Chapter 9 – Whispers from the Past
Devon eyed her opposite silently over his skillfully assembled sandwich. She kept staring at hers for what seemed like ages without touching, or less than a move to her weary bones. Though she was healed, she could still feel that immense weight on her. As if someone was knowing, she wasn't meant to be alive and tried to drag her down. To wherever. And she didn't want to know.
Her body had awoken with a stiffness, nothing could cure up until now. Her skin felt taut, stretched, yet way to tight for her body to fit. The thought, that had come with it, she had energetically shoved aside.
She had been dead. What did she expect it to feel like? Devon was fairly sure,she knew this new soreness and overall uncomfortable feeling wasn't from the
"Aren't you gonna eat?" He sighed, putting his down to rest his head in his palm. "Didn't you say you were starving?"
Her gaze was fixed on the food, but her eyes had turned inward to only to be snapped out of her thoughts by Dante's voice. Without looking up she sighed deeply.
"He hates me."
Dante, not able to follow her train of thoughts, furrowed his brow. "Who?"
"Your brother."
Dante chuckled suddenly, making Devon's head snap up. "What, Verge? No, he's just a bit stiff. He's like this with everyone he doesn't know."
"Oh. Really?" She was baffled, how he could sound so happy about this. To her he seemed more than frightening. And she couldn't get the sword out of her mind, the way it rested there casually as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
"He's just..." For the lack of a better word. "...Vergil." As if his would clarify the whole matter to her, which of course it didn't.
"He really scared me." Devon focused her eye on him, seeing how he tried to smile.
"Trust me. There's nothing to be frightened about." He was sounding convincing, still Devon had the uneasy feeling in her stomach. The way Vergil had eyed her, as he discovered her healed injuries.
"He made me throw up." And with that statement came all the ridiculousness of it, bubbling up like a bottle up sparkling water, ready to blow up sky high.
"That he did." Her opposite nodded, giving her a strange look.
And then Devon laughed.. Loud and uncontrollably.
She burst into an half insane laughing fit, because there was simply nothing else she could do.
It was all too much and even Dante viewed her as if she had finally snapped. She covered her face with both hands, giggling like a mad lunatic. It was all so crazy, her head simply refused to work properly any longer and needed to vent some air.
Dante viewed her and that bubbling, contagious laugh and eventually he couldn't help but join in.
Watching him through her fingers, she laughed even harder. This was so appropriate like dancing at a funeral, but still it felt so good. She completely let loose, the tension, the fear, the questions.
If this was a dream, it surely was entertaining.
"Stop it!" He reprimanded through tears of laughter, but Devon just shook more. There was no sound coming anymore, she was just yapping like a fish out of water, hitting the table top with her flat hands.
Dante wiped his eyes, literally howling with laughter, she just looked too funny.
"What the hell's is wrong with you two?" The voice, not as cold as before, but didn't know if to sound amused or irritated, floated into her ear. It thoroughly helped sobering her up a bit, and the madness threatening to drive her insane subsided enough to cease the laughter.
"How you are able to laugh is beyond me." Vergil chided his as he walked in.
"What else am I supposed to do? I mean, look at me. Look at this whole mess. A good laugh is what was missing in this pile of shit." Dante explained, with a face splitting grin. Vergil scoffed, as he looked around, apparently searching for something.
Then he spotted the bowl Nero had prepared for him the day before and, like a normal being, snatched a grape stalk and gingerly plucked one to pop it in his mouth.
And in this very moment Devon realized something. He had changed clothes and as leaned against the counter chewing away on his fruit, bare footed and in just simple black slacks and a white v neck shirt, he looked so normal as to before. Yet so completely out of place with his air of arrogance and aloofness but at the same time fitting in effortlessly into the land house styled kitchen.
His blue eyes wandered from the fruits in his right hand to lock with her shocked expression for a brief second.
"Oh, right. I was about to think you lost your last bit of common sense." And to top it all, he just made a joke. Devon did a wondrous double take at him, which he deliberately ignored, but naturally deciphered easily.
Devon opened her mouth to gape, but as his eyes yet again strayed to rest on his brother, she knew he was talking to him. So, she fixed her stare back to her plate, and with her narrowed sight, his form vanished from her limited field of vision.
"Not at all." Dante concurred, picking up his sandwich to take a generous chunk out of it and chew it with a thoughtful expression. He became aware of the fact, that Vergil might have been eavesdropping on them, and surprisingly heard enough to make himself appear like a human being for once and not the swordsman that wished to be feared.
Vergil on his end eyed Devon openly, knowing he was in her blind spot, taking in her small thin frame. The way she sits slumped together, only eyes for his brother. He doesn't know, nor understands, but Dante always had a way with people and a keen nose for the needs they had. He was like a compass for those poor souls, calibrated only to find the most messed up ones in the labyrinth of misery the city had turned into.
Devon though nonetheless felt the sharp eyes on her, burning into her like blue flames. Strange enough though when she turned her face towards Dante's stoic twin, there was no menace tangible, only attentive watchfulness and a hint of curiosity.
"You do know what was happening, don't you?" That unsettling question came out of nowhere and seemingly out of context, yet Devon sighed to answer him truthfully. His voice had dropped and the sharp edge she had learned to fear had vanished, giving her some sense of comfort around him.
"I may be blind, but I'm not stupid." Came the funny reply, and Dante could only smirk. This was the voice of the girl he met, what felt like ages ago. His brothers approach was very much working, he guessed as well.
Vergil remained silent, shuffling his bare feet and swallowed another grape, eyes and face fixed into a benign neutrality.
He even refrained from the sneer he wanted to give her, yet he found himself surprised, when Devon had the audacity to grant him with a slight smile. Her voice softened with it, as well. "I think I understood. It was more like a feeling, not words." She said, and her hand clutched the fabric of the shirt, right over the spot where her heart was.
Vergil heard it thumping at a normal rhythm, which he found strange and somehow interesting. For the display of raw power, when she had killed that man, the woman sitting here and eating with Dante was indeed as placid as one could be. Despite that initial outburst, she probably didn't even cause. Whatever the reason, that was still a given with so much information she had to cope with.
"Hah..." She huffed briefly, ghosting her fingers over the damaged side of her face, barely touching the protruding scars. "Maybe I gained some knowledge with loosing one eye."
Both twins understood the metaphor. Whereas Vergil so much but quirked one eyebrow, Dante gave her an exasperated sigh. "How can you joke about this?" And Vergil saw, how it peeved his brother, despite the shared laughter from before.
He knew, that it had hit Dante hard, that he had almost failed on Vergil's account, to protect her.
Devon shrugged, focusing on her plate. "What do you want me to do? Sit in the corner and cry til kingdom come?" Her eye gazed at Dante, waiting for an answer he did not give. "What good does it do...It changes nothing. I could cry, I could throw chairs and I could tear the whole place down, but it wouldn't change a damn thing."
