Fourth Chapter of Interview with a Devil~
Hidden will to fight
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I finally got the chance to upload the fourth chapter, whoo!
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I do not own the Canon Characters, nor do I own Devil May Cry.
Warning: This chapter contains swearing and a bit of violence & gore.
The boy in his hold dangled helplessly in the air.
"….and you are driving my patience very much on edge. Now tell me, boy, why are you here, what were you doing?" the old man demanded, tightening his iron grip on the boy's collar, slowly but surely squeezing the air from his windpipe. The boy thrashed around even more before he gripped Agares's slender wrist with enough force to tear his hold off of him.
Clumsily, the kid landed onto hard marble floor with a grunt.
Boy's POV:
"Let go you old fart!" I shouted brashly with a sullen attitude. And before he knew it, I managed to pull the old Librarian's hold off of me only to land to the cold, hard floor. It was everything else but a comforting landing - especially when you're brought back to the cold ground of harsh realities that you're the weakest of them all.
It was a bit painful. I even felt my tailbone slightly cracking from the impact….. I just hoped that it would not leave a permanent mark. This would be last thing I'd need.
The old man's eyes glowered and a crease formed between his silvery eyebrows, making his old worn out face crinkle even more. "What did you call me, you little rat in rags?" he hissed, taking a step closer and looming over me like a giant.
As a younger devil, I only pulled a face in defiance but also slight fear. "You heard me." I tossed my head up proudly before springing up to my feet like a deft cat. Puffing up my chest, making myself appear scarier than I actually was, I balled my hands into small but tensing fists. I knew that I might not have a chance against this old man, even if I was very old.
Agares simply chuckled mirthfully.
That actually had caught me off guard for a moment. Sobered up I shot the elder a questionable glance.
"Oh, don't mind me boy. I think it's just absolutely adorable that a little white haired weasel like you acts all tough." I could clearly see that the old bastard tried his best to stifle an amused laughter. Every fool would find this quite comical – and it ticked me off to no end. You had no idea how much I've been in this damned situation. I was tired of it. It sickened me. I couldn't bear it any longer. Why was I such a laughingstock? Why did my parents cursed me with such weakness? Why do I appear like a helpless little human boy?
I loathed it when nobody took me seriously….and to my despair.. it was mostly the case.
"Shut the fuck up you old fool." The growl tumbled out of my mouth faster before I could even think of proper words. My impulse had gained the upper hand once again. Okay, I knew how to stand up for myself and how weakness was a thing to be frowned upon – but those words that rolled out of my mouth were indeed a big mistake. Bad move. Yes, there was certainly a reaction. His golden slanted eyes were boiling with a vicious glint I had not yet seen before in those uncanny old eyes….. but I did see this look in many other eyes.
It was the look everyone gave me when I did something incredibly foolish.
"Uh..-I.. I didn't mean-," came my reluctant stutter.
"By the looks of it, lad, I think you did mean it." His bony fingers clenched into balls of fists, his knuckles turning even whiter from the strength he was inserting.
He looked more ghostly now as the shadows passed over his face again and again. Was he revealing his true form? Did such an old crock still possess the power to trigger?
Before I could react – I was flung to the side from a hard slap to my left cheek. My small, seemingly weightless body hit a book-shelve with enough force to knock it over. As I planted unceremoniously to the ground, numerous of books covered me like an avalanche –automatically burying me in a grave of dusty old leather-bound books.
Agares's POV:
"..heh.. you still haven't answered my question, boy." He crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk stretching on his thin lips. Nothing was better than to put the lower in their place, even if Agares usually wasn't from the violent sort. Demonic blood was demonic blood and what was being a demon if you couldn't have a little fun with abusing your power?
First there was nothing.
Figures.
The boy probably was still gathering himself from the blow. Not that Agares intended to hit him that hard – just hard enough to show some respect for the elderly and slap some sense into him.
The books shifted and tumbled to the floor before a white shaggy patch of hair resurfaced along with a big pair of blue glaring eyes. "….." he grumbled nasty words in response, too incoherent for the elder male to comprehend in any sort of way but he could guess that those were numerous curses directed at him. Kids these days….
"Hah.." Agares guffawed with a shaking head. "Apparently asking you like a half-way sane person isn't going to bring us any farther.."
The boy dusted himself off and directed him another glare and straightened up proudly. What kind of idiot was he? Did he even know when to give up? His behavior was highly unusual and stupid.
"Perhaps.. something else would make you sing – other than curse at me." with a snap of his fingers, two Hell Vanguards appeared out of oozing pools of darkness right next to the boy. Their hands were swift when it came to clutching the boy by his upper arms. They did not spare him from anything.
