Chapter 14 - Hush
"Pah!" She scoffed aloud, rolling over in her slovenly sheets as the sunlight hissed at her face.
Her disheveled raven hair lay scattered across her fine face, and every breath she exhaled smelled faintly of eviscerated, decomposing corpses.
Thankfully, she had nobody to share this putrid moment with. Glancing around her room, she noticed a messy assortment of notebooks, freshly-sharpened color pencils and a pile of money.
It was for aesthetic pleasure mostly, though she'd occasionally take some when work was drying out. Slowly but surely, she pushed herself out of bed, letting her feet hit the cool floor.
There's no point in moping, she will be fine. At least for the time being, this pain in her chest would drive her into ruthless efficiency.
Time to do some shopping and walking around.
Elsewhere, a braying wind passed over the city, nighttime approaching so many hours after
He hated this waiting game. His brother had made it look so easy, made all the numbers dance. He'd been able to recall the most astonishing details of possible places Sparda visited.
But he was not his younger sibling, and he wanted to move on, to return to the demon world. But a debt kept him tethered here, it had to be done.
He can't leave him alone, that's the major issue.
The truth remained that he didn't know what to do. That was irony in writ made large, that was.
He had commanded thousands of demons in battle. He had routed Mundus' armies like chaff on the wind, and now he was reduced to sitting here. What was he waiting for?
Thinking up mad desperate plan after mad desperate plan, he'd only abandon each one as impossible. How had he gone from that feared, neutral demon, so great and dominating,
to feeling the life drain out of him? From the very moment his mentor and close friend ended it all, his brother had returned to the human world, lost in the maze of corruption.
How come it's got so cold? Why had it happened at all?
He scrubbed his hands through his hair, and let out a smooth, solid sigh. Even though there's much on his mind, he can relax just fine.
People-watching has become a habit for him.
His eyes spotted a woman with short black hair and white clothes. She appeared to be confused, wandering alone, even though she was walking as normal as a human could be.
It's what he learned from his time, observing the humans.
Nothing special really but something in his gut was telling him. . . Trouble hangs around her.
And just like that, he actually saw it; a dark aura following her. Almost hunting after her weathered figure, it pulsated strands of black to the heavens.
Hmmm. . . Bizarre.
He made up his mind to follow her and see. . . Et abierunt
Lady was feeling isolated recently.
Demons had been targeting her for some odd reason. She couldn't walk peacefully. Perhaps it was Arkham's doing, that clown.
Arkham. . . Where did he go?
She had to put an end to this lunacy, the sweltering chase of abandoned kinship growing stale.
She can't bear the thought he's still out there, planning something to get her, and perhaps kill more people in the way. . . For fun. Searching for seas of gold led her astray.
The idea of freedom dominated her every move.
The truth is she wanted to leave with Dante, but not who he'd become. She wanted to bring his old self back, leaving and forgetting this unforgiving world behind.
Sailing away; if only.
For a moment is better, but he gave her no chance to offer help.
It was going to take time, but the two of them might pull through this.
Lady took a turn over the side street, ready to check the office one more time for Morrison, for anyone.
She needed to check with him one more time, to what purpose she wouldn't say.
Drr... Drr... Drr...
A rumbling. . .
Lady stopped in her tracks, drawing her pistols to the surroundings. Her reflexes were far greater, must be the result of recent hardships. At least some positivity came out of it.
The street lamps flickered all down the right side of road, and she knew something hid in the shadows.
A thickening smog drifted down.
Heavy claws scraped over the concrete, as something approached her; from where, she couldn't tell. Abruptly, all the lights illuminating the avenue cut out.
She found herself drenched in darkness, unable to forgive herself for letting this happen. The alley rustled, and the wind died. Creaking sounds emerged, the buildings shuttering.
All around her, wood beams and concrete swayed, and the growing sounds of claws scraping terra firma made her spine shiver. Scuffs sparked memories, bad ones.
Makes her fight through the raging maw, the swallowing damnation coming after her pretty hips.
Lady's eyes adjusted to the darkness.
The lights rebooted, extremely dim, still glinting constantly.
Every flicker or so, a shape of the hunched creature became clearer and clearer.
Getting closer, over the sudden change of dusk's light, ever so near did it draw. She prepared herself, strong legs anchoring her discomfort as she took aim.
Sweat dripped down the side of her left temple, and strain gripped her fingers. The trigger pulled, a sonic launch of lead broke through.
It stayed still, the shots hitting but not stopping. From the umbra, the creature bolted, as if she couldn't see it coming. The brutish figure came right in front of her.
Shoving it's arm in her side, the beast knew nothing of her more than a simple idea.
War was what it was bred for, the soil of the earth making it's cracked dawn split.
She slammed against a nearby wall, a shout of pain escaping her breath. During the fall, her elbow struck the floor first. By reaction, she pulled upon the handle. The bullet wedged itself into a brick wall.
With power in her lungs robbed, she stumbled a bit while the monster came closer, obscured by venomous shadows. It's ratty hair secured the image of an undead hulk, nails grinding the sidewalk.