A freshly developed respect slowly sprouted within Vergil upon hearing those words easily coming off of her and bluntly stating the truth. There was reason in those words. And he could not detect her to be lying. She meant what she said.
"I suppose." It was all Dante had to say, before busying himself with eating again. Vergil, still rooted on his spot against the counter viewed her intently with some sort of respect, because everything, from her calm voice, over her earnest expression and her steady heart beat let him know, she believed this. She just knew. And accepted what cards fate hate thrown into her face. And somehow, it offered a form of solace for them.
"I really died, didn't I?" She asked quietly, not Dante, but him. Vergil folded his arms in front of his chest, dipping his head as he answered. "Yes."
Devon recalled the feeling that had coursed through her whole existence, when she had met Pesh.
She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to be able to look at Vergil for longer than just a second, as she released it. "I was afraid, that's why I didn't say anything!" She started to blurt. Trying to explain her reasons for her actions. After what Dante had told her he wasn't mad, yet still she had this urge to make him understand. And to let him know she wasn't a threat to them.
"I didn't know what was going on! But I swear, it never had been like this. Not at this rate."
She wasn't even sure if he was able to follow her train of thoughts, but that wasn't keeping her from babbling on. "I was scared. Scared, what you all might think. I mean, it's not normal, isn't it? So, I tried to hide it from you, until I could figure it out by myself! I didn't mean it bad!"
"Enough." It was one simple uttered word, but held power to easily let her snap her mouth shut. Dante's blue eyes burned into her, leaving her more breathless than her frantic talk. "What's done is done." He said with a shrug, before he gulped down his last bite of sandwich.
The eyes of his twin narrowed and Dante saw his jaw tightening, as he ground his teeth. Oh, snap.
"Dante." His name came as a warning, but his brother shook his head. "Vergil, no." He breathed, fairly desperate, enough to make Devon feel uneasy.
She quizzically looked back and fro between the twins, trying to decipher the meaning behind those unspoken words they clearly exchanged.
But Vergil ignored his brother, head inclined as he directed the inevitable question at the female, daring her to tell him another lie. This was her one and only chance to redeem herself to him, she wouldn't get another. "Do you know, what happened when you came back to life?"
Dante squeezed his eyes shut, as her mouth opened to speak, but realizing she only knew what Dante had been ready to tell her.
"Is it necessary? Is it really? It won't happen again! Look at her Verge! It's enough!" Dante snapped, because he knew, she shouldn't have to deal with any more of this. She suffered enough because of them. It was only fair, to keep it from her, and just try to look out for the signs if this should occur once again. And let her strained brain rest and digest piece by piece what information they choose to serve her.
Devon jumped at his outburst, caught off guard and very much astonished. Her head swiveled to Vergil, who yet again, showed no sign of his brother's words took any effect on him. To her, he did not so much but blink at the booming voice.
The more agitated Dante became the more icy cold Vergil turned. His unwavering, stoic expression did not change when he addressed Devon, leaving Dante entirely out of the conversation. "It's not his choice, or mine. Or anyone else's for that matter. It's yours." His voice changed yet again, it went neutral, non committal, empty.
And Devon suddenly became aware, she wanted to know. Just because he let her decide for her herself, she wanted to know what happened.
"What did I do?" She asked Dante, because he was the one apparently opting for hiding things. He avoided her dreadful eye and the awful scars on her face and turned his head away, refusing to look or say anything. He crossed his arms over his chest, chewing the inside of his cheek.
""If you stay, you need to know, you are a potential danger. We don't know anything for certain about the nature of this being. Angel or not." Vergil replied on his brother's behalf, and like he should have told her from the start.
Devon was flabbergasted, though she summoned the last bit of bravery she held, and held Vergil's gaze once more. She didn't want to miss the slightest hint in his expression, even if he as was hard to read as Dante. Or harder.
"You went into a frenzy, You killed. You or it inside you took revenge. Nero and I were caught up int the middle."
Devon stared and her whole world shrunk down to the exact moment when the crowbar had hit her head and she had fallen back against the wall. Before that, she knew she had been in trouble, but the hurt and anger and fear had fueled her defiance. The moment her mouth went on it's own, and her body got so far as to show them the middle finger, she had been done for.
And then she had met Pesh. And then she had felt Nero's hand on her and drank in his sight and the vast sadness in his blue eyes. And then nothing. Did Pesh do it? Did she do it? She had no answer for him.
"I can't tell what happened. I don't remember. Did I hurt you? What about Nero?"
Vergil gave her the faintest of smiles, again satisfied with her earnest report. "No, you didn't. And on Nero's account,it was not something he could not walk away from in the matter of seconds." He shifted from on feet to another, another grape found it's way into his mouth, before he continued to talk in his unimpressed voice.
And Devon knew, she couldn't read him at all. He was a stark difference to his brother. Whether he was mad or not, it wasn't to be guessed. He wouldn't let her.
He gave Dante, who listened in silence, but not looking away any longer, an approving look.
"Might be the vengeful soul of an angel. Might have been you. Either way, you stay, you watch your emotions. I sensed it back there, when the rider asked you questions. Don't let him overtake you. Or I'll kill you without so much, but the bat of an eye. Do we understand each other?"
Dante jerked forward and shot up at his twin's last comment. "Vergil! Stop it!"
Two blue eyes simultaneously widened. Devon rendered both immobile for second, Dante openly gaping , whereas Vergil again gave her this look of mild curiosity, as she nodded, looking glum, but voice was a solemn testimony to her consensus. "I understand."
And there was only one reason for Devon to comply. Because, veiled in his threat was a validated information for her. She would stay with them, if she could believe his words.
And with this, all the angst evaporated like a veil lifted from her eye. She could see for real now. She saw, that she didn't need to be afraid any longer. And that even if she was a danger, they would be the only ones being able to handle it. It was as certain and clear like that damn bell that wouldn't shut up, the remainder of time and time again that both their eyes rested on her.
It was her indicator for Pesh's acknowledgment. He was wide awake, she knew. He heard it all. And the deep complacent feeling spreading through her body was warm. Warm like a summer evening in a city of trees and green grass, that was swaying in the soft breeze. And a rich scent of sweet sweet, wild flowers by the wayside floated across the twilight sky.
Peace and comfort.
And the vast sadness and nostalgia was wrenching her heart, for she knew it was all in his memory. His memory of a home long lost to him. Never to return to.
Devon's breath hitched in her throat. The twins found themselves both enthralled and agitated at the same again. But there was no evident threat that hung in the stale kitchen air, but something their inner devils never knew.
And both had to fight back the memories, that came with that strange smell as her far away eyes flickered golden for a second.
Almost just like him.
Lucifer.
The first time when they had met the first and former ruler of hell, he too smelled so good. Too good to be true. And their devils had reacted in the same way. Purring, but stalking cautiously on the very edge of sanity, if it was to be taken away from them. It was intoxicating. And thus dangerous. And to be safe around for his scent smelled different to each being, plucking strings of the heart and calling up memories better to be buried beneath an immense pile of dirt.
