Chapter 15
The rush of raw emotions that filled the demon slayer as he stared into his father's ice-blue eyes was almost too much for him to bear. Dante's jaw tightened and he felt himself choke on some primal emotion.
Sparda's eyes were glazed with pain and fatigue, but there was also a horrified glimmer of comprehension deep in his crystal blue eyes. Once again all noise seemed drawn from the room except for a fevered scream that Dante knew was the sound of his own blood in his ears, his human heart beating so fast he wondered if it would finally give out.
"No…" Sparda uttered the word softly, his voice hoarse and broken. The man had begun to shake his head slowly, the movement drawing fresh blood from the barbed chains that held him in place. "Not my son…"
Dante felt himself balk at the pure emotion in his father's voice. Even after all this time the demon loved him. The father Dante had rejected, had scorned and disowned for abandoning their family… now irony had united them in the cruellest way. All at once the hunter felt as though he were going to throw up. How long had it been? How long had Sparda been trapped here…? Did Vergil know? The thought sent pure rage racing through Dante, but he knew without confirmation that Vergil would not have let their father suffer like this.
"Well isn't this touching," the disembodied voice rumbled from above, drawing both Dante and Sparda's gaze upwards. Settled in the ceiling where the head of the marble statue would have been three glittering red orbs crackled with lightning.
"Mundus," Sparda growled his voice demonic, reverberating with energy.
So the King of Hell had not taken his father's powers… just imprisoned him and tortured him for all of this time. Dante felt pathetic, unable to free his father when it seemed as though Sparda truly needed him and then waves of guilt washed through the hunter because he had never even bothered to look. Purely and simply Dante hadn't even considered that his father was still when that reality stared him in the face all the pent up rage Dante had felt towards his father washed away and more than anything he wanted to free the demon and apologise for all the wasted time. But he felt Theo's vice-like grip on his shoulder, sharp nails pressing into his flesh, drawing blood and knew, despite his ever-present ego, that he didn't stand a chance.
The demon King laughed, the sound twisted and cruel. Dante could tell that despite how inhuman Mundus was, he was enjoying every moment of their suffering. Really it should have been beneath such a high-class demon to show such human emotions and yet Mundus had waited for this moment for so long… now he was relishing it.
"What is it my old friend?" the word was laced with rage. "You did not expect to see your sons again? This one has grown strong, but he never had a father to teach him how to use his head. I suppose that is a little unfortunate."
"Where is Vergil?" Sparda hissed, his eyes glancing to Dante as though the question were directed at him. Dante was surprised that his father could tell them apart.
"Now you wish to play the concerned father?" Mundus asked sardonically, Dante was certain that if the demon had chosen to reveal himself in a more corporeal form he would have been grinning. "Your elder son is alive, but… I thought since your whore bred you two whelps you might not mind if I disposed of the weaker one for you."
"Give me my powers back and we'll see who's weak!" Dante shouted unable to ignore the jibe and itching for a fight. Despite the fact that he was heavily out-gunned he was not able to contain his own pride or the brazen attitude that had kept him going all these years.
"Be quiet!" Theo hissed, he raised his arm from Dante's shoulder and punch the demon slayer across the face. The blow had been unexpected, Dante felt his cheek hit the marble hard his nose streaming blood. His vision blurred with dark spots and before Dante could react, he felt Theo hauling him up, pinning his hands together and binding them roughly behind his back with steel cord that threatened to slice his wrists open.
Dante turned his head and spat blood onto the marble floor. He felt dizzy and nauseous, every part of his body wanted to give in and sink into unconsciousness, but he couldn't.
"Mundus…" Sparda spoke through gritted teeth, twisting his wrists against the bonds that had held him for decades as though they might suddenly come loose. All the action succeeded in doing was slicing his wrists open, blood pouring from the fresh wounds.
His father's voice was distant to Dante and he was afraid that he might pass out. His ragged breaths misted in the freezing air in front of his face. Dante had not quite realised how cold the chamber had become. It was clearly the result of some demonic magic that seated Mundus' throne room atop the ninth circle of hell – a frozen wasteland reserved only for betrayers. Of course, Hell did not work as the human world did and so it was not surprising that two realities blended seamlessly at the King of Hell's will. Much less surprising that Mundus had chosen to keep his throne so close to his old ally, to keep a watch over the one demon in Hell who had ever become strong enough to defeat him.