The little devil released a whimper unbeknownst to him. Their grip was rough and painful.
"Is this the kind of pressure required to make you speak?" the old man tilted his head to the side pryingly. He placed both hands behind his back while his eyes again scrutinized the little creature held before him.
"…ah…well….ow!" he hissed when the two hellions applied more pressure into their hold. "My….name is.. sp…" he suddenly burst and spewed – from what, Agares did not know but he evaded the squirt elegantly by stepping to the side so the disgusting fluid would not stain his robes.
"Sp…? Your name is Spew?" He mocked with a back-toss of his head "Fits actually!" the laugh turned into a hearty roar and soon, the Hell Vanguards were laughing with him.
Boy's POV:
Chronic nausea spread throughout my body, infecting me with the common weakness of a lesser demon. It was shameful. The hunger and stress had gotten the better of me. Right now, in this situation I hurled all over the place. My legs shook, my arms trembled within their bony grasp. I wished I could just vaporize into thin air and remain a body-less entity without the drawbacks of a physical form. Even if they were the weakest of all souls, they were lucky enough not to suffer from such physical flaws as the others did, including me.
As the old bearded demon spilled laughter throughout the halls, infecting even the Hell Vanguards with his evil cackle, I hung my head low, biting my lower lip until a crimson bulb of blood bloomed out of my flesh, slowly running down my chin and jaw.
His arrogance and derision. I hated his guts, I hated his mockery. I hated all of them, those arrogant creatures. I wondered if the mortals felt the same in their own world. Do they undergo such tortures as well?
The anger within me boiled with such fire and irritation that I could burst out screaming but I managed to keep my composure. I've embarrassed myself enough in front of those supercilious arseholes. The dark cloaked Vanguards, guards and soldiers of the underworld, slowly loosened their grip on my bruising arms that swelled up in purple and blue.
Apparently, unbeknownst to them they were dropping their guard from laughing so hard about the nickname Spew.
The grotesque taste in my mouth didn't exactly make it better. The vomit mixed with the blood, becoming a dark nasty mash up.
Then without warning the old librarian stepped forward but I could only perceive his old, bony tones peeking from beneath his cloak. "Listen boy." He began in a wispy tone, unafraid to touch the mess streaming down my chin and tilted my head up so I would gaze up at him. My blue eyes fired up with defiance again, but there was something else hidden within.
Something that was only found in the most powerful of demonic beings.
A will to fight.
Still tilting my head up to him, Agares began to stroke his fine pearl-white beard in deep thought, examining my every feature before he was caught by the look in my eyes.
"No.." I grumbled lowly, showing my sharpened canine-teeth that were stained with the blood of my bottom lip "My name is," I paused for a moment to gather my strength and breath.
Then without hesitation, I whipped up my head proudly and displayed my resolve, strength and volition. I was not weak! I may not look like much, but one thing I knew that I wasn't weak! Seven hells! "My name is Sparda." I finally said in a shaking voice. I was so full with rage that I could barely contain my even and straight-forward façade. I didn't care how he would react to that.
I have a name! I was someone to be recognized and not ignored. It was my right! My birthright!
I wanted him to acknowledge my identity, my being, everything that I am. That I wasn't one in a million like the mindless beasts lingering in the dark, waiting to be ordered and bossed around.
I then peered up at the Hell Vanguards with brows closely drawn together. Disgruntled, I scoffed at them. "Yes, I do have a name!" I paused in attempt to wipe off the disgusting fluid off of my chin by rubbing it off the loose rags "Do the Vanguards have names? Or are they just called Vanguard No. twenty-three and twenty-five?"
Agares pursed his lips and studied me in utter silence. There was a hint of surprise and fascination swimming within those golden slanted irises of his. A switch of behavior. At first he was patronizing and wicked but when I mentioned my name, he seemed to be intrigued somehow.
Interesting.
However, the staring contest was beginning to wear my patience thin and so I focused my energy within me. The dark power flowed deep within my soul, controlled by the iron will I possessed since I had nothing else. It pulsed, burned and boiled up like water in a cooking-pot. It overcame me and my senses. Building up the momentum, I couldn't hold it in anymore and unleashed myself onto those creatures with blind rage.
Rays of dark light detonated from my body as I tore my arms away from their hold only to clutch them by their bony frail wrists. My eyes blazed scarlet and fire. I was not myself right now, but then again I was.