But they both had learned over the years to control their urges. They snapped out of it almost immediately. Also because it wasn't as strong and surely not as deliberate as the the ability of the fallen angel, who had found this to be a sick joke no less. And a favorite past time to rile them up.
Both cringed and exchanged another wary look.
Dante knelt down in front of her, hand gently rubbing over her knee. "Dev? You okay?"
Her head slowly turned, bit by bit. Her sole green eye wide with a dilated pupil. A glassy orb, looking through him, brimming with emotion and unshed tears.
"Devon, get a hold of yourself." Dante whispered, as he felt Vergil's eyes burning on the top of his head. "You're doing it again." He warned in a hushed voice.
She blinked, the tear rolled down the side of her face, leaving her eye reddened and glossy. "I'm sorry..." She whispered. To whom she didn't know exactly. To the twins? To Pesh? To the world, she couldn't live in properly? Her mind traveled, what felt like eons, back to the here and now.
"I'm so sorry." Her voice cracked, when she repeated the apology only for them.
"It's alright." Dante said sheepishly and flashed her his thousand mega watt smile and the world was moving again. Only revolving around him, this time.
Devon wiped the back of her hand over her intact eye, struggling to zero in on his face properly, but finally was met with one of the brightest and most comforting smiles she had ever seen.
The smile, that she learned to trust from the very first second on.
Dante extended his hand, at first trying to ghost over the damaged side of her face, but refrained from actually touching it, for she shied away from the tips of his fingers.
He grabbed her hand instead. "You're gonna stay with us. You don't have to be afraid anymore. You're not alone."
Vergil watched, stirring uncomfortably, when the woman threw herself into his brothers arms, making them almost keel over. However, he couldn't help the small grin playing on the corner of his mouth, knowing from the start, with or without the changed circumstances, that this had been bound to happen.
The years in hell and locked away in his own sword might have dulled his emotions or his abilities to handle them accordingly, whenever they showed up with bared teeth and sharp claws, ready to shred away on his common sense, but they never had managed to dull his link to Dante. It had been decided from the get go. Even before Dante had actually come alive with the idea wittingly.
A loud crash interrupted the display of affection yet abruptly. Dante and Devon shot up simultaneously, with the hybrid taking a step forward to let her small frame disappear behind his massive form, standing at full height and high alert.
Vergil unfolded his arms, ready to snap his wrist and call for Yamato. But the spiked up flow of energy stalled him in his attempt. Dante sighed, as they exchanged a knowing defeated look. Shuffling noises and more cracks and dull thuds vibrated in the walls of the old house.
Vergil took a step forward, but Dante held his hand out. "I'll go."
"What's going on?" Devon asked in a small voice.
"Redecoration." Dante jested halfheartedly, but his face betrayed him , giving his brother an apologetic shrug, and made his way upstairs, ready to interrupt the ruckus Nero was causing in his room.
Devon turned towards Vergil, as Dante had left. "I can't quite follow."
But Vergil didn't do her the courtesy to give an explanation. This was too personal. And it wasn't his place to pry or tell. And he knew, Dante would have it under control pretty soon. Or so he hoped.
To Vergil's dismay, Devon was about to shuffle after Dante, but was stopped by the huge figure that stepped into her direct path, looking down on her with his weird eyes no less. But upon her sight, they softened.
War.
Vergil followed close, siding with her as she raised her gaze to look up the stairs, as if she could see, by simply staring upstairs, what the commotion was all about.
"The young one..." War started, but Vergil cut him off with a wave off his hand. "Dante is checking on him."
"I see. Well, your brother wanted to help us with our matter, he said he had something we should see and provide us with answers. Death is getting antsy. You don't want Death antsy."
"I can't help you with that, but I'm sure this will only take a moment." Vergil reassured the rider, who turned then and left for the attic once more. Vergil briefly wondered, what Dante had in mind, but it seemed Nero needed all the attention he could get before he would start to tear the house down.
Devon chewed on her lower lip, worry in her heart and a question on her face and the tip of her tongue. "What's going on?" And she made a beeline for the stairs, because she now knew it had something to do with Nero. Was it something she had done? Why he had left so curtly before?
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." Vergil glared, slight warning in his voice, which left her tingly with fear, but still determined enough to go and see for herself.
When she still moved, Vergil grabbed her arm, not forceful, but with enough pressure to to let her swivel around, realizing how serious this was. He shook his head at her. "Go back and eat your sandwich. By god, you can use it. Dante has it under control."
What exactly was it that had to be under control?
"I won't tell you twice." His voice turned deeper, along with the grip tightening on her bare arm. But Devon relented, because his expression took enough to convey the meaning, that this might be something personal and dangerous altogether, which required one of them to look after. And by the sound of it, few things weren't as intact as before.
Nero.
Maybe she was better off´with not knowing. And who was she exactly to barge in? So she lowered her head in defeat and the hand was gone as she waddled back to settle herself on the table in the kitchen.
And Vergil had a fair point, even if he could have said it nicer. But, like she was well aware it wasn't in him. He was blunt and direct in his methods and actions. Such a stark contrast to his brother.
With a hint of astonishment, she saw Vergil coming back in to join her.
Vergil went straight to business and set the water boiler and a tea can at the ready, before he fetched himself something to eat from the fridge. He could feel Dante in his serene red glow from upstairs and as his subconscious reached for Nero's aura, it had calmed as well, but only to make way for sadness. He huffed to himself, as he settled against the counter, feeling way to tense to sit down.
He open the drawer next to him, grabbing a fork, shifting the bowl from right to left, before he ate his fruit salad in an utmost dignified manner.
To Devon it was astounding how someone could eat so gracefully. It was the most ordinary and menial task, but he made it look like art, piercing three different chunks of fruit on the fork everytime it returned from mouth to bowl.
Despite that, she still started eating her sandwich, feeling like a pig compared to Vergil. And it almost made her giggle again, because she didn't even care anymore.
"What's so funny?" Vergil finally asked.
"Don't mind me...it's just all coming down to me. Still."
Vergil motioned pointed his fork at her small frame. "Figured. Still not scared?"
"Hah.." Devon huffed and gave him a brilliant smile, making her eye crease and twinkle. "Not at all. I know him. He wouldn't hurt me. The exact opposite to be precise."
Vergil estimated very much the same, tho moment he had touched her, he had felt that heat from somewhere inside. And the strength. It was a very old and powerful being for all he knew, but Death and his judgment were correct. It did not feel foul, if anything it felt serene. But his inner devil had howled upon the touch, simply because it's nature was so different from his own.
"So you can talk to him?" Vergil inclined his head at this new revealed piece of information. And the courtesy she was giving them in feeling answer the questions in honest.
"Not like you would think. Like I said earlier. It's more of a feeling. You can't grasp it and I can't explain, I'm afraid. It's just that this damn bell won't shut up when he's happy."