Dante felt himself shudder, the icy chill sinking into the depths of his soul. Everything was so horribly wrong, and the demon slayer couldn't face that feeling. He was used to being the one who was threatened, the one being played with. Now it was very clear to Dante that it was his father who was being tormented and that he was just a disposable puppet through which Mundus sought to make Sparda suffer. Dante hated himself for it.
"Mundus let him go," Sparda hissed his voice dripping with pure rage. Sparda had been caught off-guard by this development. Having his son, a young man, brought before him bloodied and beaten was almost more than the demon could take. Until this moment he had dreamed that his sons lived happily, safely in the human world – perhaps with wives and children of their own… a family. That was all Sparda had ever wanted for them. Now seeing Dante wounded, strung up and hearing the defiance in his voice, he knew that not to be true. Dante had fallen into Sparda's reality – the one he had tried to shield his children from despite everything that drew them towards it.
Of course, Sparda had seen these horrific versions of his son's lives before. Mundus had presented to him the torture of his family in one thousand different ways, each one crueller than the last. But something was different this time… no Dante was different. Mundus could only ever have used the version of his sons that existed in Sparda's head, and that version did not look like the young man before him now, did not behave in the same way. Yet, despite the fact that Dante was more or less a stranger to his father Sparda knew unmistakably that this Dante was real. He felt his son's presence in the air even though Dante lacked any hint of demonic scent. Sparda wished that it was not true, that this was not his child, but it was an unmistakable truth that frightened the dark knight more than anything he had experienced whilst in Mundus' clutches.
The events had unfolded so quickly that Sparda hadn't even had the time to feign nonchalance. He had spent what felt like millennia in a cage. His mind had been frozen in a dream like state reliving past torments, feeling time stretch into eternity whilst his body remained screaming in agony his demonic powers constantly working to keep him alive around otherwise mortal wounds. He could barely breathe, barely think and so when he had seen his son after such a long time Sparda had not been able to suppress his raw emotions - to fake indifference.
"How does it feel Sparda?" Mundus asked goading the dark knight. "You committed the ultimate betrayal against me, against our kind when you created these abominations. Do you think that you love them? Did you think you loved Eva…?"
"Do not say her name," Sparda hissed, his hands were clenched into fists. Sparda was shaking with pure rage and yet he could not move, he was bound, trapped in the darkest depths of Hell – a rare butterfly pinned in his captor's collection.
"Perhaps you do love them…" Mundus mused his voice soft, edged in a low rumble. "I wonder, when you bore two sons did you ever think that one of them would turn loyal to me?"
There was a grating rumble as the grand doors at the end of the chamber swung inwards. The soft click of booted feet walking across polished stone could be heard and Dante's stomach dropped, because he knew that sound. The demon slayer turned his head as much as he was able whilst Theo held him. Craning his neck and tensing against his bonds until he was able to turn his gaze to what he knew instinctively to be his twin.
"I think it is time that you both met my Nelo Angelo," Mundus spoke his tone almost affectionate.
Vergil strode forwards, unbound and apparently unhurt. His face was a mask of impassiveness, Yamato clutched in his sword-hand as he strode toward the centre of the room, eyes fixed unwaveringly on his father's face. Not once did a flicker of emotion cross his features, not once did he hesitate.
Dante struggled uselessly against his bonds, trying to stand up although Theo continued to force him back down a shit-eating grin spreading across the demon's features. He was enjoying this - had Dante had less pressing concerns, he would have made a note to punish the demon for it later.
"Vergil-!" Dante did not know if he wanted to warn his twin or yell profanities at him. He did not get the chance to finish the sentence when Theo slugged him again.
Dante hit the cool marble and felt his teeth drive up into his tongue. Blood poured into the back of his throat and he groaned inadvertently the coppery taste of his own blood filling his mouth as he rolled onto his back muscles screaming. He tried to find a way to right himself before his tormentor could land another blow and only succeeded in rolling onto his back before the demon was on top of him again
Theo knelt next to him; Dante couldn't escape the scent of the creature's reeking breath. The demon's thin fingers wrapped around his throat pressing him into the frozen stone ground, the demon slayer's arms trapped uncomfortably beneath him.
"I would advise you to be quiet whilst the adults are talking unless you want me to rip out your tongue," Theo hissed with a sneer, eyes flashing.
"Me?" Dante ground out; his voice broken by the pressure around his neck. "You don't ever… shut up."
The demon's hand squeezed harder about his throat grinding Dante into the ground below him. For a second Dante's vision darkened and he wondered if the demon might actually forget his orders and kill him, but then his head was shoved backwards harshly as Theo let go.