It's arms hung far down to the ground, the deathly pincers ready to kill prey, not deserving.
She shook her head, a constant chill inside as she let her gun shout.
The shells rolled toward her attacker. . . Lady told herself to focus.
Gazing up, the young woman saw furious crimson eyes glister from the fickle black, above an ebony snout.
Before her stood a demon, but this one was different. Lady blinked her eyes to check if she saw this thing correctly.
In the inky fog lay a savage, two-headed thing. Both mugs looked animalistic, wolf's teeth salivating out of instinct. A twisted growl shifted the atmosphere, and those eyes looked accompanied.
Eerily incandescent, a strange blue glow bathed it's other retina's. Sharp as a fine diamond sword, the razor fangs inched towards her, her thick thighs looking delightful.
It's skin was mostly scar tissue, hidden beneath onyx fur, squalid and diseased, yet it shivered in the early fall breeze. Tufty and thin, the pelt provided no protection to the elements at all.
On the torso and face were recent scabs from a meal that fought back, now it picked at them with blood-soaked talons to relieve the boredom of the stake-out.
Then came movement from the dwelling, the wait nearly over. For such a carnivore, it moved surprisingly stealthy, leaving behind only a trail of large dandruff flakes and heinous odor.
Closer it came, moving like a sullen twitch of death.
From the darkest heart, Lady didn't waste time. Regained focus, she rolled to her back.
"Well there's something new." She whispered and took aim.
One bullet pierced it's chest, which made it's lungs breath strangely, the creature came closer, hissing. The lights closed out, shrouding everything as the unholy sprinted, slamming it's fist to the ground.
Lady rolled over, the behemoth limb shattering concrete. Keeping her aim focused, she fired again. A holy water-soused bullet rocketed into it's left blue eye.
It reeled back, clutching the wound with both paws. Screaming to the sky, the beast released a ruthless charge, it's infested fur liberating bits of matter as it went.
She'd managed to get to her knee, the other leg prepared to stand, but the demon held it's left arm at the ready.
Plunging forward, it assaulted scabrous, blood trails flowing through the air. Crying for her flesh, it lunged to the air, spiraling for a slash.
She dove off to the right, it's arm planting into the ground.
A hole punched in the sod, now it's limb could not be freed.
It was stuck for a moment as it tried to pull itself out. Lady took the advantage, pulling a loaded Uzi on her dark guest. The coming spray of bullets stripped off rotted flesh, lacerating the bones.
This old fiend yanked it's arm loose, finally released from it's shattered prison, then shrieked during the onslaught. It pushed past her fire, growing more mutilated and strange.
It swung a fist into a lamppost. She ducked in time, the blinking machine falling atop the creature's two craniums. It rested between, making it awkward to move as she pushed past the elongated limb.
Shooting off wildly, each bullet chewing on the creature's back.
Grabbing the post, it swung it around like a baseball bat, knocking her off her feet.
The taste of iron flooded her mouth. Her back hit the tar, and it felt as though at least two ribs had snapped.
It thrashed the pole around, smashing glass as it howled to the sky. Busting through metal, it tore apart cars and threw the weapon into a wall.
Spiked through, the monster zeroed back in on it's target, the pain leaving. Ancient savages like itself weren't skilled at focus.
Trudging forward, it grasped her head and hoisted her up.
Well, what now? This was it she supposed.
Before it's hand closed, a sudden presence overtook them. It was beyond good and evil, feeling like it came from a different space altogether.
"Et abierunt, puellae dimittere turpi bestia!" She heard a man shout, the language completely foreign to her.
The strange demon's eyes widened, and it dropped her crumpled form to the ground. Losing courage, it slipped back away, out of her fallen vision.
It fled the street, leaving the earthen plane outright. The soil relaxed, and the atmosphere calmed. Lady spat out blood as she lifted herself onto her side.
Once more, as she stumbled, her brain flummoxed from the sight of such a Daemon.
First time she felt like this, she made the connection deep down that the recent appearance of that lame 'Order' was somehow connected
Lady checked behind her and saw a man with dark hair standing a few feet behind her. She coughed some more, laying there silently. He acknowledged her,
"You look awful." He said, genuinely concerned for her steadily worsening condition.
"Thank-. . . -You." She spat out from her damaged lungs.
"A creature like that shouldn't appear here. Something is very wrong." He spoke in a calm polite manner.
Lady grabbed her scattered pistol, "Who the hell are you?"
"I am Modeus." He replied casually. "I ask of you to tell me, have you seen a creature like that before? When was it?"
"That was the first time." Lady replied, her energy diminished.
Modeus took out a vial of liquid, though what is was couldn't be identified. He poured a small drop into her listless lips. Slowly, her body felt rested.
She tried to move, and surprisingly, her broken ribs had put themselves back together. She couldn't fathom why, or even what the substance he gave her was.
The idea was obscure, perhaps a supernatural remedy. Either way, she was thankful.
He stood and let her move around, scanning the streets as the lights returned on, and the power finally stabilized.