Vergil did a doubletake and it looked funny. "Bell...?" Confusion was written all over his face.
"It rings, every time. He said he awoke and that's where I started to hear it. At first it was scary, but then...then I met him and he told me a few things."
"Like, why it is ringing?" Vergil, very much pleased and feeling enthralled to get some answers without the rider's threatening presence, popped more fruits into his mouth, relishing those thoroughly and with a satisfied expression turned his full interest to the woman once again.
Devon chucked down the last huge bite of her sandwich, which was a lot chew on. She wanted to buy herself the time she needed to fix herself enough to let him of all people know. He wasn't Dante. Or Nero. They would have understood, but as reasonable as he seemed, he didn't give of the impression to be the kind hearted individuals they were.
But, it was based on that one situation and Devon chided herself, for giving in to assumptions so easily. She didn't throw second chances out like it was season sale, but she couldn't help but remember how bot Dante and Nero had reasoned with her about him. He was a lot different, but here in this very moment, he resembled his brother like no other time before.
Devon swallowed the last piece hard and put her hands to rest on her lap, wringing them in her the nervous fashion, that was typical for her. She couldn't look at Vergil either. Her voice sounded small, leaving him to wonder why.
"Pesh, that's his name, he awoke because of the way they looked at me. Their eyes."
Vergil furrowed his brow, more confused than ever, evident as settled his empty bowl down and crossed his arms over his chest, inclining his head and recalling his information so far.
Then it hit him. Of course. Knowing Dante for exactly who he was, it all made sense now.
"I do understand. I know Dante better than he knows himself. He eventually triggered it." Vergil took a straight, self assured stance in front of her astonished eyes. "Because he pitied you from the very first meeting on."
And Devon let out a small sly laugh, at how Vergil so easily encrypted it, compared to herself and the others. "That's right. But not just him. Nero showed concern, and it seemed it hit Pesh right into his sleepy face." She tried to joke, but when she saw, he didn't flex one muscle in his face, she quickly wiped the grin clean off her face.
"I don't know, what happened though when he brought me back. Usually, it's only lasting for a moment...and..." Devon halted slightly puzzled. If it's triggered with compassion directed at her, how then was it triggered back there?
Vergil stood stiff, as he quickly drew his own unsettling conclusions. And then, he felt like laughing. Of all the people, it was him to find her. And, if what they just established was the inevitable truth...
Oh, this was ridiculous.
But, he knew, why Pesh had reacted and had been able to save her. Because, he himself had felt sorry. Because, for a stinking street rat and puny human life, and as uncompelling as it had been, when Dante brought her along, all he could feel when he had seen her sunk down in the dark alley, alone in the rain and cold, it wasn't her fault. And Vergil knew. She didn't deserve to die like this. And that Vergil knew, as well.
He had to turn, to give his spinning head a task to focus on, which resulted finally preparing the tea, he forgot about, and gingerly fixed two cups. Though, she was seeping heat through her skin, which wasn't her own, her skin had felt cold and hard under his touch. As he put the cup down, she viewed him with her one eye, that bore right into him and he couldn't say if it really was her who was looking, or the angel residing and hiding within.
It gave him a tingle to his very bones.
And it wasn't as uncomfortable this time, as his blue devil inside wanted to make him believe in snarling at the oppsoite to his very nature.
For feeling nothing but his brothers existence, because the years of enslavement had left him numb and unaccustomed to the human concepts of either feeling, because he had no human side left, let alone a body and the heart that came with it, it would seem though he wasn't as dead as he assumed.
But everything not concerning Dante or Nero, because of all the shared suffering and loss, which made him feel close to only them, it was brutally ironic that he had been the one to give Pesh that catalyst of a feeling he so needed to preserve his host.
"Don't think too much about it." Vergil advised her with a stern look, hiding his inner turmoil under his daily face, constructed so carefully. "We'll work this out." And why the hell, did he feel the need to add this useless statement. It didn't suit him.
"You make it sound like it's easy and already done." Devon sighed, dipping her head to slurp her tea in a very childlike manner. The cup was way too hot to be touched.
"Yes, because we have to. Drink your tea. It will keep you warm."
And because there was no force between heaven and hell that was like Dante's. He was their beacon, because he always had a way to save the day. With as much mockery and bad attitude as he could produce.
Dante marched up the stairs with a heavy heart, studding dull behind his ribcage. He certainly did not feel up to it, to deal with this all over again. But he couldn't rely on Vergil to find the right words. And because he was like a blunted knife, driving the thoughts home a bit too violently sometimes, in a way that left you wounded emotionally for days. Or he wouldn't say nothing at all. And somehow Dante had the indication, that a simple sparring match, to take Nero's mind somewhere else and force him to focus, wasn't going to cut it this time either.
God, how often they had been throug and over this.
But, yet again, the boy ached harshly. Dante felt it echoing into every corner deep within his very soul, yet he still felt compelled to finally talk some sense into him. But at first, he would very much like to assess the damage done. To the room and to Nero.
He huffed, before he opened the door, but was met with slight hindrance. It wouldn't budge and through the crack, he quickly saw why. His inhuman strength forced it open with a single push, shoving the wrecked furniture aside, revealing a sniffing Nero sitting on the side of the bed. For the bed and sleeping arrangements it was good news, because it was still intact. But the bad news was, it was the only thing intact in this very room.
He felt it tug on his own insides. How he relieved that fateful day and all days before in that endless agonizing loop in his head over and over again. And he knew, it all had been triggered by Devon and her stupid angel inside.
Nero's demonic arm felt tingly and itchy still, when Dante showed up and without a single word, sat down next to him. He didn't want Dante's nagging or to feel Vergil's stare in the back of his head. And he certainly couldn't look at Devon any minute longer, wearing one of his shirts. And that stupid interaction outside left him angry at himself. Because he had enjoyed her prodding, delicate hands. And it made him sick to the bone.
And it had resoluted and overcome him and his room suffered the full consequences of his guilt and shame. He lowered his head, hair falling into his face to hide from Dante's eyes. The man just sat there, silent resilience and warmth, Nero didn't know he needed until this second. How Dante manged to calm him with onl yhi spresence was a mystery.
Yet, he nonetheless felt that sting to his heart, because it seemed like betraying and dirtying Kyrie's memory with all of his actions. The woman he had loved and he had to bury alongside her brother in Fortuna.
Nero clutched his chest. God, it still hurt so much to think about them, so most of the time he tried to not think about them at all. Keep it at bay, this dreadful feeling of the failure he was. How he could still get up and look at himself in the mirror had been a miracle.
And the touch of the woman downstairs was burning him. He could lie to himself, counting it as an simple act of trust. But he knew he would be lying through his teeth.
His devil bringer flared with the anger and frustration, feeling ashamed and disgusted at the same time. Too many feelings for him to cover right now. He always hated it, how his inner devil tried to overpower him, utilizing his feelings against him, making him go blind with it.