Dante rested back against the cool marble trying to stop his head from spinning. The urge to vomit was rising steadily in his gut as blood from his broken nose tricked down the back of his throat. He was aware of Theo standing off to his left, knew the demon was aching to disembowel him upon his master's orders. The air in the room was thick with electricity, with the stench of demonic power.
The demon hunter would not admit it, but when Theo dragged him back to his feet he was actually glad. His abused body wanted nothing more than to rest and, with his arms bound behind his back, Dante had not quite figured how he would get up. He felt shame spiral through him as he stumbled and then shrugged it off quickly.
Vergil had now strode past where Dante and his demon captor stood and had stopped gazing up at the three glittering orbs which hovered above the scene crackling with electricity.
"You son of a bitch," Dante hissed, he jerked his wrists against the bonds that held him wanting suddenly more than anything in the world to tear his twin limb from limb. Never mind the wounds that threatened to force him into unconsciousness, he wanted blood.
Vergil tilted his head only slightly in Dante's direction a look of cold derision slid across his features. The corner of his mouth quirked up a little in an expression of disgust.
It was only then that Dante realised how pale his twin's skin had become, even for Vergil… it was almost transparent. The veins beneath his skin seemed raised somehow, bulging beneath his ashen flesh, his eyes were a bloodshot red.
"My Nelo Angelo," Mundus spoke, his voice sounded smug. Vergil turned his head from Dante to look back to where the three red orbs blazed. "My dark knight."
If it was possible Mundus almost sounded affectionate. Theo rolled his eyes and Dante caught the movement.
"What, are you jealous?" Dante quipped unable to stop himself. The demon looked as though he would hit him again, but luckily for Dante he didn't.
"Vergil?" Sparda asked and his tone was incredulous. It shook a little at the end as though Sparda could not quite believe the turn of events. Dante would not be surprised if his father thought that the whole spectacle was an illusion. Honestly Dante was beginning to wonder if he had died the moment he stepped into Hell and if everything beyond that point had been some messed up nightmare.
Vergil merely glanced at Sparda, his face was cold, impassive. Had he known? Dante couldn't be sure. He saw nothing in Vergil's eyes, as though his twin had simply been erased from existence.
"Did you do as I asked?" Mundus asked his pet.
Vergil's response was to reach his free hand into the breast-pocket of his coat and withdraw something. In a sickening moment of clarity Dante recognised it instantly. The red jewel glimmered in the light that streamed in between the marble pillars. The blood red gem that always glistened perfectly against the snow-white skin of Lady's collar bone. She would never remove that jewel and although she had never said why Dante had never had to ask. It was a deeply personal token, just like his amulet – a gift from her mother. But if Vergil had it now…
"No," Dante whispered his heart pounding in his chest. The conclusion he had reached was not possible, even for Vergil, even for the brother who had betrayed him time and time again – Vergil knew what Lady meant to him – he wouldn't dare…
Theo turned to him a wicked smile spread across his ghoulish features. "Your little Lady may have finally met her match, those pesky human emotions, she should have known better than to trust a demon."
Dante watched in a daze as his twin threw the jewel to the ground. It bounced with a harsh chime and slid on the smooth stone. He had heard Theo's words and yet somehow they weren't registering, because he didn't believe it, he couldn't.
"I would have brought you something more substantial, but there was nothing left of her," Vergil intoned voice impassive, devoid of emotion.
With those words the flood gates opened and pure rage boiled Dante's blood. Even in his weakened state he felt adrenalin flood through him as blood pounded in his ears and he felt energised and faint all at once.
"I will kill you with my bare hands!" Dante yelled, straining at the bonds that held him with all his might, twisting uselessly in Theo's hold as he tried to gain purchase. The muscles of his arms corded, his skin gleamed with sweat.
He had forgotten that their father too was a helpless onlooker, knew it would hurt Sparda to see that his sons hated one another like bitter enemies and yet in that moment he did not care. If Vergil was telling the truth, if Lady was gone and he was responsible… Vergil could have tried to kill Dante he didn't know how many times and he would probably eventually have forgiven him, but there was no coming back from this…
The sound of Mundus' laughter filled the room, rumbling like a thunderclap in a storm.
"I couldn't have thought of a better way to demonstrate my point to your loving father", Mundus mused. "Free the whelp – what better way to prove to Sparda where my Dark Knight's loyalty lies?"
