A translucent haze is all he could see as he stared into the dark sky, as if he were slowly going blind while the heat waves made it less visible once his head turned to its side. Once he was able to recognize his entire body, the true pain had set in from all that had passed, as the muscles ached with such intensity, he was sure that more than just battle scars and bruises had occurred. He dared to turn to his right side, groaning as he did so, but fought through it to land on his stomach.

Not wanting to breath in any more dirt than he already had, the young hybrid positioned his beaten arms to push him upwards, only to fall back down and face the earth once again. Though his powers would have been enough to heal him to a point, he was now sapped, and his supply of energy enhancements were exhausted, lost in battle, or broken before they could be used. If the demon were still in the area, it'd be the least of his problems.

Now, the fire that had once been small tufts had become a fury towards the once beautiful landscape, creeping its way to a living, breathing casualty, who would find the strength once again to rise to his feet, and try to walk to where the fire wouldn't reach him until he was ready. It was on his feet, that he saw the culprit, standing in the fire as if he were born from it, with a strong stance as if all he had done to him was in his imagination.

Dante saw the creature raise his arm into what appeared to be a guarded position, but when it extended, something flew threw the air in his direction. He caught the item, and though felt what it was, couldn't believe that someone out to kill him would offer such a possible trump card. Dante looked at the item, as it was the last of his supply of white fluid he used to regenerate his powers, but not his physical ailments.

"You know what this'll do, right," Dante groaned as loud as he could.

"You have proven yourself many times over to me," the demon bellowed. "Few mortals have lived coming from the world my hands have taken them. Not all can only dream to be like us, the heretical union of Hell and Man. We are the same, you and I, and we are not alone."

Dante spat on the ground at his claim, as he clarified, "The only thing we have in common is that our fashion sense ain't getting' us into the club. Quit stallin', asshat. Stop boring me and finish the job…if you can."

The demon grunted into a laugh, as the enveloping fire then separated and revealed the monster, his skin bloodied and torn as Dante's. It was as if he had given up hiding all that the young half-breed had worked for, while cursing himself for underestimating the rage of a man driven to survive, not just to fight. He stared down the platinum blonde hunter, while he looked back at him, as his powers resurrected, clearly faster than his health. They saw in each other's glowing eyes that whatever was to occur next, would be the start of a final assault, and in each of their minds, they saw themselves walking away the winner.

The demon revealed the extent of his blinding speed, appearing closer to Dante, but was far from out of his image before the hunter was stuck once more from behind, which had just begun to heal. Though his screams overwhelmed his senses, Dante quickly turned around in time to see the next attack, as the demon charged a left handed side chop from behind himself. He ducked under the maneuver while igniting the holy, though latent power passed on from Beowulf into a single punch that connected with the entire left side of the demon's face. The vivid flash alone blinded the fighters, but it was the demon that had to face not jus the pain, but the sudden erratic move passionately brought to his attention.

"How did you possess such light, knowing what you are," the demon screamed, feeling the holy energy crawl in his wound like acid.

Dante answered with consecutive attacks covered within the same energy, so that the assassin could be blessed with the vengeful force of whichever spirits were on his side at that moment. The next punch Dante was hell-bent to deliver was suddenly cut short by a powerful kidney shot the demon managed to throw, even with his vision still impaired. He didn't even land on his knees yet, before the demon went to work on his face with as much strength as he could, before loading up one last shot that was determined to simulate Dante's divine technique from before. The punch made its home onto Dante's right side, sending him to the ground once again in a harrowing and vulnerable position. The fiend heaved his chest, for he had not felt this level of pain before, and it was undoubtedly due to the saintly wrath that poisoned his once tough body.

"As I mentioned before," the demon bellowed, "you've proven yourself worthy of my respect. But now, you've proven yourself to be more than just a stranger of equal interests and milieu. You are a threat to my existence, and a stain to those that would rather embrace their demonic fortune, than to squander such power to favor whatever god you wish. You must be cleansed."

