The Devil of Zero

Disclaimer: Neither The Familiar of Zero nor Devil May Cry belong to me.

The Blizzard

– The Devil –

Air-Warship Eagle, Over Albion En Route to Newcastle
Afternoon

The wind was nice on Vergil's face, whipping through the spiky strands of his swept-back hair like an amorous succubus' fingers. The Eagle, apparently the Albion Royalty's last remaining ship, was headed due north-east away from their…rendezvous with the Windfall, now heavier by a dragon, a griffin, a giant mole and six more people. Well, five and a half and one-half of a devil. As Vergil was wont to do, he stood on the bow of the Eagle, which had one of the best forward vantage points, and scanned the floating continent below. To the common observer, he gazed in complete silence. However, Vergil's mind was filled with cacophony again.

He still wasn't quite sure how, but his experiment with Derflinger had given the sword a tactile telepathic ability. In addition to his loud, clanking mouth…hilt…thing, he could speak directly into the mind of whoever held him. And since Abaddon was a telepathic talker by nature, already connected to Vergil's mind…

"Bah, I don't know why I expected a mere sword like you to have any common sense!"

"Hey, Abaddon, I think you should check your head, maybe your brains went to your butt!"

"It's apparent that spears are obviously better if a sword like you can't come up with a good comeback."

"Absolute trash! Unlike me, you'd break like a twig under a knight's boot if Vergil swung you too hard!"

"As if a Devil Arm would break so easily! I think your talk is trying to compensate for something! Is the widdle sword jealous of big, long Abaddon?"

"Moron! You're slower than I thought if you're trying to use that old insult. Now, swords like me, we're quick and have a rapier wit!"

Thankfully for Vergil's now-fragile self-control, the conversation between the two weapons was stopped when he was approached from behind. Turning, he saw Wardes and Wales, the latter back in his pirate disguise, talking quietly while they walked towards Vergil. Trailing a short distance behind them was the rest of the Tristainian group, Guiche trying to get as close to Kirche as possible while Tabitha read as per usual. Louise was at the front, looking rather nervous.

"Ah! Sir Vergil!" Wales greeted, a warm smile peeking out from behind the fake beard. "We were just talking about you!" Vergil merely turned to face the prince fully and give him his undivided attention. "Ah, rather, we were talking about the situation this morning with that…Frost, did you call it? How appropriate…anyway, we were concerned about something it mentioned, about your father…" Vergil didn't bother to answer. That information could prove dangerous in the wrong hands, especially if any of the other Original Devils like Abaddon were brought here somehow…

"It's true." Louise blurted. Dead silence filled the air as they turned to gaze at her. Vergil, meanwhile, was forcing his hand back away from Derflinger's grip. "Vergil's father was a Devil known as Sparda, The Legendary Dark Knight." Again, Vergil had to keep himself from instinctively slaughtering the one spilling his secrets. They would have words after this mission. Many words. Some involving hovering, sharp, Summoned Swords.

"So…" Wales trailed off uncertainly. The stares had switched back to Vergil. The men had unanimously stepped back, Guiche pale and both Wardes and Wales eyeing Vergil with distrust. Kirche was actually eyeing him with greater interest, and had started playing with the neckline of her blouse, while Tabitha…just continued reading.

"He was a good guy though!" Louise said, elaborating. "He turned against his own kind to save Vergil's world!"

"Ah, to see Pride at work, so heartening." Abaddon sang. "After so long being a mockery, she revels in her magic having done something right, calling up you Young Sparda." And now Vergil knew that he really should have threatened her more.

"I see…" Wales righted himself, stepping forward again. "And this…Gelus, he was a Devil too?"

"No." Vergil replied. "He is an Original Frost, a species of Greater Demon bred to serve Devils as elite foot soldiers and bodyguards eight millennia ago in my world. They were powerful, but battlefield attrition combined with demonic interbreeding has diluted their power in their descendants, making modern Frosts much weaker than their ancestors." Vergil turned away from the group, gazing back towards Albion's land and searching. They were beginning to approach Zima's lair. "Why do you ask? It's not as if you'll ever fight a Frost, not after I finish with Zima."