Sparda shook his head slowly in disbelief. He looked across at Vergil and saw nothing of the boy he had raised. He knew Vergil had suffered unimaginable torment; he knew no other way that Mundus could have overcome one of his blood-line. The thought only broke his heart further.
Theo moved swiftly, drawing a blade in order to sever Dante's bonds. Dante dropped to his hands and knees as his bonds were cut. He had not realised how much he was relying on Theo to support him. His arms had gone numb and his bones felt leaden.
Dante raised his head, panting and was only just in time to roll avoiding a killing blow from Yamato's blade. Instead the sword reverberated from the marble floor with a harsh clang.
"Fight me like a man you sonuvabitch," Dante growled hauling himself to his feet and backing away from his twin. "Or are you just as bad as your master when it comes to a fair fight?"
The jab at Mundus' pride clearly worked as the room reverberated with the demon king's voice. "If your brother wishes to die by his twin's own bare hands then so be it."
Vergil, no Nelo Angelo, halted and nodded to his master, sheathing Yamato and placing the blade carefully on the cool ground in one swift motion. The demonic knight stood slowly with an eerie grace, his face impassive, his eyes a blazing red. Dante stared into his brother's face and knew it was not his twin who stood before him.
Rather than abate the rage burning in him it only made Dante all the more furious. Vergil had known from the beginning. He had led Dante into hell, he had dragged Lady along for the ride and he had murdered her. Worst of all Vergil had been weak, everything his brother should not have been. That weakness had suddenly cost Dante everything.
Dante didn't have any more time to think as his twin charged him. Luckily Dante's instincts allowed him the forethought to dodge, but his reaction time was slow and he stumbled. His brother easily got a blow in sending the younger twin sprawling across the cool marble. Dante landed face first and rolled barely missing Vergi's fist which slammed into the marble leaving a bloodied imprint. Vergil's still very human hand was smeared with blood, skin across his knuckles shorn down to the bone – the injury did not appear to phase the Dark Knight.
The demon hunter scrabbled backwards stumbling to his feet. The wound across his chest burned, his breathing was already coming in ragged gasps and he had barely even exerted himself. It was pathetic. It didn't matter that Vergil had devested himself of Yamato, this fight was a farce.
"Give me my powers back Mundus!" Dante yelled at the demon King slowly backing away from his brother as Vergil advanced. "How is this a fair fight?"
"Did I say anything about it being fair?" Mundus said his tone amused. "I merely want your loving father to see how loyal your brother is to me. What do you think Sparda? Vergil was so broken after he fell in battle against me. It didn't take long to tear all his spirit away, to remake him in my image. To replace you."
"You have me Mundus," Sparda ground out. "This does not concern them."
"Oh but it does. You overplayed your hand Sparda, thought you could have everything you dreamed of. Thought a demon could have a family could be loved." The rage in the King of Hell's voice was palatable. "You failed me as my Knight and you failed your family as a protector, as a father. Your legacy is weak and pathetic and it will end in blood."
"Huh, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were a poet in a former life," Dante quipped grinning despite the pain, despite everything.
"Don't you think it's time to stop playing games little brother?" Vergil asked his voice hissing with a sibilant undertone of struck steel. Demonic despite Vergil's remaining humanity. Mundus' powers had worked that deep that even without anything demonic to latch onto the King of Hell had wormed his way into the elder twin's mind.
"Games?" Dante retorted throwing up his arms in an indignant show of confusion. "Who's playing games here brother? From where I'm standing you are the only one who hasn't been playing straight."
Vergil, who had been advancing steadily on his twin as Dante backed away suddenly stopped. He cocked his head to one side a cold smile spreading across his thin lips. "You are pathetic. All of you, all of humanity – why do you think it was so easy to convince Lady to trust me? She wanted to… she didn't even see it coming-"
Dante launching himself bodily at his brother had certainly been unexpected by everyone in the room, including the youngest son of Sparda himself. The attack took Vergil by surprise and Dante bowled him over onto the harsh stone floor hands going instantly for his brother's throat. His only intention to squeeze the life out of his twin. Vergil's hands grasped Dante's wrists his eyes blazing a demonic red. For a second the elder twin fought for breath and then with a surge of strength he pulled Dante's hands aside staring into his twin's pale face and raising a single inquisitive eyebrow.
"Good show little brother," Vergil hissed sardonically, venom dripping from each syllable. "But you never could beat me and now our father is going to watch me kill you."
