OMG OMG OMG OMG. The amount of reviews I'm getting is incredible. THANK YOU ALL SOOOOO MUCH. Wow. I never thought this fic, or anything I'd write would ever be this popular, but I guess I've been proven wrong. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. I'm over 100 reviews and that is so incredibly awesome. I was striving for that with at least one of my fics and I'm glad it was this one. I really enjoy writing it and I'm seriously gonna try not to cop out on you guys since I've been told in a lot of reviews that this is "the most kick ass fic on the site" or some such. Not sure that's entirely true but I'm not gonna disagree either when it feeds my blazing ego. cough

Ok sorry 'bout the somewhat excited banter but well, I'm overjoyed. Biggest thanks to any and all who have ever reviewed this thing. Please don't stop. I adore you guys.

So without further ado

Here's the next chap

Enjoy

One Will Fall Chapter 10: A Sign To Attack

Vergil was left in a state of utter confusion and near horror after his master had so forcefully told him to strike him down. He could not be sure by Mundus' tone whether it had been put out as a dare or an actual command. And being unsure of how to react to the words, he simply stayed silent and kept his shocked gaze to the stone floor, hoping the Darkness would give him further direction or at least laugh at his bewildered and frightened state.

There was no way Vergil could take on the Darkness and he knew it. He had always known it, and so had Mundus. It was one of the reason's why the dark twin loathed his brother. He hated that Dante was so carelessly cocky and able to stand up to anything, including the Dark Lord himself. The devil hunter was much like his father in that respect and Vergil felt like an outcast because he could not live up to the Legendary Sparda's reputation as his twin had. Instead he cowardly remained true to the Darkness so as not incur his wrath. He watched from the shadows as his brother basked in his glory while he wallowed in his defeat. And he never forgot his failure on Mallet Island. He would not let himself, and nor would the Darkness. It was something to always remind him of his weakness.

In fact, every time the hazy images of the battles fought with his brother passed into conscious thought, Vergil found himself mechanically grinding his jaw and breathing harshly through the tiny gaps of his teeth. He couldn't help himself and the rage the memories brought with them. And his angry fits happened so often throughout the long year that the sight of red before his eyes had almost become his constant vision. It had only intensified recently when he'd finally confronted his brother. He was always succumbing to the incredible heat simmering through his body as his anger boiled his blood enough for him to feel that his veins would burst. He was fed up of the sensations and he knew he could only end it by ending his brother. Once Dante was dead, the pain and anger would melt away and be replaced by the sweet taste of victory that had avoided him all his life.

The encounters with Dante were not pleasant times to revisit over and over again in sleep and while wide awake, but Vergil could not help them coming to the surface. Though watching the reruns of his defeat in his head was nothing compared to the embarrassment of being related to the one who had taken him down so many notches in such a short time, and to hear the praising voices calling out for their hero—the son of Sparda. It always amounted to dizzying anger whenever Vergil thought, or heard that title. And it hurt all the more because he knew that the label never referred to him.

Vergil was only a Sparda by likeness to his brother. He felt and strongly believed that there was no way he could be the real son of the Legendary Dark Knight, not when all he felt like was a pathetic clone of his famous devil hunter brother. Vergil himself wasn't even known. Never once had the underworld been in an uproar over the pathetic second to the great Darkness. Never once had he ever heard his name even mentioned, yet it was he, Vergil, the outcast spawn of the Devil Sparda who had the honor of standing beside—or rather, kneeling beside Mundus as he commanded the darkness from the netherworld. Hardly anyone knew of the devil Nelo Angelo. And it was the saddest thing for Vergil to think of that he didn't even have enough of a reputation to tarnish with his past defeats. He had rarely gotten and no longer expected to hear praise. Admiration was reserved for the best. And clearly he was not.

All the powerful blood that had been passed down from his father had apparently skipped Vergil entirely. Maybe Dante's jibe at him had actually been the truth. Perhaps they both could not be powerful. Maybe there hadn't been enough strength to spread between both white-haired twins. Vergil honestly believed that now. And he therefore concluded, that instead of having two moderately powerful children, it was somehow decided that creating one supremely powerful twin in the image of his father, and copping out on the second to form the poorest excuse for a devil, was the best possible solution his parents could come up with. Vergil felt that he obtained his weakness from his mortal mother since there was nothing left for him to be given by his father, and that was the reason he felt nothing for her and would not grieve in the slightest for her death. Good riddance and thank you for bringing me into this hell was all he could think to say of his mother's passing. Thinking of his father was not worth his time and it only made him seethe.