It felt so wrong…. it felt so right…
The Vanguards screeched in surprise, widening their already large red orbs but I didn't give them time to react for I moved faster then their eyes could follow. With a deep growl, I spun on my heel and swung Vanguard 'No. 23' against a nearby book-shelve with bulging ferocity. It slammed harshly against one of the shelves, knocking easily numerous of books out of their rightful places before the giant case fell backwards against another one, issuing a domino effect on the rest of the bookcases. One after another fell backwards with a loud resonating slam, causing the whole labyrinth of books to shake and fall apart.
The Vanguard moaned in agony with only little strength left to get back up on its large ugly feet. The other one whom I still held within my grasp started to tug and pull in order to get away but there was none of that. I kept my steely grip and grabbed the other wrist with my free hand, turning and twisting until I ruggedly broke its arm. The demon thrashed around, opening its jaws wide to unleash a deafening screech but I drove my fist up to its face and buried into its disgusting mouth, shattering some teeth in the process.
I felt nothing but the rush of thrilling excitement and power surge through me. I was alive. Something breathed life into me and now it was my turn to kindly return their favors.
The monster gurgled and choked on my fist until I tore it away. Next, I gripped it by its throat and exerted some pressure there. The skin and bones beneath my fingers felt so delicate now, so easy to break. It was almost ridiculously pitiful. Without giving it a second thought, I hurled Vanguard 'No. 25' against the other one with sheer force and knocked down the entire bookshelf. However this time, I heard their bones and organs crunch from the momentum before they exploded into large clouds of sand, leaving only a few rags behind. But it wasn't over. The bookshelf I managed to knock over created a sort of domino effect– one after another fell and collided with the cold marble floor.
Agares himself had already taken a precaution by distancing himself and staying out of range. However, he wasn't left unaffected by it.
His eyes had grown from the shock whilst he was clutching on a book with his left arm.
I ignored him for a while so I could watch the Vanguards disintegrate into nothing but useless piles of sand. A smirk spread wide on my lips. It was so damn satisfying. I could taste the victory – the thrill after a battle. It was even better than I thought it would be. All that anger let go on those mindless punching bags. I had never experienced such a vast power-torrent…
The experience shook me. It vibrated in my body, eager and keen on for my next victim to sink my fists in, tearing them apart from limb to limb. There was a hunger for more. I wanted their fear. I wanted Agares's fear! Kill!
Agares's POV:
He backed up against his desk that was the only thing that remained unharmed in this facility. Everything he worked for, everything that he sorted, written, bound was scattered about. It was absolute chaos in here. There was a pang of vengeful wrath stirring up inside of him but it was overshadowed by pure intimidation.
Agares was rarely frightened since he was pretty much used to being bullied or even beaten by the stronger unless it was Mundus himself.
The aura that the boy exuded was highly labile, powerful but most important of all, brilliant. Never had he seen a demon wield such strength, let alone such a young little lad such as himself.
The energy enveloped Sparda as he now turned to Agares. Agares tensed up in fear, clutching his book harder with his long taloned fingers, leaving some scratch-marks in the leather binding.
The boy smiled wickedly though his breath was ragged, his posture slowly slumping down from atrophy. He could already sense his weakening. Apparently this outburst had drawn out too much. No demon his age was able to do such a thing, let alone unleash such a strong wave of pure demonic frequencies.
"What.. what do you want from me?" Agares swallowed a lump down his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down behind his long withered beard.
Sparda tilted his head to the side, a feral expression marring his face. He looked like a vicious animal. No longer weakness but fierce intent was exuding from him. Slowly, like a reanimated corpse he trudged towards the old librarian. The white aura around him pulsed with each heavy step he took. His breathing became heavier and his eyes glazed from the current trance he was in.
It was uncanny.
And as he stood before Agares, he tilted his head up to him, a twisted smile further distorting his features. Agares held his breath for a moment, uncertain if he should flee or smack some sense into this boy. This Sparda, this little devil had no idea how to handle his own strength. But then again if someone wielded so much power at this age, of course he would not be able to control it. It controlled him!
"Boy..," Agares gestured calmingly, careful not to rouse any further raging outbreaks.
He did not dare to touch or approach him. The radiance squeezed the breath from his lungs, rendering him nearly immobile. What happened to him?
Rolling his head back and forth, Sparda's vermillion optics never left him. Covering his mouth with his small hand, he began to snicker. He seemed almost like a young demon laughing at his own prank but the voice shook him. It was anything else but typical. Different from before. Stronger.
At a certain point, it sounded like him and on the other hand his tone split into two separate voices. It sounded like a second person's vox resonated with his, echoing his every word.