She breathed in heavily, her lungs feeling brand new, in fact even stronger than before.
"Hah, come to think of it. . . Something's been off ever since yesterday." However she ceased this, realizing she was talking to a stranger who could easily turn out to be just another demon.
Lady backtracked slightly, and abruptly pointed her Submachine Gun at his face.
When he turned, he flinched, disappointed and caught off-guard all at the same time.
"Who are you? One of these demons wondering around?" To her surprise, the stranger merely showed exasperation.
With a sigh he spoke, "I assure you miss, I'm a non-hostile demon who was just passing through on my own, and I don't involve myself with any human death."
His reply was deadpan, and then he took a step toward her.
Lady backed away slowly, still keeping the barrel trained.
Modeus tensed slightly, "Look, the only reason I followed you here is to see what that thing was that followed you. . . I cannot comprehend the notion."
Lady lowered her weapon slightly, "What do ya mean?"
Modeus lowered his gaze to the ground.
"I'm not. . ." He blushed, "I'm not into that. I don't kill humans or eat them, or whatever."
She looked at him skeptically.
"I'm serious, I'm not your enemy." He was formal in most every way, "The two-headed wolves are Sparda's followers. They vanished eons ago along with him. They never leave his side."
"So if they-" Lady whispered.
"Yes." He replied immediately, "But why would they attack humans? They're loyal creatures who follow Sparda's orders. If he wills himself not to kill, they don't either."
Lady rubbed her forehead.
"Who are you!? Why are you telling me this?" She said, her stance becoming more feminine.
"I can sense that you have the blood of the priestess, you are connected to Sparda." He answered and crossed his arms.
The priestess who had been sacrificed in order to seal Temen Ni Gru; barely anyone knows this fact, if there is anyone who actually knows. Unless they researched it deeply; and that means deeeeeeply.
"Do you know where his children are? I must speak with them."
With combat over, the restless duo heads to a coffee shop, unable to trust one another fully
The tiny café huddled despondent among the towering city blocks. Washed out under the overcast sky, it hunched into itself, fighting against the drizzle.
Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street. Performers both outside and in; the outdoors containing acoustic guitars while the inside had a relaxing jazz band.
By night time, this cafe is the color of supermarket oranges, that shiny, fresh look glistening all through it's interiors.
The jazz pours out of the open doors, along with the aroma of fresh baked Italian and French foods: Lasagna, Ratatouille, Bucatini, Ragu, Coq Au Vin. It was all there.
Of Lady's favorite places to eat, she always came here in the morning for coffee, before starting about her usual day.
The dozen or so customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind as the two of them entered. Several seemed to stare at Modeus and the strange aura around him.
The length of his strikingly-dark hair helped that even more. The customers returned to their conversations as the door closed behind the new occupants and the cold breeze was forgotten about.
Lady chose her usual table by the window, when a young man came over.
"Good evening Lady, the usual?" It struck him as odd that she came at night.
"Hey Josh," She replied with an uncharacteristic smile, nodding, "Yep."
She never smiled, but here, it was solace. The atmosphere was kind.
Josh gazed at the emotionless man, "What would you like, sir?"
Modeus crossed his arms and replied, "One strawberry sunday, if you have it here."
"Got it." Josh nodded, and returned behind the counter.
He was a typical server in eateries like this, dressed in all black with a customary apron in front.
It was a refreshing slice of normalcy in a demented world like this.
Awkward silence filled the air, between the two of them, neither was very good at socializing.
Lady chose to finally speak, "You said you know 'the priestess.' Can you-? Can you tell me more about her? I need to know."
The stern look on her face said it all.
Modeus sighed. She wasn't sure if it was sadness or a bother.
"Her name was Charlotte, I still recall. She had the longest raven hair, a testament to humanity's genetic structure. It reached down to her knees, covering her lovely complexion."
Lady leaned forward, resting her chin on her knuckles. She listened carefully.
"She was known among humans for her spiritual power. But, their thoughts about her were torn. Some feared her. Rumors were spread among certain children that she was a criminal.
Other people believed her innocence, though they grew to be the minority. She was an outcast for most of her time." He paused for a moment, a sad sorrow in his eyes,
". . . By that era, Sparda was still in war against demon-kind, he couldn't seal them away, not yet. He thought he could trust her, so he sought her help to bring peace once and for all."
His face seemed to brighten briefly, "That's when I met her."
Lady took a moment to absorb what she just heard, on a personal basis. She moved her hands down, placing one on the table and one beneath.
She soothed the side of her thigh. For whatever reason, it helped her calm down when she was nervous.
Lady was, for real, tied to Sparda? Tied to the legendary knight of darkness. . . The tale seemed little more than myth.
"How long did you know her? Did you miss her when she-. . . You know." She inferred the painful event.
He chuckled, much to her surprise.
"The truth is. . . I feel like I'm looking at her right now. The only difference is those eyes."
Her hand flinched beneath the table, and her face grew worried. These eyes were her father's. . . Hereditary Heterochromia Iridum of the same exact coloring; an extreme rarity.