And of course the harder he tried to not think about it, made him think about t even more.
A failure.
He had been forced to discover this one day in Fortuna and when he had stumbled across Yamato, things which had set in motion far more earlier in his life, the katana made his whole bubble burst. Or rather what had been sleeping inside him for almost his whole life.
Yamato. The name he learned upon reuniting his demonic essence with the true owner of the most powerful blade existing on earth.
The infamous sword of the blue devil, his last intact fraction of his soul and power residing within. But how and why it had traveled to Fortuna couldn't be established. Trish and Lady had sifted through the Underground Laboratory for days and days only to come with nothing but information about the countless experiments that were conducted over decades.
It had been disgusting to read all this.
Hundreds of citizens and knights died to the first researcher, whose name was lost upon his untimely death by a rampaging demon horde, he created himself no less, but Agnus had despised the man and after he overtook the facility, he had stored all previous material away to start a whole new aspect of research of his own stone cold crazy mind. The former conductor had performed inhuman deeds until he had found a way to drain power from the sword with despicable rituals and infusing human souls to build soldiers that only the Order could command.
In the end Yamato had been the key. For it was far too powerful to be a simple devil arm. They soon discovered how to use it's power. Or so they had believed. And with the first attempts to merge humans with the essence of Yamato, the first demons were born. Though they were far from perfect. And they were wild and uncontrollable. Not easy to be killed either. Knights and researches had died alike, fighting those creatures defying the laws of nature. Wicked and sentient, they had escaped the labs, leaving mangled bodies in their wake. The island had become a treacherous area, and thus the knights were truly called to duty and action.
After many failed attempts to transfer the power only one individual had succeeded without malformations and seemingly human and demon molded into one being
An unnamed orphan survived and adapted to the power like no one before. Thus a new entity was born.
Nero.
His hair had turned white throughout the process and all memories prior to the experiments had been wiped out. He was not nearly half a demon and with no significant powers to be called forth yet, other than an accelerated healing rate and stronger physical traits than humans, but still a success. He had survived.
Unfortunately for the Order, after Nero's rebirth, the sword would never turn anyone else into a devil again. Simply because after unleashing it, it seemed like all it's powers had transferred to the boy and him alone.
Not shortly after he had changed, there had been a disturbingly loud, grating crack, resounding through the facility many times, accompanied by an ominous voice that whispered over and over until the katana had broken in half.
Never again, it had whispered. Since then, the broken sword had stayed silent and it's aura had been dimished to something that wouldn't even heat a single marshmallow.
They let Nero live and grow up. He became friends with Kyrie, which unknowingly benefited him greatly and so he was sent to a Knight Captain of the Order, Credo, who would oversee his growth and report anything unusual with the white haired boy.
Nero eventually followed his brother-by-choice's bidding and became a Knight of the Order as well. It would be very easy for his superiors to monitor his status and brainwash him until he would be fully grown and made into a fighter like no other.
Little did they anticipate his love for Kyrie, the brotherly bond that formed with Credo nor his personality, that turned out to be unrelenting and strong-willed, defying even to anything that believed itself in control or superior, with the urge to protect the two people he trusted only.
But he never changed nor did he respond well to their brainwashing attempts. Even as Knight of the Order, he showed little to no interest to the teachings. So, eventually, they concluded Nero wasn't what they had first assumed.
Nero became more and more harder to control and when he deliberately disobeyed orders and misjudged a dangerous situation he almost paid with his young life. But the demonic essence inside him wouldn't let him die so easily.
There was one incident, that changed Nero's life forever. And not only his life, but that of a many.
Nero in his stubborn routine, he displayed ever so often, went alone to hunt the creatures down in order to be the hero he so wanted to be. He wanted not only Credo's acceptance to his skills, but strived for acceptance by the whole city.
Nero never had it easy, because of the way he looked. He was different from the rest of the people. And those who were indoctrinated by the order to a never changing life of obedience and restrictions, couldn't suddenly understand nor appreciate the diversity that Nero was.
Only Kyrie and Credo were his pillars in a city that looked down on him. Even after joining the Order and holding a respectable rank, people still seemed wary of him. The contradiction itself, that the Order of the Sword was for worshipping a demon knight never seemed much interested in Nero's hardships. And his lineage was so heavy under overs, nit even Agnus knew the full story of this and the deeds of his predecessor. Not that his utterly narcissistic self indulged in anything beyond his own work. The only thing he wanted was to restore Yamato.
So, they created demons, using the townspeople. And then set them free, in order to have the perfect excuse, for more people to vanish, to fuel the relentless studies of Agnus and keep the knights busy. The Order made itself vital in it's existence, misleading the whole city to it's necessity and that one day their true Savior would come and rid them of the foul creatures roaming the earth. And nothing could have been farther from the truth.
The order continued to veil they true nature with layers of prayers and songs and festivals to ease the townspeople's mind off and let them believe what a beautiful life they had under all these teachings, rules and restrictions.
It was for their own good. Was it not for the dark knight Sparda, that they were saved and ruled by the ones whom Sparda had entrusted them to? The city indeed prospered and became fairly wealthy under the Order and never was anything amiss. Like a true, never changing corner of paradise.
And young Nero envied them for their carelessness, for in him he always had sensed something like an itch embedded deep within that he had never been able to scratch, let alone locate or touch, It had been bound to him revealing a restlessness, he never had known how to ease. So he clung to the only good things he knew and that gave him stability and purpose to his incomplete existence, Kyrie and Credo and the knights of the Order.
He became closed off and a loner, but still caught up in his own contradiction. Getting accepted by the people he so learned to despise.
So, the opportunities presented themselves fairly often, with Nero volunteering as first for whatever demon hunt was conducted. But in response to his attitude, knights refused to follow him, because he was not known for playing for team, but diverting it into competition.
And that fateful day had crept ever so closer, fate waiting for Nero jump in head first.
Kyrie and some kids were in the woods near the city and out of nowhere, some demons had attacked them. Kyrie managed to barely escape with the kids, but one still was lost. After reporting this to her brother in a panic, Credo ordered Nero to fetch reinforcement and then venture with him to kill them off and hopefully to find the last missing child.
But Nero had refused, on the prospect of defeating all those demons all by himself. The people would have shown gratefulness at last, bringing him yet again closer finally accepting him for the strong knight he was.
He had found the horde not far off the town and at first it went fairly well, but his still human body had quickly become exhausted trying to fight off such an inhuman and unwavering onslaught. After half of the battle he had alreeady started to bleed profusely, yet still had managed, thanks to only his iron will and determiantion alone, that had kept him on his tw feet, to slay them until one brute had remained.
It had been a vicious and snarling creature, red and black scales covering the entire body, with spikes protruding from it's back, that had him bleed everytime, when he had just so much as grazed them. A burning sensation, that seemed like some sort of poison, kept his wounds from closing and he kept bleeding until half his right side was drenched in his own blood. His unnatural healing couldn't keep up and he knew he had made the grave mistake to rely on that factor too much.
