Epilogue

The New World.

The streets are lit by the phosphorescent glow of overhanging street lamps. Tall skyscrapers scratch the clouds of the moonless night. Times have changed. No longer do freshly knit rugs hang over the markets overlooking wooden huts and fire-pits. The dreggy wet ground has been replaced by asphalt streets and cement sidewalks. Shabby huts have been surmounted by multi-story apartment complexes and two-story brownstones. Iron and bronze has given way to stainless steel and titanium. Wood has acquiesced to aluminum and plastics. Hands have been replaced by the cold metallic grip of machines. The forces of nature have been subjugated by the works of man. A world ruled by science….but underneath the shroud of technological artifice still lives a world whose time is long since past, a world forgotten throughout the ages and reduced to myths and fairy tales; a world that still exists in the depths of night, and on the edge between the dark and the light. They, the demons, still lurk in the shadows hoping to satisfy their undying hunger….

Over time, demons have found ways to break free but few had ever returned to tell tales of the human world. Of those that did escape, none ever dared to return. On this cold night, one of these demons, a Vanguard of the Hell clan, has broken free of the gate and found its way into an alleyway between two ominous buildings.

It peers around a corner and sees the Human World, completely different from stories it has heard of how their world had been in ancient times. It is so different from the world described during the Rebellion, the world that the Traitor had attempted to save. The new technological advances almost scare it. How are they this smart? it thinks.

Then suddenly, twin .45 caliber hollow-tipped bullets tear through the demon's knees, sending it crashing to the ground. In the shadow of the alley, it sees a figure approaching, a human, a man.

It screams and grunts as the man shoves the hot-tipped barrel of one of his pistols directly into the demon's chest, causing its flesh to sizzle.

The man stands up tall, and looks the demon in the eyes without so much as flinching. He is fearless.

"Who….who are you?" The demon squeals gratingly.

"I am the Light that is borne in the Darkness, I am the true bane of evil and all those that worship it, I am the last hope in the face of despair, and even devils will cry before they taste my blade…"

The twin .45 barrels, one as dark as the Shadow of dusk, one gleaming with the chrome Light of the moon, smoke as the man holsters them on his back underneath his purple velvet coat. At his left, a thin oriental sword is looped to his leather belt. On his back, a huge broad sword accented with a skull and crossed bones at the hilt looms over his right shoulder. The white slicked back hair, the purple battle-worn clothes, and the glint of the blood red amulet hanging from his neck...

The man pulls the katana from its sheath with his left hand, holding it high over his head. At the same time, he brings the broadsword from his side and upwards, sending the Vanguard skyward. As the demon flies upward, the man brings the katana down with precision, splitting the demon in two. In continuance with this move, he re-sheathes the broad sword on his back, and twirls the katana around his fingers, quickly sliding it back into its scabbard.

The demon lies on the cold concrete of the alley, dying slowly. "How? You are just a human…." The man allows the demon to speak as he stares him dead in his eyes. "Wait….no….it cannot be…" The demon seems to come to an awful realization in an instant. "No! It cannot be you! You died! The Master killed you!" The demon has heard about this being for a thousand years, but he had been told that Mundus had killed him in his final moments in the Human World… "Those eyes….you are him…..you are…!"

The man does not hesitate with his next move; he quickly pulls out the twin pistols and aims them at the demon's carcass. "You got that right." Its body is riddled with bullets until all that is left are its ashes. As he turns around, the man flicks two coins towards the demon's remains. "For the boatman. Let him know that more business is on its way."

The man places his smoking guns back under his coat and puts his hands in his pockets. He steps out from the alley, and walks down the street. As he passes under a street lamp, the light drapes over his human appearance, but casts a dark shadow of his true demonic form, which follows him until he fades under the frail gaze of the solemn stars...

.

Creator's Note: Well, that is the end of this story. We hoped that you enjoyed reading and could appreciate the story and what we sought to accomplish with this fic. Although this is the end of the story of Sparda's awakening, we do have plans to begin the story of the Tales of his life and death in the subsequent 2000 years following the end of this fic. In the meantime, please check out our semi-canonical Vergil fic currently in progress, "The Hollow Worlds." Other fics on the backburner are a short Dormin backstory, a canonical Vergil fic beginning from the end of DMC1, and at least one novelization of a promising DMC1.5 fangame now stuck in development...hell (haha). I, the Editor, may also post further in-universe commentaries here in the vein of the footnotes, if there is interest, so stay tuned.

We would like to thank you for reading and certainly welcome any comments or feedback you have. Feel free to PM us about any questions you may have pertaining to any aspect of the fic--story, characters, footnotes, etc. Believe me when I say that we would be more than happy to reply. If you liked the fic, let other fanboys and fangirls know about it; our advertising department is non-existent. And don't worry, we don't get any compensation for this other than the satisfaction of revivifying the fanbase one reader at a time.

Until next time...Be good, and good night,

Moses, L'Éditeur Gris + Manny, Auteur Extraodinaire