He noticed her face, "What's the matter?"
She collected herself.
"You're honest with me, right? You aren't some kind of demon filth, trying to lure in human prey?" Lady muttered.
At last, some kind of an emotion was evident in his face.
A sense of tenderness. . . A bizarre warmth.
"I swear on my honor, young one, I am telling you the truth. It's like she's reincarnated through you."
She closed her eyes, cleared her head.
"What do you need my help for? You're a demon, you'll be fine on your own right?" She asked him point blank.
Modeus placed something on the table in front of her.
"This is something only for you. Charlotte's descendent is the only one capable of wearing it."
Once Lady checked it out, it was a necklace of some kind, with the oldest, most ornate design she had ever seen. Purple jewels graced the middle, glittering every time a light graced it.
"If the wolves spread, it means chaos is upon us. Ragnarok. . . Please tell me where Sparda's children are, their lives are in danger."
"What's happening? Explain: I can't help if I don't know what's going on." Lady answered urgently.
"They are the sacrifice, in order to reawaken him, or what's left of him. This day I felt the existence of an abomination. It's growing stronger."
Lady's eyes widened.
"Dante!?" She whispered, but she caught herself, "No, he'll be fine, he can take care of himself."
"You don't comprehend this. Something seriously wrong is happening. I can't describe it well, but it's like something is disturbing this realm, from the shadows.
I've never felt something like this in my thousand years." He glanced down at his plate, deeply pondering.
Looking back up at her, he involved the woman in his thoughts.
"You can help delay this thing, if we can just buy Sparda's sons enough time to finish it off."
In a darkened city, the Genesis begins, and revelations howl
The clangor of swords had died hours ago, the bellowing slaughter hushed; silence laid bare on the red-stained snow.
The bleak night's moon glittered so blindingly from the iced earth, that the snow-covered stationed struck sheens of silver from a number of broken spears, where all the dead lay in a heap.
"Dear lord!? What happened here?"
A tall young man with brown hair froze for a moment. He couldn't believe his eyes, he didn't want to anyway. He never saw something like it, even in his worst nightmares.
The little time he spent serving the order was always quiet and peaceful.
Now, he was seeing something his eyes couldn't ever erase.
The adrenalin flew through his veins like a carp through the river, but he was locked in place, unable to move a single muscle, not even to call out for help.
To let the other men know, inform someone to tell His Holiness. The choking horror completely paralyzed him, and the more he thought about running away, the more he felt discouraged.
It was utterly terrifying, because the beast that did this was still in the city somewhere. And that was just the beginning. That idea only made it worse.
If that was even possible.
"W-Who did this?" Most of the deceased had an unforgettable scream etched in their face.
A couple of the order's men rushed over, and started checking them one by one, looking for any survivors possible.
"Whoever did this is clearly sending a message to us." Credo heard one of the men speak.
"It is a cryptic warning, that's for sure. What are we to do?" Credo questioned the others.
An older man came forward from the middle of the group.
"Keep calm, His Holiness is looking over this as we speak. For now, we should remove the bodies and try to avoid public panic as much as possible."
"Okay, okay. . ." Credo agreed.
He ascended the stairs, giving but a glance out the glass windows to the gardens below.
Up another flight, and through the shelves, narrow pathways led to another great glass mural, giant and ornate.
He could see out over the center courtyard of the cathedral, the nighttime sleet giving Fortuna a warm forgiving look.
Behind it's surface was a roman office and a table, upon which sat parchments, scrolls, holy scriptures, and books of all knowledge.
And who sat at this desk was the Master himself.
"Credo, fear not child" He heard, turning to face his most beloved mentor.
"Master." He replied.
"Come forward. You need to listen," The old man gestured, his voice warm, or as warm as it could ever be, for the distance he held to everyone.
"This demon behind the massacre will not scare us away." Sanctus spoke sharply, "Our savior will awaken, and he will rule all. My plan is working as we speak, something I saved for an emergency."
Credo bowed his head, "Your Holiness, my adoptive brother has been sensing the chaos since yesterday."
"You speak of Nero?"
"Yes." Credo replied, "He hasn't slept well, crying, confused. It's like something familiar is coming to him, making him hear things in the night."
Sanctus crossed his arms and he started to pace back and forth, thinking of the situation.
"Where is Agnus? Bring him to me now. Make haste." He motioned with his fingers.
"Yes, Your Holiness." Credo bowed and left immediately.
Walking out the cathedral doors, he strode uncomfortably through the square. Out the gates he went, on a mission. His walk was determined, formal.
"What's the hurry?" A man of the order pestered, following behind.
He'd been waiting outside to hear of the Master's news.
It wasn't fair that Credo always received orders directly, there were other devout followers as well.
"Everything's the hurry. Do you think this demon is just going to sit back and let us ride around investigating him?"
"I suppose not. After that massacre, nothing can assure our safety."
Sanctus placed his hands behind his back, pacing back to his desk. A great swell of air emerged from his lips, his breaths powerful despite his years.
"What did the survivor say about this demon?"