He was never endowed with any special powers, besides the ability to transform into a devil. All the strength he knew came from his time in the Darkness' shadow and clearly that had not been enough. He had thought it had been…and then he had run into his bigheaded—bigmouthed brother. This was why he clung to the darkness more than anything now. He needed more power. He needed something to back him up—Not that his constant position at Mundus' side was not also out of fear of his dark master, but he tried to tell himself that it was more for the power, otherwise he would become more depressive at his seeming worthlessness. He stayed in the underworld out of fear and out of self-pity and the desire to become something stronger than he was. Mundus had always seemed a gateway to the power he longed for.

He was yet to get all he wanted…

"I said strike me down, Nelo Angelo."

The voice of Mundus snapped Vergil out of his momentary lapse into self-loathing. He still didn't know how to react to his master's words and again opted to do nothing at all but kneel and look pathetic.

What the hell was he supposed to do anyway? Rise up and get his ass blown apart or stay quiet and hope that it was all just a cruel joke. He strongly hoped for the latter.

Steaming breath rushed past Vergil's face like fiery vapor as Mundus huffed angrily towards him and his stoic figure.

"Did you hear me Nelo Angelo? Or are you merely ignoring me?" the Darkness fumed.

Vergil shook his head feebly. "No master." The only words he could manage.

"No what?" Mundus inquired, anger and annoyance continuing to rise. He narrowed his eyes as Vergil chanced a peek at him from below his lashes. "Well?"

"I…I don't understand…My Lord," the dark twin added as an afterthought,

"What is not to understand?" The aggravation was clearly laced in Mundus' voice. "I told you to attack. Do it. You wanted my power. I am presenting would with an opportunity. I am basically placing myself at your mercy. Do not tell me you cannot face me now. Now after all your scheming and your treachery."

Vergil blinked, wide-eyed. He'd already told Mundus that he had no desire for his power. Did he not believe him? He thought he had sounded pathetically convincing enough. Or maybe this was a test—Yes. It had to be.

"No My Lord. I will not attack you." Vergil hesitated for a moment as he felt, rather than saw, Mundus' eyes flash at his refusal. "I don't wish for your power. I do not want it. I only wish to serve you," he added quickly. Technically it was a lie. He realized that now. He did actually want the Dark Lord's power to use against his brother, but he also knew that he was quite incapable of getting it himself.

Mundus paused for a good while again, taking the time to scrutinize the cowering devil. He was not entirely convinced and he knew deep down that Vergil did in fact yearn for his power. Who would not in his place? All evil was at his fingertips and he was incapable of nothing—the one exception being the defeat of a certain cocky devil hunter, but that matter would be fixed in due time. His word was law and all feared and knew his name. There was absolutely no one in the world and underworld that could refuse this power were it offered to him.

Do it

Vergil looked up, hearing a voice. He thought for a moment it had been Mundus but the Dark Lord still seemed to be silently contemplating. Then was it his own? No. It didn't sound right. No. He knew his own voice. He had not said those words, not even in his mind. Then who?

Do it

The voice repeated and Vergil was certain that it was not his voice, but it was inside his head. There was a sharp prick on his neck again, similar to the one that had struck him before Mundus had returned him to the underworld.

Do it

Do what? He asked himself.

Do it the voice returned, a silky tone.

Vergil narrowed his eyes. Who are you? What is this? Get out of my head.

DO IT the command was getting more forceful and suddenly Vergil's neck was burning furiously. He reached back, feeling like he was on fire, and touched flesh. It was ice cold and yet he was wincing against the heat.

Do it. Do it. DO IT

Do what? But there was almost no use in asking the question because the half-breed's body answered for him. Without intending to and much to his terror, Vergil stood and flexed his fingers around the sword that suddenly appeared in his fist. His body swayed and he felt intensely dizzy as the flaming feeling on his neck continued, but he was soon lost to another world where his body moved of its own accord, stalking threateningly towards the enormous form of Mundus.

While his mind screeched for his feet to stop, they wouldn't. And before Vergil could stop himself, not that he was able to, he leapt up and slashed his sword down at Mundus. Unfortunately the Dark Lord had been far from unaware of the coming attack and placed a shadow shield around him. Vergil's sword hit the barrier, sending of blue sparks and he was blasted backwards by a second force, a beam of red energy shooting from the Dark One's eyes. Vergil hit the ground with a dull thud and knew that this was the end. Whether Mundus had told him to do it or not, Vergil had attacked the Darkness and he would pay dearly for it, if not, and more than likely, with his life.

Just so none of you freak out. This is not the end of Vergil. I wouldn't knock him off before he gets a chance to see his brother again. Their interactions are too much fun to write, so I won't spoil the opportunity for myself.

This IS however, the end of this chapter, as it is blatantly obvious by you all scrolling down to the bottom of the page. I'll try to have the next one up soon and you all get to find out what becomes of this intriguing new development with Dante and Maj and what happens to Vergil.

Keep those reviews coming!

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