The fire that danced along the grassy plain was taken by a sudden gust of frigid wind that encircled the very spot the demon stood, who had his arms in front of him with fists clenched and his broken face again still. Dante saw his approach, aware that as the wind grew colder from the spirits that the demon had summoned, and his aura grew a darker red during his travel, he could soon meet death in a way he would have never predicted. The closer the demon came, the more Dante could hear him muttering a repeated sentence in a Japanese tongue, but of the little he picked up from his previous dealings here, the only words he could decipher with certainty were "hell", "raging", and "murder". The wind grew stronger and colder, the spirits more audible and bloodthirsty, and the demon's face became that of hideous bliss. Dante, knowing that the moment was long overdue, looked at his assassin one last time, before closed his eyes and clenched his fists, thanking the gods that the assailant fell for his trap.

The very move that he would have done to the young half-breed required all of his strength, which would've been fatal if said move were to make contact. Instead, a focused left uppercut to the demon's chin made him rise off the ground unconsciously, the lifeless beast open for something definitive.

If this fight lasts any longer…

Dante didn't want to finish the thought, as the last of his power was summoned in a similar matter than what the assassin had prepared for him. As best as he could, he took his mind off the pain, leapt towards his target while transforming into a more hideous winged threat, and ascended but so far into the air. Dante, or at least the hardened mutant shell that encapsulated him, held his mark with one hand at his throat, as he watched the left of his face still had acidic retort to the pious attack. As he curled his arm to bring the demon inward, his wings wrapped around him, as the flames from below began to distort and disappear, so did the very environment, transforming within an imperceptible sphere of energy of which Dante was its nucleus.

The distortion grew more intense, nearly quaking what wasn't affected by the sphere, as the demon began to awaken once more, only now to the sight of someone that looked and felt nothing like the man he had fought. He was something more, now, flowing with a power that only avatars to a greater presence could feel. Before the assassin could even raise his hand to attempt to break the hold, everything turned discolored, and faded into a white haze that was neither welcoming, nor wraithlike.

Trish, it's me, again. I was just calling up and…well, you know why. I was seeing if you're back from the search. I still haven't heard from 'em, myself, an' Enzo an' the others aren't getting any luck, either. Look, I don't wanna' run on, here…just call me when you get home, okay? Bye.

"So how many does that make," Dante asked, well rested in his desk chair.

Trish laughed evenly, "That's the fifth from her, but eighteen total. Some of the cases are probably too late to even care about."

"Well, at least of the ones that sounded legitimate, I'm sure a few still got some life in 'em," an ecstatic Dante replied, rising from his chair and taking a new coat off a nearby sword handle embedded in the wall, in the guise of a makeshift coat rack. "Besides, I've had enough rest."

"Knocked out for three days in a foreign land, barely clothed and bruised to holy hell," Trish humorously recalled his story, "if any locals found you first, you'd have been written off as a college boy left behind on a class trip. But what about that guy?"

Dante remained silent for a moment, his back turned to his partner, as she caught him reflecting. "I don't know, but I won't doubt it'll be our only encounter. He was good, Trish."

Her curiosity was raised. "How good?"

More silence followed, until she saw him turn to lock eyes, replying with a grin, "If I'm still here, not good enough."

They parted ways with those words, and the sound of his motorcycle cut though the silent town he called home.

As he rode off towards hi new destination, Dante thought back to the climax of the battle. He remembered little after the transformation, but there was something that occurred in his unconscious state that he couldn't shake out his mind. It was a disturbing white haze with smoke, crimson as blood, slowly forming within the unknown. The only sounds present were the breathing, roaring, or cheering of a million beings at once, each one felt as dark as the next. Though it was only the three days of nothingness, it felt longer for him. Maybe because it was, that Trish was lying to him for some unforeseen reason, that she sensed what he now sensed within him, and maybe didn't want him to fear the worse. Smiling, he shook off the accusations, as he revved the engine harder, trying not to mind a burning impression in back of him, and the world before him turn into what could be, if he's not saved, a perpetual darkness.

The Beginning…