His new visitor's face changed to deep shock.
"He said. . . The demon looked like an angry 'reaper' of souls. He had the pride and aura of a dread lord. He killed them all without showing remorse."
Sanctus smirked.
"So, it's really him. The fearsome Nelo Angelo."
In a dark place, the ensouled one remains
Vergil woke to the sound of breathing that wasn't his own. It was heaving, like an animal rapidly running about.
He can't think of why; his heart was pounding, mind felt empty.
He listens, still, feeling a vibration. He's moving slowly, his heavy feet creaking against floorboards that were silent for him. Slowly, flashes of Ulmarag returned to him.
The Cambion jolted awake, the box disintegrating around him. He found himself still in the forest, but not really in the same place. He'd been moved.
There were a number of hooded people surrounding him.
He so hated it when they died too soon, but he had to punish them. They were dirty arrogance. They dared to take his brother away and practice dark magics that weren't their's.
In his mind he knew it was his right to bear arms against them, their light escaping from his tormented hold so many times already. A good life wasn't measured by any biblical span.
Should they try to speak to him, he would slice them. If they tried and fought back, he would slice deeper. That cold look reflected on his face, giving the only survivor serious shudders.
His hands tightly closed around the freezing surface of the hilt, his Katana at his side.
He seemed to have no sense of heart, as if he were stone.
They ran from him, but he came like the black plague. No matter where they went, he was there. Taking heads, piercing hearts, it was all good fun.
Woe to them, their numbers expired, he just had a duty to fulfill, one they could never comprehend. He stood laughing, blood salting the soil.
He'd make good on his promise, or so these hypocrites would soon learn. Life is a terrible thing to waste, but what good is it when all they do is vicarious?
It was a favor from the damned, they requested death. He simply heeded their call.
Limb after limb, body after body. . . Soon the forest desecrated, his captors all mince meat.
But for what are we born if not to aid one another? He'd brutally killed all these people who wanted to arrest him, to steal from him the life he was intent to live.
They would never forget the evil glint in his beady eyes. The murderer had smelt of blood. Of danger.
Of wolf and man.
"What have you done to us?" The man asked, "What are you?"
He was an adolescent, no older than nineteen or twenty. He sat with his back to a tree trunk, left leg missing. His pinky and ring finger's cauterized nubs, he sat in anguish as the silver slayer came.
Vergil smirked, his eyes insane. The beauty of his annihilation pleased his darkest, most hateful desires.
"Oh, I see the benign damage I caused you all, and it's nothing but a satisfying sight. You all will pay, I will see to it. Death is but a fraction, my friend, of the misery you will feel."
And it was the last words the young man heard, before his own death.
Vergil stopped to think this through, their bodies lay like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out, like corrugated, rubber tubing
The term 'murderer' was now reserved for psychopaths, and he flew on a stream of blood-red death. If the killing was done for means of survival, no one could think less of you.
There were those that took life and crumpled under the weight of guilt, even if they'd no choice. There were some who killed when necessary and never lost a wink of peace of mind over it.
That was pretty much where he sat, his friend of misery. At least what he thought. . .
He no longer understood what he was anymore.
No, that can't be right. He's a demon, there's nothing more to understand. It's part of his nature.
What would mother think of this?
Should she be involved? She'd brought him into this world, raised him to love, not to demolish. The world was a fine place worth fighting for, and he hated very much to leave it.
Funny that, in these moments, when shadows so heavily consumed him, his morality had become just like his brother's. In a twisted way, he felt to be better than he was before.
The mind was a terrible thing to waste, locked in a place he couldn't escape from.
Where is his humanity?
The forest felt dark, the trees looming over the earth like black towers of hate.
Love of life, love of loathing; it all met here.
The dark was not in the sense of the absence of light, but the sinister magic became evident to a strong, overwhelming degree.
And yet, there was peace in its sullen ambience.
He wondered how long these people had been practicing rituals. More importantly; why?
Eyes flickered over the thickets, massive shady tree trunks and vines that rose steadily into the sky. Branches interlocked with neighbors like giant's arms linked together, protecting their home.
Unity. He'd never felt that with anyone. The trees so densely packed together, it left just enough space to allow someone to maneuver through.
He pressed his palm against its rough bark, and breathed in the scent of the forest.
Beyond his dwelling of death, he felt life.
"What was that. . . !?"
A sound of wailing merged with the whistling of the wind, cutting through the woods. It came close to sounding like a kettle boiling, moving about.
Whatever it was, it was shifting, running with the wind. Even it's scent was strange.
It seemed to streak across the trees in a zigzag pattern towards him. The creature had a black robe, ripped and torn.
It crashed to the ground before him, rising up to stand from it's knees.
A blood-curdling shriek, the piercing scream caused him suffering unlike any other.
He held his ears and felt the blood trickle out.
The entity was a woman. It stood tall and thin, long white hair flowing out of the hood. It's skin was a brown tan, eyes bulging.
"You're late, someone I know already died." He shrugged it off and continued walking, leaving the Banshee behind.