The old demon couldn't think of anything else but to just turn and flee in the hopes that he might somehow get away with only a few scratches.
".. boy? Do I look like a boy to you?" a shadow behind the youth began to spread over the walls and grow at a rapid rate. It twisted and danced wickedly until it manifested in a shape of a devil. A true devil.
Agares shook his head slowly. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and dripped on his white robes, staining the fabric, the scent of fear thick on it. Sparda's nostrils flared before he sniffed the air greedily. "Are you afraid, you old bag of bones?" he took a daring step forward.
That was it. Alarm bells rung in his head. The kid destroyed his library, his centuries of work, killed the Vanguards single-handily and now was out to annihilate him? No, he wouldn't allow that! He must remain alive in order to further serve Mundus. He was his only assistant, scholar and secretary that kept the history of the demon world together.
If he would die, this whole order would fall apart!
Slowly, he gathered all his demonic strength which wasn't exactly a match to the boy's power, but he had to try. 0.1% Chance of getting out alive was better then 0%.
His canines grew and his vision sharpened once again, reminding him off his youth when he was in better shape.
Ah the days…
Driven from his thoughts and back to reality – Agares readied himself to lunge at the brat and take him down before he'll not only hurt himself, but the entire vicinity. Mundus would have his head on a spike if he let that happen.
Without warning, the silverette jumped at the elder before he could even react. Agares however was savvier and seized his chance. In a quick twist and turn on his heel, he evaded the rather clumsy tackle and materialized behind him, locking his arms beneath around his small starved form. Immediately, Sparda screamed and tossed around in his hold as if a higher possession had taken control over his body and soul.
He wiggled with inhumane speed and insinuated a friction that burned the elder. Agares grunted, his face distorting with struggle and pain by holding Sparda back from any further damaging. Well, he kept the damage away mostly from the library.
He began knocking his head backwards in the attempt to break Agares's nose but he turned his head evasively and exerted more strength within his hold. He injected all his strength to keep him contained.
Sparda hissed and roared, completely lost in his own rage and fierce passion. He had no idea how to handle himself. But then there was one moment where the boy had gotten slower, calmer, and Agares saw his opportunity. Pricking his own finger with a long curved claw, he used the small bloom of blood and pressed the bloody index finger against Spardas's forehead. The youth shook his head but he could feel his own body slowly turning limp.
Agares whispered a mystic and ancient Enochian incantation which worked wonders. It soothed him, his body and he could no longer hear the shouting and irrational cursing that he spat. His eyes dimmed down to their original ice-blue, the aura around him slowly fading into nothingness that appeared only like a puff of smoke and his skinny body slumped. Sparda's eyelashes fluttered while his lungs wheezed from the lack of air. Agares then noticed that he was holding him far too long and immediately dropped the limp, rag clad boy to the ground. The bloody-fingerprint remained on his forehead as did the rest of this bloody mess on his clothing and the corners of his mouth. It was a truly unglamorous picture.
His spirit was raddled and his body atrophied. But Agares didn't feel any better either. He breathed heavily and held his stomach from overworking his verdures. Silence recurred in the grand halls of the library. Everything around them was knocked over but thankfully the books and everything else was left unharmed. He took his time to regain his breath and composure. After everything had settled back to normal, the old man approached the unconscious devil with cautious strides and studied his every feature closely. Crouching down next to him, he brushed some of his sweaty silver strands from his forehead. The little Sparda looked peaceful this way, so quiet and untroubled. It was almost as if he were just asleep – if it weren't for the mess.
Curiously, he tugged at the sleeve of his rags to examine the fabric. It was very poor quality. He figured that he had a difficult time since birth. He was so skinny, bony, completely exhausted and yet, after all those hardships he had managed to perform such a feat. A truly peculiar case.
He wondered why someone of his status possessed such a strong and ancient name?
Agares leaned down to the little boy and scooped him up in his arms, carrying him to a nearby table to settle him down. With a swift flick of his fingers, blue flames flared up beside him, floating around him to enable a better view of his features.
Sparda had humanoid features, almost too human but there were subtle differences. His ears for example were pointy, a typical asset of a higher class demon. His arms and legs were very slim but possessed some lean strength, enough to allow him to be swift on his feat. He tilted his head to the side, catching the bloody spot on his forehead. Next to them throughout the window shined a bloody red moon. The moon of chaos and discord.
"Sparda…" he whispered to himself, repeating everything the boy had said in his mind. Agares never forgot. He was old and frail but his mind was sharper then a blade.
"That's ancient Enochian. No one of your status could possess such an old name." he licked his dry lips "It means Hidden will to Fight."