"You son of a bitch," Dante growled. He felt the pressure around his wrists, felt that Vergil might break bones beneath his thin fingers. How had it come to this? This mockery of a childish play-fight in the depths of Hell with their father onlooking and helpless… and Vergil's intent very much beyond playing.
Dante barely had a chance to think when Vergil reared up unexpectedly, forcing himself forwards and head-butting the younger twin square in the forehead. Dante's vision swam, he fell backwards and then Vergil was on top of him, pinning him face down into the cold marble. The wound across Dante's abdomen screamed, he could barely breath as Vergil leaned his booted knee into his brother's back forcing him down hard into the ground until Dante was certain his ribs would crack. Dante planted his palms uselessly against the floor trying to find purchase, but he had none.
Once he was certain of his dominance over his younger brother Vergil tangled his hand in the snowdrift of Dante's hair and hauled his twin onto his knees. With a savage jerk he wrenched Dante's head backwards to expose the pale column of his throat. Dante's hands clawed at the hand threatening to rip the hair out of his scalp, but Vergil's grasp was firm. Through watering eyes Dante saw Sparda fighting the bonds of his throne with all his might.
"It appears we have a winner," Mundus laughed – Dante almost thought that the King of Hell sounded proud.
"Vergil stop!" Sparda shouted and Dante didn't like the desperation he heard in his father's voice. He only understood it when he felt the cool steel of a blade press into the skin of his throat. Not Yamato… A dagger… He saw the amber stone glittering in its hilt, realised that this was the blade Theo had stabbed him with in that Church what felt like a lifetime ago. Their powers… the weapon had taken them away, could it give them back?
"But why would he stop?" Mundus' voice echoed throughout the chamber, languorous, almost bored. "That blade contains your sons' demonic powers. And like the abominations they are they only received half of their fair share of demonic blood… the rest, filthy and human." Mundus paused seeming to enjoy playing with Sparda in the moments before his perfect revenge was completed… before one of his foe's sons murdered the other in front of him. "That is why Vergil could never beat me, but I found a way to rectify this deformity… That weapon has the power to give and take away demonic energy. When my Nelo Angelo slays his brother he will gain that which he has always desired."
"This again," Dante hissed, his voice barely a whisper. The blade pressed harshly into his skin daring him to fight back, to give Vergil an excuse. Some sense of self-preservation in Dante's mind told his body to remain still despite the rage which shocked through him as he thought of Lady, of Vergil's deception the whole terrible mess. The betrayal cut him to the core, tore open the old wound which had been first created that night in the rain on Temin-Ni-Gru. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dante cursed his own humanity because it always led him back to trusting a brother who used him time and time again to further his own twisted agenda.
"Yes Dante," Vergil whispered into his twin's ear. "All this time, all of it boils down to this. Without power we are nothing… and if it takes your sacrifice for me to realise my potential then so be it."
Had the blade not been threatening to slice open Dante's jugular he would have laughed. "I should have killed you…"
"But you never could have," Vergil said softly in his ear. "You never had the chance, and you would have had to give up everything that you love." You would have had to follow me into Hell forever and leave her to face the world alone. The unspoken words said volumes, because Dante had chosen his own humanity and the human world and in doing so he had lost Vergil and now he had lost everything.
"What happened to you Vergil?" Dante hissed so that only his brother could hear, sadness and rage mixing in his voice. "When did you become this? What happened to guts and honour?"
If Vergil had intended to reply he didn't have the chance to. The air around them crackled with electricity, the thrum of demonic energy filled the room and there was a blast which shook the icy chamber. Vergil, who did not intend to rend his twin's jugular on accident, had the instinctive sense to move his hand away and Dante felt the bite of cool steel leave his throat. As the room flared with demonic lightning it was all the invitation that he needed.
The momentary interruption as Trish made her grand entrance, Lady in tow, with Kalina-Ann poised and ready, was enough for Dante. As soon as he felt that any movement would not risk his life's blood being spilled across the chamber floor, he threw himself out of Vergil's reach and then jackhammered to his feet. The movement tore the wounded skin of his stomach and his abdominal muscles groaned in process. Dante practically felt them tear at the vigorous movement and yet he knew instinctively that this was his one and only chance.
He charged at Vergil, both hands grasping for the dagger held in his twin's hand. What only took seconds felt like an age as Vergil realised his brother's intent and retaliated forcibly shoving Dante backwards.