"It is my business to know about all potential threats to my country." Wales shot back. "Even if it seems unlikely I shall rule it. Speaking of threats, what of you Vergil? From what Wardes has told me, this Gelus offered his allegiance and those of Zima's forces to you if you succeeded in killing her. Do I need to worry about Demons led by a half-Devil?"

"I've never sought power or influence in the realms of Mortals before." Vergil said. "And I seek no kingdom to rule. None of Halkeginia's nations need to fear me. Not unless they, to use my brother's terms, 'really piss me off'."

"Hmm." Wales contemplated Vergil. "You are an interesting person, Son of Sparda. I wonder if I will see what you become later on…"

At that moment, there was an explosion.

– The Zero –

Louise found herself falling. Bits of wood fell with her, seeming to float in mid-air or fall slowly from her view. She felt numb, before she suddenly realized that she was, in fact, falling rather rapidly towards Albion. Before she could shriek, a flash of white darted beneath her, and she fell straight into Wardes' lap.

"Viscount Wardes!" They were on his griffin familiar, flying down in a cloud of debris that was once the Eagle's bow. "What happened?"

"The Eagle was attacked." Wardes explained, pointing up. "There was a rebel ship hiding in the clouds, and the look-out didn't see it until it was too late." Above, Louise could see the Eagle being destroyed, bit by bit, as an enormous airship twice its size pounded it with cannon fire. The bow of the Eagle was completely gone, shattered into the pieces of wood that surrounded them.

"Where are the others?"

"Lady Tabitha has them on her dragon." Wardes pointed. Louise turned her head to see Sylphid with Tabitha, Kirche, Guiche and Prince Wales on its back, Verdandi held tight in the dragon's claws. Louise sighed in relief; at least she did before she realized something and froze.

"Where's Vergil!" Louise was desperately scanning for her familiar when Kirche waved and pointed down. Looking, she saw Vergil far, far down below them, ahead of even the smallest splinter of wreckage. "How in the Founder's name did he fall that far already? Never mind, we have to get him!" Sylphid was already diving fast like a falling arrow, its passengers hanging on tight. "Wardes, come on we have to get him!"

"My griffin can't carry him." Wardes explained coolly. "The only reason you're able to ride with me is you're so small and light. Miss Tabitha's dragon should be able to get him." Louise could only watch as Sylphid dove for the falling Vergil, getting closer and closer.

But they weren't able to reach him in time. Sylphid had to pull up or risk plowing itself and its passengers into the ground, and Vergil landed with a sick crunch. Louise had her hands to her mouth as they landed near him, leaping off of Wardes griffin and running towards Vergil's impact point.

And she found him standing as though he hadn't just fallen a few thousand feet down. He glanced around at the agape stares with a bored demeanor.

"We're going to have to find defensible ground." Vergil said, walking forward.

"What? Why?" In lieu of a spoken answer, the half-devil merely pointed up. Glancing up, they could see relatively small shapes coming out from the rebel warship, sweeping around the falling Eagle's wreckage and apparently searching for survivors.

Dragon Knights.

Before the group could move, the dragons dove down, their trajectory aimed right for the survivors. They circled as they descended, like carrion birds after a week-old corpse. The Knights on the dragons' backs held bows, drawing back arrows and aiming for the group of mages and familiars. They never got the chance to shoot though.

White and grey blurs smashed into the dragons in mid-flight, bringing the imposing reptiles down to the ground in an instant. The beasts that attacked the dragons were soon joined by others, tearing apart the winged reptiles and their riders into unrecognizable bloody chunks and quickly gulping the pieces down before turning towards the group they surrounded.

