Dante put the journal down for a moment, and let his mind wander back to Mallet Island.

That place had almost killed him more than once. Between the possessed marionettes, and the various Sin and Death Scissors, their higher relatives the Sin and Death Scythes, the other higher demons who'd shown up to end his life prematurely if they'd had the chance. He almost didn't make it out of there alive.

One of the skulls mounted on his wall on his office was the skull of a Death Scissor. The ram like skull had blood dripping off it still. Dead but not completely, its evilness kept the blood running.

He decided to go downstairs to mind the phone after all. This was giving him a headache again. To think of all that had happened there.

Once back at his office, he stared at the dark wood paneling covering the walls, at the wood floor with the runic circle painted on it toward the center, the drum kit he rarely played now. Too busy. And no inclination. He looked toward his various trophies he'd tacked to the walls by various means, swords, daggers, nails, whatever sort of sharp implement he could find to hang them with. Beyond trophies, they were symbolic to him.

His sworn vengeance to send whatever it was that had taken his mother and brother from him all those years ago, back to whatever part of Hell had spawned it.

He stretched to loosen the tight muscles in his back, and felt the tension start to ebb. He looked at his own perpetually messy desk, the pizza boxes, notes scattered hither and yon, and sat with a tired sigh at his chair and assumed his usual position. Boots up, and chair tilted on the point of going over. Never one for doing anything by half measures.

He looked at the neater desk of his comrad, partner and constant reminder of what he'd lost. And wearily closed his eyes, to consciously tamp down that feeling of loss that he perpetually carried with him. Although he'd taken his vengeance upon Mundus for destroying his family, it somehow never seemed to remove that empty space in him.

He was a young child when they were taken from him. He could do nothing to save them then. He couldn't go back in time, knowing what he knew now, to bring them back. Nothing could be done to change the past.

He knew that. But wondered sometimes...

The phone rang, bringing him out of his maudlin reverie. Time to go to work again.

Checking his own handmade guns, Ebony and Ivory, he grabbed his sword and left the office.

Once he came back from this latest call, he went directly to his room, and picked up the journal again. Now his curiosity was peaked. He'd read over half-way through it, and found some things that disturbed him.

But like a good mystery novel, he really didn't want to read the end of it to see the answer before he'd read the entire book. He opened it to the last page he'd read, and this time sat in the chair beside his window. He knew he wouldn't be disturbed, and wanted to finish the reading of this journal. He settled down and started...

Entry 14:

The human has managed to pass the trials of the Sargassos. He is making his way back for the Pride of Lion. Once he acquires that artifact, which he will. The Phantom will not allow him to keep it.

I feel a sense of...Disappointment. It will not be myself facing this human, but another with far less skill and finesse than I. I would have looked forward to matching wits with this human. His skills are worthy of one such as I.

I shall go back and observe the battle. He knows nothing of me yet. He may never know.

Entry 15:

Indeed the man possesses great skill. He has defeated the Phantom, this time, but Phantom grows in power with its rage that a pathetic creature such as this human should have bested it.

I await his finding the Melancholy Soul. It is his next challenge. Once he has found the sword, Death Sentence to unlock the artifact, he will have it. I must keep him from going any further, were he to find the Guiding light, he would be further ahead in this journey. I may have nothing to concern myself with however, for a Shadow guards the entrance into the tower which holds these things...

He has skills indeed. A worthy opponent, I now have my chance. The human defeated a Shadow, but...Now, he must face me. I look forward to pitting my skills against one who has the same skills as I. But he has not my power. I plan on fighting him fairly, that is my way.

Until later...

Entry 16:

My head is pounding! I have no idea what happened. I remember I was ready to deliver the coup de gras, but...Then, I was gone. What has happened? This is all very strange indeed. I remember nothing from that moment. I must try to think.

I know my Lord Mundus is displeased with me. Why? I would have stopped the human, had I a chance. I was taken from the battle before I could kill him and send him to his afterlife.

I must try to remember what happened. Perhaps this human has powers beyond our expectations? I do not know.

I do remember he is a fighter of some great skill. He also has some powers, not like my own, but...Something strange. I have a sense of familiarity, something is nagging the back of my mind. My head keeps feeling like it wants to split open the more I try to think. So for now, I shall give up the endeavor.

I have no idea what the human is doing, where he is going now. I do know, he lives. Somehow; even now, I still sense his presence. Which is very strange indeed.

Entry 17:

I have decided to go away from the castle for a short while to think. It seems the further away I am from it, the more clear my thoughts become. I remember the battle with some detail now. I saw him, through the mirror. I remember walking through, he spoke to me. He is either a very courageous human, or a very stupid one. He had the audacity to speak to me. Does he know what he faces? He must, which again, is odd.

How would a mere human know of Dark Knights?

I have something in my hand right now. As I look down, I find I am holding the amulet I've had since...I cannot remember when. It is important to me for some reason. I have no idea why, but it seems I cannot let it go. I have carried it with me for longer than I remember. There are words inscribed upon the back of it, "Vergil and Dante." Those words mean nothing to me. I have often pondered the reasons why I feel such an attachment to something so insignificant as this. Alas, I do though. Perhaps it has some power, and that is why I've kept it with me.

I feel something. Like a thought trying to come into the foreground of my conscious mind. It is all so confusing to me. I can see the castle from where I sit. It is...Foreboding. Odd, I've never felt such a thing before. I must go now. The more I try to gather my thoughts, the worse the confusion is becoming.

As I stand and look upon the castle one more time, I sense something...I must go.

Entry 18:

Trish has come to me. She has told me of the human defeating the Phantom for the final time. She has been sent to send me warning. I must keep the human from taking the Chalice to its rightful place. IF he should make it that far. First there are far more trials for him to pass. One being Griffon. I still have a dislike for that creature, but his loyalty for our master is unsurpassed.

I suppose that is the reason why Lord Mundus has chosen him to challenge the human. IF he should defeat Griffon, then I will have to make sure the human goes no further. Though I keep feeling this sense of foreboding...

I have no idea why. It is as if...As if, something is wrong here. I have no idea what or why. I just know there is something not right in this situation. And alas the more I try to find some reason in this, the more my mind becomes clouded with random thoughts and illogic. I am a logical being, I dislike dischordant thinking. I must...Oh my head! I've never felt such pain. But...

The one question that keeps coming back to me is this: How does this human know of Dark Knights? No humans do, unless...He has powers. Is it possible? Is he truly the son of Sparda?

If so, that would explain why he knows of us. But strangely, I would not think a human woman would know enough to...

This is becoming a trial.

I could write of other more mundane things, and as my thoughts turn toward that line of reasoning, I find it does not hurt to think as much, but as I sit here and feel my head trying to explode...I have removed the helm, in hopes that it will allow me to breathe easier. Perhaps I can think more clearly.

I can take pain beyond anything humans can. I can heal quickly. But this is unimaginable, excrutiating, even for me.

The human can wield swords as well if not better than some of my own kind. Perhaps...Perhaps, his mother knew far more of his father than I had expected. And his powers...They are indeed those of one who is quite like I am.

His fighting style is astoundingly similar to my own. That is the oddity that stands out. I have a style quite unlike others of my race. It has been said, it is much like...Sparda's!

Could it be? Might I too be related even distantly to Sparda?

How could that be? Sparda had no kin. His only surviving blood is possibly in this human who even now is approaching the place where the Chalice resides. I must go. I must not fail this time.

Failure could well mean a far worse fate than anything I've since faced.

Lord Mundus is becoming angry with me. I failed the first time. I must not fail again.

I must clear my mind of these confusing thoughts. I must...

Until next time...