He had always fought with his strong right arm and his stance righted itself instantly and innately, always turning his sword and shoulder towards his enemy.
He would not let it defeat him. Angry growls had escaped him, as the pain had become stronger and stronger. He had to end it, because he had been on the brink off passing out already.
So with all his remaining strength he had assaulted the thing with killing intent, but blood kept spilling from his forehead and eventually into his eyes. And what followed had happened so fast, later he couldn't even really remember how it actually had happened.
He struck with his right arm lifting the heavy sword to crush and slaughter. And as he blinked his eyes to get rid of the blood, sparks flew from where he cut through the creature. A hefty swing to the slightly less protected midsection, with fewer spikes than on the neck and shoulders, had eventually cut the demon in half.
His sword had clattered to ground, his strength to hold it had left him in the end. But his triumphant thoughts quickly dissolved at the amount of blood that mixed with the greenish white slime from the demon's two body halfs.
The demon had anticipated his actions to some extent. It knew, that he would always favor his right arm to attack it. And would turn his body slightly away to protect it from too much harm.
Nero's eyes had fallen upon his sword on the ground. And suddenly the scene had become very surreal and he could feel how he slowly detached mind from body, because he had felt no indication pain whatsoever.
With dread he had heard the raspy snarl from the demon, which could also have been a snicker for all he had known.
It had looked at him with dimming eyes, on the verge of it's death. And that was when Nero had found out, that these demons were indeed sentient creatures and that they could learn to adapt to their attacker. To some extent at least and in his case, although it paid with it's life, the damage he received was far from favorable.
It had laughed at him with it's last breath until the utter malice, it had looked him up and down with for the whole fight, vanished completely. The dead eyes then had stared lifeless into nothing as Nero had fallen to his knees with heavy breathing, still trying to comprehend the picture before him.
His sword lay there, blunted, with remarkable notches and a significant layer of rust, building rashly on it's shiny blade where it had come in contact with that substance the demon had oozed from his skin. His right hand still held onto the blade. And this had been where his brain had ceased to function. It was not right. It could not have been there, when it had been here where it belong on his body.
And when his eyes and head shifted to inspect his right side, it finally came together. He had stared with the purest and deepest horrors ever experienced at the missing limb.
His missing arm,which still held the sword in it's respective hand.
The beast had ripped his arm off right at the weakest point. The joint of his shoulder. And with that last coherent thought he had passed out.
All Nero had remembered was that he had sunken into bottomless black pits, only to awaken to dark dreams. Nightmares of how he couldn't save Kyrie. And the more he had the same reoccurring scene, replaying on an endless loop, in his head until he had thought he would turn crazy with the vivid image. After countless repeats, he even couldn't seem to remember Kyries face any longer.
Or her hair, her clothes, her voice.
He had known it was all off from the very start. Different, yet his heart clenched with the exact same fear and heartbreak. Every time in his dream a demon struck her down, impaling her and leaving her for dead until a huge fire came to consume her lifeless form, he watched it like the first time.
It had always been the same dream, with Nero running along a corridor and chasing shadows of foul creatures, much like the ones he had encountered. Then he would always enter a dark room an dfin dhimslef all alone.
It had looked like a library, like the one he had seen at the HQ, but much older, dust had settled everywhere. The walls had been panelled with dark brown wood, but the rish brown dulled in front of his eyes. Other than that, it had felt cold and lonely. No fire in the fireplace and no one in there to actually start one.
His voice would yell on it's own accord, but he couldn't understand the words. And a woman would emerge, her long hair hanging past her shoulders and framing her obscured face. At first it was Kyries. Then he couldn't really see it anymore.
But after relieving this nightmare for what had seemed like an eternity, he had discovered,that the hair had been blonde. The white dress, which Kyrie often wore, had turned to a dark red one.
And then the fire place would light up and demons had swarmed the room, tearing him away from her. She would always tell him to go and save himself. And he would always refuse to leave her to die.
But before he could react, a demon would punch his clawed long fingers right through her, almost ripping her apart, leaving him with nothing to do but scream and scream.
Blazing fires then would engulf him and he was ready to die, only to feel warm hands grabbing him, he would swat them away. He wanted to die. With her. But these warm hands would drag him away. He thought of Credo at this. Credo, who told him to not leave him also. That they needed each other.
But somehow he knew, it hadn't been Credo. And that it hadn't been Kyrie either. Nor him.
Never again, it echoed deep inside of him. A voice so dark and sad. And lonely, it would break his heart all over, leaving tiny shard to cut profusely through his skin.
And with a startled yell, Nero had woken up.
From that day on, Nero's arm had regrown and changed. The power within had bestowed him with a way to fight off the Order and their manufactured demon army, which Agnus had created as he took over the research under their newly elected Holiness of Fortuna, shortly after Nero had been tampered. And His Holiness was not like the last. He was keen and interested in all the things, wanting to find a way to awake the sleeping sword together with Agnus. And with him he had the found right person to accomplish this. Ruthless and insane.
Nero's missing arm had been replaced by a demonic version. And a claw where a hand should be. Sharp talons, that could shred those who stood in his way to pieces. It was adamant to damage with weapons of any sort. It's scales doing more damage to swords than they did to him.
Injuries would heal at lightning speed, much faster than before, and not only on the arm itself, but his whole body had seemed to fully adapt to the awakened power within him.
At first Agnus had been delighted to hear of this from Credo, who still protected Nero from the Order, playing things down, but aware of the strife to have exactly this outcome, they had fought to accomplish for so many years.
But Credo had other plans and when Agnus finally had met Nero truly eye to eye, he hadn't been sure anymore. The white-haired boy had become a nuisance and under Credo no less, completely disobeying the Order. And when he had found out the truth, he even went so far as to opting to kill him.
Agnus thought he had the upper hand until Nero had paid him a visit and had reunited with Yamato. Literally.
Agnus had witnessed first-hand, that truly a real devil had resided within the sword all those years. And from this moment on it had used Nero as host, before again healing him on the brink of certain death and giving him the power to wield Yamato.
And Agnus had decided that the kid was much more trouble than he was worth. The Order then decided to get rid of him for good.
Reports about Nero's behavior had already come in frequently and he always had his suspicions in how Credo had been part of Nero's attitude. Credo made no big deal out of the fact that he held no friendly feelings towards Agnus, but he had been essential to the Order, so he tolerated him as much as possible. Until Yamato had been restored, from there on even Agnus existence had become futile. The goal had been achieved. And the Sparda blood had foun dit's way right into the midst.
But even Credo seemed more and more bothered by that smug personality Nero had developed with a more than an unsettling speed. He had always been one of the fittest and strongest among the Order, and Nero knew that, too.
In Credo's eyes Nero had been indeed a true Knight of Sparda, infused with devil powers, yet not really measurable.