The creatures that had taken down the dragons were some strange cross between that Frost demon and dragons, while Frosts that were somehow more primitive than Gelus spread out to complete the encirclement. Rather than the kite shield and elegant talons Gelus had, these Frosts had a simple thick sheet of ice and four chipped icicle claws, and short, thin horns that were more like ears than anything else. The Frosts and dragon-Frosts left a rather large gap in their ring facing north, towards what Louise thought looked like a small blizzard steadily approaching.

And then Louise heard a dark, gleeful chuckle sounding from Vergil. The Frosts around…froze…and actually stepped back at the sound as Vergil stepped forward, facing the oncoming blizzard.

– The Devil –

"I figured that you'd be prepared for me." Vergil commented, walking forth confidently. "Although I'd rather hoped to still get the drop on you, but this will do." He sensed the others behind him gape as the blizzard drew even, the snowflakes drawing together and forming into an enormous form.

It was truly enormous, almost half as large as the Windfall. Large steel-colored scales armored a large eight-figure torso and four legs as thick around as a tree, with a tail twice as long as the torso waving behind, tipped with a ball of spikes. Vast wings that spread fifty feet tip-to-tip shadowed the entire area, while four lashing necks topped with enormous versions of Frost Wyvern heads maneuvered to allow the best vantage of Vergil for each one. A stump took the place of what would have been the fifth, primary head, an enormous wound sealed in a sheet of frost like Gelus' scars.

"I've heard much about you, Son of Sparda." Zima rumbled with a very, very slight feminine tone audible in the demonic rumbling and hissing. "The Frosts I've summoned have told me many tales of you and your brother. I wonder just how much of them are exaggeration though."

"Little enough for you to be concerned." Vergil replied, drawing Derflinger. "Now, let's begin." Zima certainly didn't waste any time, all four of her heads breathing clouds of snow that froze whatever they touched, all converging on Vergil. Vergil had already leaped up and Tricked forward, landing on the stump of Zima's fifth head and slicing into it with Derflinger. A hiss of pain escaped one of the heads as another bent around and tried to snatch Vergil off of Zima with its maw.

"You'll pay for that!" Her other heads shrieked, coiling around as the one currently assaulting Vergil struck forth like a cobra. Vergil merely leaped up, slicing at the throat of that head and landing atop it before stabbing straight down into the icy helm capping its skull. Unfortunately, the ice was too thick for Derflinger to penetrate all the way through it and Zima's skull. The head whipped about as Vergil withdrew Derflinger, sending the half-devil flying into the air. Zima snapped one of her wings towards him, ice encrusting it and forming a razor-sharp edge as it slashed at him. Vergil blocked the makeshift blade with Derflinger, propelled back towards Zima's back before he Tricked down onto it. Now two heads assaulted him, jaws snapping and trying to snag him. As he dodged, Vergil hacked and slashed at the scales covering Zima's body, doing little better than creasing the metallic plates as he dodged Zima's sharp teeth.

"Pathetic!" Zima used one of her heads as a whip, smacking the side of it into Vergil's body instead of trying to bit him as expected and sending him flying a dozen feet or more back towards his companions. Vergil rolled before standing back up, panting slightly as his broken ribs were reset and mended by his natural regeneration.

"You're going down." He promised, before tensing. Long ago when he had first discovered this ability, Vergil had likened it to the trigger of a gun, something that if you put enough force or energy into it would make a powerful reaction with devastating results. However, instead of the expected transformation, Vergil gasped and fell back to his knees as he felt agony. It felt as though he was under Mundus' torture again, his soul splitting apart…only where Mundus had made him feel as though the Prince of Hell was splintering his soul into thousands of pieces, Vergil now felt like it was distinctly split into three, one large and two small, for some reason.

"What's the matter? Afraid?"

Vergil grit his teeth and shook off the feeling though, abandoning his attempt to Devil Trigger. Despite how much he was opposed to the idea, with Derflinger unfortunately proving next to useless against Zima's hide and his strange inability to transform, Vergil would have to rely on Abaddon.

