to place his bare hand on the unsavory structure. To say that the door was breathing was a correct assessment. It was certainly moving Or perhaps…

Jumping back and clearing about 20 ft of distance in the blink of an eye, Vergil placed his hand on the hilt of the blade at his side, threatening to draw Yamato from its resting place. Seeing nothing, the rest of them looked at him as though he had suddenly lost his mind but went on the offensive, ready to fight if he was.

"Or perhaps whatever dwells on the other side of that door… "

Before any of them could even begin to ponder that possibility, the hoking door before them creaked, its heavy metal screeching against the strain that it took for its hinges to shift into an open position, moving no more than a foot but still showing nothing on the other side due to the sheer thickness of the door. The blood-soaked floor sloshed viscera towards them in an unsettling wave, pooling towards an unseen drain point in the center of the floor just a few yards away from them as the stone floors below them shifted slightly to reveal glistening marble underneath the red massage. The faintest shadow of what appeared to be pillars on one side of the room was now visible to them, rows of them letting in a sort of lighter darkness that cast a shadow across the wide, vast room. The floor along the edges of the room seemed to be tiered in a sort of strange way, stairs that went to nowhere lining the edges of the floor like a sort of decorative border. And as he turned to look behind them, the stairs that they had used to venture down there were no more. The only thing that stood there was a vast, empty throne. And it was a throne that he had seen before.

And as if he had just been hit by a train, Vergil was seized all at once by an inescapable sense of dread. It had been a long time since he had felt this sensation. The architecture of this place now made much more sense to him. How had he not seen it before? How had he not realized where he was? This was one room that he would not forget regardless of the number of years that he lived. The number of years since he had been here. After all, how could he?

A sea of ankle-deep, all too familiar crimson laying bare his darkest and most intimate fears; reflecting his helplessness and his internalized failures. He had no idea how they had come to be here, and he wanted nothing more than to leave. Now. And as the shadow that crept over the dark room lingered over the throne, an outline of a skeletal figure could be seen. And with the faintest trace of his sanity now fleeing him, he swore that he saw a single skeletal digit quiver in the darkness before the head turned without moving the rest of its body and lingered upon him, the eye socket now devoid of light or purpose somehow seeing through him rather than looking at him, remnants of stone crumbling away as the being pulled away from its seat. It was like looking into the eyes of death itself, staring down into the abyss as it looked back at you.

This was what remained of Mundus's throne room, and every drop of blood that lined the floor below them had once belonged to the Darkslayer.

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In the immortal words of Trevor Belmont from the Castlevania Netflix anime: well shit. Can't wait to see what you think is going on XD omg, this creeped me out to even write. Yikes. Next week is gonna be super interesting! I hope you had a good week! See you on Wednesday and in the comment section if you have anything you'd like to say! Take care!