Why in the name of flaming Ifrit that every time he effectively reaches something that could give him answers, give him peace of mind, at last, a pain-in-the-rear demon literally materializes out of nowhere, preventing it!?
Vergil' face registered an expression of sheer annoyance, blue eyes flashing a strange, fathomless glance at something flying in the sky.
Annoyance did not even begin to cover what he felt. Murderous rage was more like it, under these disgusting circumstances.
Something he is still having a hard time believing.
Silently he cursed his ill fate; wondering what he'd done to be constantly bothered by those from his past.
Flashes of Temen-ni-gru played in his mind.
That must be it, a punishment for his crime.
It's like the whole world wants to stop him. The funny thing is, he just wants Dante back. Screw everything else.
And apparently, he's not allowed to do so. No second chance for him.
The serpent in the sky landed down beside the banshee.
It's mouth opened wide, then folded back like a flower. From its gullet sprouted a woman's torso, clothed in an elegant set of leaves.
Screaming, the she-viper dove at Vergil. He jumped out of the way, landing casually on a moss-covered arch.
"Hey sweetheart," He snarled, Dante-esque, "I'm seeking something else! Either you give it to me, or I force it out of you. 3 seconds to answer."
"My, aren't you a handsome devil," She replied calmly, ". . . Though you know the deal! I-!"
"Times up."
Vergil galloped forward, the rage of beast pouring through to meet her, Yamato ready like usual.
Echidna floated up, coiled like a spring. She spun and whipped her tail across the scenery. Destroying tree after tree, she cleared away the ground to be a flat pile of crushed lumber.
He departed the ground, up, up and away, missing her vain attack completely, then kept a descent. Continuing his rush, he hacked at the air faster than light. Little sonic slashes crashed against her.
They broke apart against her chest, not powerful enough to rip the skin. Damn it!
He was almost in actual range when she retracted into her body.
The dragon head returned, jaws ready. To slay a dragon, he'd immolate himself.
Vergil was able to shift to the side just as it's jettison jaws came chomping, feeling her hot breath as she passed by. Echidna swooped high into the sky, then came roaring back down at Vergil.
He promptly rolled out of the way again.
She coiled around, snaking for another pass. Tired of this lame tactic, Vergil sent out aqua blades from the force edge, summoned swords aiming for the creature's head.
And he must have hit a perfect spot, for she suddenly veered, grinding against the ground.
Popping back out from her facade, she stumbled about to kill him.
Before Vergil could attack, she looped in the air, then shot tail first into the ground, burrowing up to her mane.
Seeing her wide open, he charged.
Echidna merely sat there, smiling wickedly, then shifted into a glamorous pose. The ground below him suddenly opened up. Thick, cyprus tendrils shot from the ground.
The demon must have had the ability to extend them, they seemed to be smaller versions of it's own body. Now, he was surrounded by them, drilling faster and faster as they circled.
They began to swat down, the dangerous barbs slicing all around him.
Vergil danced furiously to avoid them, how embarrassing. From every direction they came; left, right, above, and all the angles in between, spinning and thrashing wildly.
One thorn-ed blade sliced clean through his shoulder. It seemed to stop him, but he felt odd. The wound healed instantly, it was like nothing to him.
He barely even felt the pain.
Echidna hooted in wild laughter when her scheme landed. Grasping her barb, he crushed it in his right hand, dealing pain up through it's nervous system.
Next came the barb's disintegration. He bolted straight for the now-very surprised Echidna, goring out a demonic roar. She began to burrow out of her nest, but not before Vergil struck.
Yamato bit clean through her chest and out her shoulder.
He felt his nerves gathering, and the strength within him stewed. In paltry seconds, he unleashed the Majin form.
His cruelest beliefs, his worst feelings, and all the rage in the world brought to the physical plane.
Vergil braced his feet against her, then yanked up and away, pulling Yamato free and tearing through her flesh at the same time. The katana glistered purple as it vanished and he hovered above.
Releasing his arms to the side, crimson lances of energy emerge, pulsating a gloomy aura. He charged once more, and burrowed both blades in her chest, all before she knew what was happening.
"You shall die." He spoke, and vanished within the aura. A lavender shadow moved within an unbelievable field of speed, barely visible.
Echidna let out a loud shriek of agony as the demon ripped through her torso, gashing at her from all directions.
He kept tearing away, throwing parts of her all across the ground with his claws. The creature tried to escape, but he pulled it back in, crushing her sinew in his hands right before her eyes.
It kept happening, more and more she felt parts of her torn free, severed from her core until she was barely alive. Raising her limp body high above, Vergil held her face in his hands.
He just stared at her, holding her their for minutes on end.
Virtually none of her tail remained, merely a fetid green stump survived in it's place. Her top half wasn't recognizable by human standards, flesh flayed and limbs missing.
Rain began to fall, soaking the trees and all it's companion-leaves into the earth, pieces of her burying.
Finally, as he gazed into her eyes, he spoke.
"Tell me what I wish. I don't want your easy death on my hands yet, share with me what I seek, then you'll have my permission to die."