But it would seem, Nero hadn't the right person to handle such powers. He lacked discipline and had not so easily heeded The Order and their manipulations, despite his youth and naivety.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Credo had wished he would have been chosen to inherit the power from the katana with the blue aura. Up to to actually accepting the order to kill him. But with Kyrie in the picture, he eventually had relented and had understood, the only one who could save his sister had been Nero.
Because Credo had seen, how deeply in love this so called demon had been with his sister, Credo had been realizing Nero would have done anything to protect her. And for Credo this suddenly, on the brink of defeat and betrayed by the very same Order he had trusted for so long, it all had become painfully obvious before he died in Dante's arm. So, with his final words he had pleaded at the hunter to save them both.
But, the disaster had been set in motion. Nero and Kyrie had been trapped inside that massive thing, they tried to keep at bay so desperately.
And Nero, on the brink of loosing it all, had come to terms with him and the devil inside that screamed at him to take his just revenge.
But it had been to late to save Kyrie.
The only thing he had remembered was how she had vanished into a cluster of tiny golden lights right before his very eyes. He had thought he had a dream, but later it had occurred to him that this had been their final moment.
And this self hate, that had erupted from the deepest and darkest pit of his soul at his delusional state. Instead of realizing the truth of how much he had failed her, he wasted their final moment to utter useless words that were devoid of meaning. And this became his burden.
It had been granted to them, because Kyries soul wanted to thank Nero for everything they had experience together. Of how he had saved her in the woods. And because he had loved her fiercely from the bottom of his heart.
So, when he finally encountered the reborn Holiness inside and defeated him, all that had been left was to find Kyrie. But she hadn't been there. And when he crushed and pulverized that statue which he plucked from the sky like a ripe grape of a vine, he lost control over his inner demon rampaging on his psyche for having to experience yet another grave mistake. Vergil inside him went nearly insane, having to endure the feelings of loss and guilt through Nero's eyes. Together they had wreaked havoc on the statue, obliterating it into nothing but wrecked stones.
And after the dust had settled and the Savior lay in marble shambles, Nero finally had collected the body of his dead girlfriend. And that had been how Dante had found him, after he had sealed all the gates and destroyed them forever.
And through the hours of grieving over the deceased Kyrie, Nero had felt that warm and strong hand on his shoulder the whole time. And the blue devil inside had been silent for the entire time.
If someone would have watched, never would they have witnessed Dante crack at the sight of the boy. But on the inside, he was fumbling to comprehend what Nero was. Who he was. Or rather, who he wasn't. But with all that cocky attitude, he was reminded at his younger self and Vergil's.
The biggest shock for Dante had been the discovery of Yamato and how it had empowered Nero to use his demonic essence to it's full capacity.
Throughout the whole time, something with Nero's power had seemed off to Dante, but he couldn't put his finger on it. But Yamato definitely had been the catalyst and key.
Nonetheless, he quickly had seen how Nero was a decent kid, brave and fearless, with skills that ended the Order and nothing less was on the boy's mind after he saw how the Order used him, Kyrie and Credo to use the devil arms in order to change themselves to more powerful beings. And to summon the hell gates, eventually leading to the destruction almost complete wipe out of the citizens, Kyrie and Credo had so selflessly opted to protect. All for nothing.
When he had ventured to the rural town, he had never anticipated this outcome. And he felt sorry for the boy who had lost seemingly everything important to his life. But Dante finally held Yamato.
Unbeknownst to Nero, Dante and Trish had found out what the Order truly was and had followed Nero to pursue their own agenda. To destroy the portals, with the help of Yamato.
Dante never forgot the feeling of admiration as he had found out how Nero was capable of wielding Yamato.
His still had more than half a human body and couldn't really unlock the whole potential. Nonetheless, Dante's hopes grew bigger and bigger with every passing step.
He had witnessed Nero using his version of the Devil Trigger and it had confirmed Dante's suspicion fully. Vergil was with them.
The whole time, he had tried to help Nero accomplish, what for him alone would have been close to impossible.
How or why, Dante could only guess at that time, but it didn't matter any more. Dante had shared a fair taste of Nero's true potential.
And when he had held Yamato, all the memories kept crashing down on him like a cataclysm, washing away everything else. Summoned by the sword in his hands, the memories had flooded his bruised heart with so much emotion it had been almost to much to bear.
So, when Dante had parted from a saved Fortuna, he had promised Nero to see each other again. But Dante needed time. Time and space for himself.
After the initial hope, all the regrets had set in. Why he hadn't been strong enough to protect Vergil. To find him sooner. To save him from whatever fate his brother had endured over the years of their separation.
He could still see him fall into the depth. That would have been the moment to save his brother. To snatch him by the wrist and knock some sense into him. To drag him back home.
Home.
Home is where the heart is and for Dante it held more truth than anyone. He had a home, but as much as he tried, he never felt truly at home, always missing his side of the heart, that had fallen into the depth alongside Vergil.
With leaving Fortuna, yet another big chunk had been ripped out of it. Somehow it had stayed with Nero, who had suffered for them a long time. And Dante had shown up like a hero, only adding to the boys already miserable life, and helped letting it spiral into hell on earth no less.
He felt responsible, yet hadn't been able to look him in the eye, out of fear what he might had come face to face with. Or might not. He made himself believe, Nero was safe as long as he had Vergil and Yamato to watch over him.
But not before long, Dante had kept his promise to Nero. And so much more.
After leaving Fortuna, he and the ladies had set out on a quest to finally gain the knowledge of the devil arms origin.
And they had found it faster than anticipated.
They found it In the oldest anthology existing between the worlds. It was nothing but a single room, but big enough to hold a library. It could be moulded into any shape and form, shrink and expand at will of it's sole owner. It was a treasure hoard of obscure rarities, not fit for the human world to deal with. It's inhabitant had always a good acquaintance from long ago, along with the Keeper he and Vergil had met so long ago, it felt like a complete detached and different life.
Even after all those past years, they had not seen each other, but the spark of an unbroken and deep friendship ignited once more.
Both had vanished after Temen-ni-gru. But after they had accomplished, what they had ventured out to do, Dante met them again.
Danzig always had exquisite timing and never tired of letting everyone know. So, Dante came to him with what he had learned and told him the whole story of him and Vergil. And Nero.
Danzig listened intently and grew more curious by the second. He immediately instructed the devil hunter to summon young Nero to Capulet City and that he should bring Yamato.
On Nero's end, things didn't go as well at all. After he had to bury Kyrie next to her brother's forever empty grave, the pain had become unbearable. His endurance had been rendered faulty by the draining presence of the vicious devil inside.
The Order had been obliterated and people viewed him with more suspicion than before, if that would have been even possible. Every look stung and pierced right through his weakened frame from anew and the last just hurt as much as the first. He stopped going outside altogether. He slept in a defiled heap on the kitchen floor, which was littered with trash, because he simply couldn't come up with a single reason as to why he should get up anymore.