"Yes! Another battle in which to slaughter!" The spear crowed as Vergil sheathed Derflinger. Extending his right hand, Vergil summoned Abaddon, blood-red hellfire oozing out of reality to merge into the Spear of Destruction. Ignoring the shocked gasps from behind and twirling the spear about in his hand, Vergil leaped forward before stabbing Abaddon in the direction of Zima's closest head, a bolt of hellfire lancing out and exploding against it in a cloud of steam and smoke. A roar of agony ripped itself from Zima's many throats as the three other heads lashed about and breathed at Vergil again. Vergil whipped Abaddon about, streaming hellfire that collided with the clouds of snow and evaporated them instantly as he leaped up and Tricked at the head that was still recoiling from the hellfire bolt.

Landing adroitly on top of the head, Vergil took Abaddon in two hands and slashed the spear's blade across the ice-cap, the otherworldly ice melting and bubbling from the spear's heat. However, icicles stabbed out from around Vergil and would have impaled him if not for the blocking sweep of Abaddon. The ice-cap regenerated remarkably fast, forming back into a perfectly smooth surface where Abaddon had slashed even as more icicles tried to impale Vergil. Finally, the half-devil simply Summoned two sets of Spiraling Swords, the rapidly revolving rings of blades slicing away the deadly spikes of ice almost as soon as they formed. With the skull still closed off from assault, Vergil opted for another route, pouring Infernal Energy into Abaddon and making its blade flare with heat and hellfire, while Vergil ran for the edge of Zima's head. He dropped and slid off of it, one hand snapping into the ice with enough force to crack it and make a handhold as the rest of Vergil's body swung out before arcing down, Abaddon's point leading and stabbing into Zima's eye.

Another roar and the head lashed to try and dislodge the agonizing spear stuck in its eye. Vergil swung his body about and braced his feet on the eye-socket to wrench Abaddon free in gouts of steaming dark-blue blood before jumping off and falling for Zima's back again.

"It's time to finish this." Vergil muttered, Tricking onto Zima's back as her heads started to attack. The injured head struck first, biting for Vergil and missing as he leaped out, jumping off of a platform created out of Infernal Energy to land atop the head. Another head attempted the same, only for Vergil to react just as he did previously, except now the other two heads were attacking as well. A simple Trick up brought him out of the attack of the third head, but in line with the top jaw of the fourth. He kicked against the head's nose before it could reorient itself, ascending even higher above Zima, with all her heads lined up for a perfect shot. Vergil drew back the arm holding Abaddon, surging huge amounts of Infernal Energy into it.

"NO!" Zima cried.

"YES!" Was Abaddon's gleeful laughter as Vergil threw it. Unlike the explosion with Fouquet's golem, Abaddon focused the hellfire into a white-cored, blood-red lance of flames that pierced all four of Zima's heads and her back. The damage was astonishing, virtually vaporizing all of the heads and creating an enormous charred hole through Zima's back. Vergil landed adroitly before the corpse, bending his knees slightly to absorb the force of impact as Zima's body began to dissolve into a snowy blizzard again. Rather than dissipate, the howling snowstorm coiled around Vergil, temporarily hiding him from the sight of the others. When the snow blocking their sight faded away, the others gasped at what now adorned Vergil arms and legs.

White metal gauntlets and boots covered his from elbows forward and knees down, partly covered in what looked like pure, translucent blue ice that formed studs and spikes over the accoutrements.

"That...was…SWEET!" Derflinger exclaimed, just before a new, very feminine voice sounded in Vergil's head.

"Ah, I guess I can bear it, to be worn by one such as you."

"AGH! NO! This is my head, mine, you frozen bitch!"

"I believe it is Vergil's head, actually."

Before the voices in his head could get violent, Vergil twisted about, avoiding the swipe of four large icicle claws as a Frost Wyvern attacked. It didn't retract its arm before Vergil smashed the limb with a double-palm strike, the combination of his natural martial arts training and the Zima gauntlets' inherent power cracking the bone until it ruptured the Wyvern's flesh. A knee-strike snapped the creature's head up, where a rising dragon punch sent it flying, the knee-spike and studs in the gauntlet's knuckles carving divots in the Wyvern's throat. As the Wyvern's head fell back down, Vergil spun, bringing his right elbow and the spike protruding from it stabbing into the head, when thin but ridiculously long icicles shot out from the spike and through the Wyvern's skull.