It was the blackest speech ever uttered, each word containing more malice than the burn of the sun. She squealed, desperate to flee him.
Smiling, he let go it's mangled shape, and so it fled, to become dust again.
She flew into the trees, disappearing from sight. The unnaturally long night continued.
The Majin touched down upon his feet, scanning the tree line for movement.
It was close, he could sense it. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her ripping apart the foliage as she writhed about. The snake returned at last barely alive.
Vergil came forward, still triggered, "Are you still breathing?"
He slammed his scaled, taloned-foot onto it's face.
He towered above, sadistically watching her for eternity.
"Tell me, what are the pathetic ranks of the Order planning? From where do they conduct their desperations?"
Echidna moaned out in pain.
"It's as I said. . . Your powers are uncanny. It would awaken him."
His foot crushed down even further, grinding her head into the bark-covered soil.
She squirmed for him to release, but it didn't come.
"My patience is running low."
"Dante will form the core, it will awaken Sparda- Urgh! Sparda's power." It managed to finish, despite his compression.
The demon chuckled through sanguinary pain, "More like it would awaken. . . The end of this city, and later, the dominance of humans."
"What!?" The sense of shock he felt was indescribable.
. . .
"No . . . I-it hurts . . ."
Vergil turned his back to him and lifted his small torso onto his shoulders. Dante grabbed ahold of his shirt to stay up.
"Climb on me, I'll carry you." The child remained stoic in the face of bad fortune, despite the other boy being less strong willed, at least for now.
He soothed his brother's worry, "We better hurry, mom's gonna be worried."
He kept walking as careful as he could, to avoid him falling off.
"Vergil?" He heard him whisper.
"Yes?" He replied.
"You'll always help me when I'm down right?" Dante sincerely wondered.
Vergil lightly chuckled, "Of course, I promise. We'll stick together always."
. . .
"Dante will form the core, it will awaken Sparda!" It said again, his foot still planted, "Please let me go! You promised!"
Vergil clenched his inhuman fists, his own blood dripping from where his fingers punctured the flesh.
"I promised nothing."
It screamed just as he closed the amphibious claws of his daemonic foot together, crushing her head in his grasp like a bird with quarry. From the side, he saw the Banshee in black.
She'd taken fair form, snow white hair against her smooth tan skin. She walked towards him slowly, a serious-minded expression on her face.
"Come to join allies in death? How noble." He said as he raised his hand, preparing to release a blast of pure scarlet wrath.
But she surprised him in her response.
"If this is what the Order wishes us to fight, then I have no interest. They operate in the eastern quarter of Fortuna." She told him.
If he could raise an eyebrow, he would. His granite pupils stared out, silent.
"You'll find them across an overpass called the Gran Album Bridge."
"What else do you bring?" He questioned.
"Unless you require service of a carnal nature, I am of no more use."
Her form had become exquisite, unlike any he'd seen. But now was not the time for distractions, so he shook his head.
She nodded back, and so vanished into thin air. His gratitude to her was as a moment of silence. The remains of Echidna evaporated as rain, turned snow, fell in the new plain.
Ascending high in the air, opening his wings, he departed for the bridge. Above, the powder gently collected against his wings. One thing was left on his mind.
Back toward the main meat of the place, the city of Fortuna.
Finally, after minutes on end, he found the only major bridge in town. It was a long forgotten structure.
The path to the temple was open. He could see the Gran Album Bridge, the one so fabled by his strange Banshee. It spanned a hundred meters out to sea and to the base of this Order.
He flew down to the beginning of the viaduct.
It was to absorb the sights as they were, untouched by greed.
The Gran Album Bridge was truly a major feat of architecture. The long, narrow crossway had high struts of Gothic design that shot far into the air at regular intervals.
It was so thin that only three people could walk abreast at one time, a technique used in olden days for defense. Many a legend could be explained by this, such as one man versus many.
At the end of it was the Order of the Sword's headquarters.
Unlike the bridge he traversed, it was just a massive rectangle of white stones, with a few windows dotting the front. A long staircase rose from the end of the bridge to the front of the structure.
At the top was a wide, circular platform, which acted basically as a doormat.
Halfway across the plinth, he arrived.
The construct stunk of pretension, a disease he would eliminate. He growled one more time before he ran forward.
He blasted the entrance doors off their hinges, though it seemed like a dream, he had seen a vast sarcophagus made of what looked like granite.
As he'd approached it, it had begun to glow, but with a light that was welcoming. He touched it's lid, and it had opened as if it were light as a feather.
From it, an all-encompassing golden light glowed, and from within that glow arose a figure whose features Vergil could not make out. He knew he was looking at a shadow of a man.
Of unnatural stature, it wore a helmet and an armor of some kind, ancient. It possessed a lance, impractically long.
The corona surrounding left him with what would be blinded eyes to see.
There was a noise like glass breaking in the distance, or the sound a falling star might make—it was laughter of something demonic.
"I don't understand!" He charged forward and attacked, with a simple swoop from his astral shank, the beings turned to ash.