Nero had suffered in all the dark and mortifying glory, it would provide to him. And in his twisted mind, driven to edge of insanity, he had believed he deserved every ounce of the heavy weight that crushed his heart in a deadly grip. And Vergil inside suffered with him. Over and over again.
Maybe it had been a mistake to leave Yamato with him, for the influence from the one inside the sword, had proven to become unbearable for Nero and it had been close to do severe damage to his soul.
Sharing the mind and body with something of this nature, turned out to be nothing less then a slow descent into madness. On both accounts. Vergil had been trapped for ages, first under Mundus in hell, who effectively had bound Vergil to Yamato, degrading the prideful devil into a mindless weapon and he had taken a sick pleasure in making him fight his own blood. Yet, after being freed from those reign his defeated soul had retreated into the sword only to be resurfaced by The Order and yet again bind him to another. And Vergil, awoken and shaken by this discovery refused with all his might.
And Nero had felt it slowly creeping up on him as his body had been threatened to get taken over by the entity, much too strong for one sword and one mind, and it had wanted out. And the voice, that never had stopped telling him of all the despicable things he had to do under Mundus, pressed him to evolve into a true devil and have a taste for himself. To shred the people who despised and hurt him so much. To slaughter them and make every last one of them pay dearly.
It had echoed at first as a commendable whisper in his soul. But it had been not long before he heard thedevil inside him raging in all his frenzied glory and mind frayed at the ends, to be freed. To become stronger than before. To get more power or else the devil would crush everything and everyone in their path, leaving Nero only as impassive bystander if he should not heed his command.
Nero, afraid to completely loose control, had departed from Fortuna, knowing full well he would turn into a menace eventually. He couldn't trust himself any longer around people. He had become a danger to every last one coming to close to him. He too wasn't the same anymore after all that had happened and he feared he never would be.
Without Credo and Kyrie, Fortuna had become nothing more than any other town. Empty and devoid of value for the broken heart, wishing deeply to be fixed and made whole again, yet knowing and despairing at the thought of the impossible goal never to be achieved.
And when Dante met with Danzig, a lost and degrading Nero happened to almost have arrived on his doorstep. A depressed and lonely kid who wanted nothing more than to feel that hand on his shoulder once more, craving for touch that did not hurt his body. Someone, who would tell him it would be alright someday. And in the back of his mind Vergil kept nagging on him forever a day, but when Dante came into view, it changed from menace and carnage to vast sadness and fear.
Danzig showed much concern for Nero's symptoms and developed a procedure to separate Vergil from his unintentional host.
No one could exactly had predicted the outcome, but between all that assessing and planning, Vergil's devil would threaten to rip Nero apart emotionally and physically, if they planned to transfer his beaten, battered and endlessly tortured mind back into the sword.
So they had established, they would need a human sacrifice. A decent human shell fit for Vergil to overtake. And in all his years, Dante never had deemed himself capable of killing a single human being. So Dante objected, knowing he denied his brother the only possibility. But, he wouldn't bring Vergil back by taking another life, fearing for the unknown effect in kiiling someone for the sake of his brother alone, which would have peaked in selfishness, Dante held no respect for, and he wouldn't want Vergil's existence would be tainted with coming back to life on account of that feeling forever.
Dante wouldn't allow it.
Nero's ongoing torture by Vergil though had ended the argument between student and mentor fairly quick. And Danzig had come up with the ultimate solution. And it was genius, for it would actually take two items, which they already had.
Vergil needed to stay a devil arm. The problem was, that he had never been fully subdued and his will had been too strong for the ritual to be concluded forcefully and inflict damage to his already weakened soul that would not be undone.
He would have to accept his fate, if he wanted to stay who he was. His strength wouldn't falter, but he would forever be cursed by this. Bound to Yamato and bound to an owner, who needed to defeat him in battle. A real fight of life and death no less or the incantation wouldn't trigger at all.
Only then he could truly find peace and still exist and take form whenever he liked. With the only difference, that he would not have a human body anymore.
The night after Danzig's revelation, Nero was fast asleep. And Vergil took the opportunity to summon his remaining strength to overtake Nero's body and even briefly appearing as his old self.
He visited Dante and they talked for the night. No one found out what was spoken, but it concluded in two brothers, reunited for good. Vergil told Dante his story. What he had done and why. He laid himself in front of his brother. Knowing, if the ritual would not go as planned, he would fade forever. So, this was practically his last chance.
The ritual was performed under Danzig's supervision and after days of uttering words in languages forgotten or voices harsh and violent enough for human ears and minds to make them suffer severe physical damage, it was completed.
To their utter surprise, Nero came out unharmed and seemingly unchanged. It would appear the bond between Yamato, Vergil and Nero had been stronger than anyone thought and the raging devil of Vergil was kept in check during the process. But after all, deep down they shared the same feelings and were indeed similar to each other.
Nero shared Vergil's guilt and hurt. He was the one to truly see and understand what was deep inside. Now Vergil seemingly had two brothers. One by blood and one by heart. A heart he longer owned, but still could feel the faint compassion to everything of what Nero had to endure. And it reminded him of hi sown past. They had been so young and so innocent. And Nero too was innocent and shouldn't have suffered as much as he did. He deserved far better.
Ultimately, the brothers had to fight one last time after the ritual and his defeat bound Vergil permanently to Yamato and his existence was cured and reinstated to it's full extent. Vergil still was Vergil. And the bond the twins shared became stronger than ever with the established link of master and weapon.
It is said, twins could feel what the other had experienced. Danzig had half joked, how it was actually profitable to the ritual, that they shared the same kin. The same blood. The link would not break unless they wanted it to. But that couldn't be an option, for as long as Vergil wasn't provided with a new body. And even then, it would pose a great risk, because hell knew every single one of their former inhabitants. And it never forgets nor let it dues be unpaid. The only thing that protected Vergil's soul was Dante. Because Vergil's soul was his and his alone to command.
Nero eventually asked Dante to be allowed to stay, because he saw the purpose behind Dante's doing and offered his powers to help and because beyond the doors of the Devil May Cry, Nero knew nothing of the world. His only constant had shrunk down to two person alone, who tool pity in Nero's fate and provided him with not two, but four hands to get back to his feet. Naturally, Vergil stayed with his brother, as well. So the family had grown yet again.
There still was one or the other bump down the winding road to grow into the tight knit hunter family they would eventually become, but Trish, who could of course relate very much and especially Lady were convinced by Dante, how the circumstances had changed them all.
How Dante and Vergil fit perfectly together like the two sides of the amulet.
And the two brothers made a promise to each other, that it would last until the end of time.
The same link had been formed between them and Nero,because of the power that had been used to alter him into a hybrid as well. Making him one of the Sparda family, by heart and will.
So, in the dark and destroyed room, Dante could only sit and wait, providing the stability, Nero's dithering devil needed to calm down and comfort him with his silent radiating warmth for as long as it would take.