In the back of his mind Dante heard somebody shout – a woman – she sounded fearful, concerned, but Dante couldn't comprehend who the voice belonged to. The twin sons of Sparda grappled over the blade that within it held the combined strength of their demonic power. Feeling Vergil's strength begin to overpower him Dante yelled in frustration, stared into the glowing red depths of his brother's eyes and then…
Dante's breath caught in the back of his throat, his eyes widened in disbelief and blood sprayed from between his parted lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a woman cry out, but the sound was drowned out of his mind by the high-pitched ringing building in his ears. Then pain washed over him, searing and merciless. His bloodied hands grasped uselessly at the dagger's hilt and his body crumpled until with an odd sense of calm he stared up at the high vaulted ceiling above. In what now felt like the far-off distance he heard an anguished roar and knew with a feeling of complete clarity that the sound could only have come from his father's lips.
As the portal into Hell opened and Lady once again felt the sickening evil of the place wash over her she did her best to maintain her footing. It turned out that the only plan she and Trish could muster was to go in all guns blazing. It was a suicide mission and although neither had admitted that to the other they had both acknowledged it deep down. They were outmatched and outgunned with the King of Hell intent on wiping Sparda's bloodline off the map. Mundus had created Trish and despite her impressive abilities the demoness was merely a pest to him. Although Lady's pride would not allow her to admit it, she was somewhere even lower on the food chain.
The trip into Hell was a painful and disorientating one and Lady had been fighting down the urge to vomit whilst the crackling electricity danced around them and then cleared.
The scene before her was not one that she had the ability to fully comprehend. She had seen Mundus' throne room before and although this was certainly the same room it was also changed somehow. Rather than an ominous stone effigy of the King of Hell a smaller throne sat at the head of the room. For a second Lady wondered if Mundus' true form sat there and then she noticed the white hair and the chains.
Lady's heart leapt at the realisation, but only for a second as her attention was quickly drawn to a pair of warring white-haired devils who were much closer to her. Her mind registered Theo's presence off to the other side of the twin sons of Sparda, but she paid him no heed as the scene unfolded before her.
There was a cry and Dante – she knew it was Dante as Vergil was still dressed in his regal blue attire – fell backwards. Before he hit the ground she saw the devil hunter's icy blue eyes widen in shock. Dante's hands clutched uselessly at the dagger which had been driven up under his ribcage and pierced his heart.
"Dante!" She shrieked and swung Kalina-Ann onto her back racing desperately to her fallen friend. Lady shoved past Vergil not giving him or Theo or anyone else in the room a second glance. Dante lay sprawled on his back, blood already seeping out from beneath his body to pool around him in a sanguine halo. Lady's knees were slick with the stuff as she dropped to his side.
Although Dante's eyes were glossy they moved to Lady as she appeared within his field of vision. The edges of Dante's bloodied mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile "Lady."
"Dante," the huntress said knowing that her voice sounded hollow and pathetic. Her hands went instinctively to the blade piercing his chest wanting to remove it or staunch the flow of blood or something, but Dante shook his head – the movement so slight she might have missed it.
His chest was soaked in blood his hands still uselessly grasping the hilt of the enchanted blade. "No… good," he wheezed in between short wet breaths.
Lady knew that it was a mortal wound and tears pricked her eyes. "But-"
"Leave it…"
"Dante…" Lady's vision swam, she swiped angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand. When her vision cleared she saw plainly, and with the feeling that her heart was tearing, that he was dead. "Dante… No…"
Lady's hands ran uselessly up the hunter's body, smearing blood, caressing his face in her hands as though her touch could somehow bring him back. Her thin fingers slid bright viscid blood across the hunter's all too pale cheeks. "Please Dante… please you can't die."
A/N: Yes an update - and I am sorry that this chapter hasn't really moved the plot along much, but that seemed like a good place to stop for now. This is the third version of this chapter that I wrote and it has been a struggle to get it out. We're nearing the end folks, but there's a little bit more to go :)
On a side note I hope everyone enjoyed playing DMC5 as much as I did! Honestly I couldn't stop grinning. Not gonna lie I got a bit emotional writing about the dagger in this chapter - describing it as a millenia ago, because to me it was a millenia ago. DMC4 came out over 10 years ago and I started this fic before that (granted I didn't upload the first chapter until after the game came out)! So much has happened in the past 10 years its insane and yet... playing DMC5 and realising this world and these characters still mean so much to me, being reunited with these boys... finally having that closure after 10 years was amazing. I hope that I can give anyone still reading this that closure too.
- Luce