'The smell! Father!?' He frantically thought.
Vergil trounced around, breaking down colossal doors and destroying objects of holy worship. Then, he ground to a halt, finding himself in the open air of the outdoors again.
What he saw now was something he'd never dreamt of. Who would have thought this Island hold something like this.
A great, circular hall rose up to the sky in a column. Endless cloisters spanned up at methodical interims.
Everywhere he looked was gray stone, built in elegant arches and columns, like an ancient temple.
In the center of the cylinder was what appeared to be a massive thing, looking like a mummified creature. The height and width for it was a little too abnormal to be believed.
"Is it not beautiful?"
Vergil looked up and saw a figure suddenly standing on the balcony.
His sharpened teeth grit themselves, and he launched himself, wings agape, charging at this false prophet.
The sounds he made engulfed Sanctus, completely capturing his brain, rendering any logical thought or conclusion impossible.
He began to hyperventilate, from this unexpected, unimaginable horror, he wanted to run, but the image of this beast charging at him made his chest hurt.
Nauseated, the old man swayed back.
Vergil almost reached him, his savage fury getting oh-so close.
Something stopped him.
He felt pushed back, something rose from the mummified entity, standing in his way.
It was unmistakably Dante.
Vergil faltered, trying to avoid striking the body and causing him any harm. A demonic fist reached out and snatched him out of the air, holding his leg in an electrifying grip.
His hold over the form ceased, and his body weakened, the familiar grasp draining him of his power. The ascension slipped from his clutch, and lo he returned to his human visage.
The dark slayer slammed roughly against the wall and felt his back break. A devastating fall from so far above made things even worse.
Ulmarag opened his wings high, blocking Sanctus beside the body of his brother, the two emerged.
"Is it not your wish to become one with your brother once more, boy?" Umarag addressed him. "Dante has been waiting for you, for a long time now.
Within this, your bodies will combine just as you two were in mother's womb, melting into one, to manifest and awaken their god. . . And then He will return at last.
He will be free and everything will return as it used to be in this world."
Ulmarag leapt down, hovering a few meters above the stone before slowly touching down.
He held Dante's body by the neck, suspended by invisible puppet strings. He relinquished the hold, placing the body back into it's casket.
Standing on the curving walkway, beside the savior, beside his brother, and with Sanctus watching for sick amusement, Ulmarag pointed to Vergil, taunting him.
"Forever failure, you'll be doomed to an existence of nothingness, while we all reign once more." He said to the regressed hybrid.
From mountain high, a black laughter emerged, Sanctus enjoying this gladiator battle as he had commanded.
The daemon of nightmares joined in, the two mocking their easily-tricked foe. Do as he were told, then they might let him out of his cage.
Rising calm, the remaining twin locked eyes with his old foe.
"Hush, now." He said, and the laughter suddenly stopped, both dismayed at his calm, "You haven't let me join in on the fun."
He arose with a casual demeanor, and a sarcastic glare.
'Dante' had gotten up intent on ruining their day, and for a moment he'd succeeded.
"I had an inheritance from my father, it was the moon and the sun. And though I roam all over the world, the spending of it's never done."
At this, the pale rider didn't waste one second, rushing to meet Ulmarag.
He quickly drew Yamato, and the two commenced their clash.
Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it.
Once again I assure you Nero won't appear, he is just mentioned here and how he can sense Vergil presence as his father. :)
Will it's going to take awhile until chapter 15, I don't mean 1-2 month wait but I'm going to have a time for myself, away from Fanfiction.
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Gone Trumpo, I wasn't offended or anything, I deleted them because will you read it and it's over :) To be honest I don't know why I was complicating things for myself there. Ulmarag' powers of warped memories is used against Vergil/Dante in their first fight. He is the sand man, a demon of nightmares for kids more than adults. Will I'll consider it, not sure I'll do it, since it's too early. :) Thank you for that song, it's beautiful and fits the events from the people's views.
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Beta Reader Here: Hey everyone, continuing from the previous chapter's precedent of a note from me as well, I just want to add some stuff here.
I'm immensely proud of LxJ for continued improvement in English and Storytelling capabilities, as I had much fewer grammar issues to correct than any previous chapter yet.
The second thing is, this chapter is not consciously named after a metal song this time, and the reason for that is I couldn't think of a title that really fit.
Lilian thought about Message In Blood by Pantera, but it really doesn't seem to fit the overall vibe of the chapter, as it's more a progress to the plot and it's characters.
That and no one actually leaves a message in blood for anyone, be it symbolically or literally.
So I decided to do what I did on Cronos and make up a name. In this instance, it's related to the dialogue Vergil says at the end of this chapter particularly.
The quicker turnaround is thanks to the fact that this was also made of repurposed 'deleted scenes' if you will from past chapters, enabling a much larger amount of work to be done.
I listened to Blind Guardian's cover of 'Beyond the Realms of Death,' Ra's 'Do You Call My Name' and Lamb Of God's 'Overlord' when providing my rewrite.
That's my peace, thank you everyone!