Even as the Frost Wyvern fell dead, three Frosts leaped forward at Vergil from the front, icicle claws outstretched…before suddenly falling in three pieces each, head, torso and legs. Gelus approached from behind the fallen Frosts, inspecting Vergil and his new weapons before falling to one knee before him.

"As I said, I now offer you my services, Lord Sparda." The ring of Frosts and Frost Wyverns hesitated, before a cool, one-eyed stare from Gelus gave them a hint, and they too fell to their knees. "We are at your command."

Devil Arm File: Zima, The Frozen Limbs

A Russian Devil of ice and snow, Zima was once a Frost that terrorized numerous Siberian battlefields, ascending in the slaughter that was Stalingrad in World War II, taking the form of a Slavic dragon, a Five-Headed Aždaja. During an eclipse later in the war, she was torn from Earth and tossed into Halkeginia, Albion specifically, with a contingent of her lesser brethren. There, Zima spent her life terrorizing the dragon nests and devouring them, until an unfortunate encounter with a group of dragon hunters – including a mage with fire affinity – seriously wounded her, destroying her central head and slaying many of the Frosts that accompany her. While they died all the same, Zima has spent almost three decades recovering, feasting on those unfortunate enough to happen across her. Eventually though, she overhunted the area, leaving no prey left and forcing her to range wider in her hunt, until she encountered Vergil.

In the form of a Devil Arm, Zima is a set of apparently simple gauntlets and knee-length boots made out of very shiny white steel, yet covered in a translucent blue crystalline substance that protrudes in the form of short, thick spikes on the knuckles and the toe and heel of the boots, also turning the normally blunt fingertips into three-inch long claws. Crystal spikes of moderate length protrude directly out from both the elbows and the knees. Zima, as its origins as a Frost would indicate, has power over snow and ice, manifesting most obviously in a cold aura that wraps around its wielder. This power is more obvious when a strike from the wielder connects with the target, as Zima leeches the heat and life out of those it strikes, chilling them. By focusing Infernal Energy into the desired piece before striking, the effect of the heat leech can dramatically increase, even freezing the target's flesh down to the bone. Zima can also extend and fire supernaturally sharp icicles from the knuckles, claws, spikes or boot with enough force to penetrate even heavy steel tower shields and knight armor at point-blank range. As a defensive measure, the very air can be frozen into an unnaturally hard shield radiating from either the forearm or the palm as the wielder desires, capable of withstanding almost anything for a short duration, even resisting the infernal heat of Hellfire for a few seconds.

– The Author –

And now Zima is dealt with. I suppose I didn't give her all that much characterization, but here she's just being killed and turned into a Devil Arm, so I figured I could leave that to future chapters. Now, will Vergil accept or decline Gelus' offer?

Review Replies:

Takeshi Yamato: Pretty much.
Yeah, getting to Newcastle is going to be…interesting.

Lizeth: Snerk.
You're welcome.

Orchamus: Still planning, so Wales fate may or may not be death.

pyromania101: Obviously, there were…compatibility issues. I do have little romantic comedy skits planned for Zima though.
It joins many of my ideas in the 'interesting but not likely to live' folder.

Lunatic Pandora1: Trust me, when he gets well-known, most of the simpler enemies will start fleeing. Not that that guarantees survival, of course…
No problem, I'm rather fond of that quote myself.

bakapervet: No problem.

drake202: My most recent death was because some bastard wrote 'run straight ahead' right before a pitfall.
Yeah, the Dragon Age games are fun. I'm going through several playthroughs on II right now.

Kogane1089: Pretty much.

Kojiro Kun: I trust this chapter had enough battle for you?

Imperial Warlord: Thank you.