The Devil of Zero
Disclaimer: Neither The Familiar of Zero nor Devil May Cry belong to me.
The Awakening
– The Crusaders –
Newcastle
Dawn
They rooted about in the carnage like scavengers, rats that searched for the barely edible to survive upon, vultures that pecked cautiously, ready to purge themselves of excess if danger threatened. Both descriptions were perfectly accurate regarding the Reconquista soldiers that scrambled about the detritus of the battle that had begun and ended two days ago. For if they didn't come up with something, anything that placated the three mages standing just a few feet behind, it was possible that they would be the targets of Cromwell's wrath, even if on the surface it didn't seem that Reconquista's First General was the sort to do such.
The man was in his mid-thirties. He wore a round cap and a green mantle. From the first sight, one could tell that he was a clergyman. However, his features could be described as soldierly, with his long aquiline nose and intelligent blue eyes. From the edges of his hat, curly blond hair peeked out. He stood just behind the one rank of soldiers that were somewhat desperately digging through the corpses and other such leavings of battle, with a two others next to him, a green-haired woman dressed in a hooded cloak that concealed her features, and a monstrously tall figure that was just as obscured, its face by stained bandages wrapped about its head and its body by an enveloping cloak of white messily stained with dark colors. Two days of searching had yet to reveal the corpse of Wales, or Wardes for that matter, and despite that Cromwell didn't seem at all perturbed.
This only made the commoners even more nervous.
Eventually, the searchers entered Newcastle's chapel, and the horrific sight within.
Blood covered the walls and floor, dried after more than two days of pooling, crusted and flaky like rust. In the center of the chapel was what looked like some kind of magic circle. The soldiers made very, very sure not to get anywhere near it…and since they wouldn't get near the blood either, this pretty much means that they hid outside of the chapel while Cromwell and his small retinue entered. The small group approached the magic circle, staying clear of the rest of the chapel, and studied it. Like most of the chapel, the circle was bloodied. It differed in that it was because the carved circle still held blood within its small canals, strangely as fresh as though it had just been spilled, and covered with a thin film of ash.
"Well, well, this is interesting." Cromwell mused, studying the circle.
"A circle of Sorcery." The bandaged figure said, in a voice that was neither male nor female, and had no intonation or inflection whatsoever. "Someone has pulled a soul from the afterlife back into the Mortal Realm."
"Now why would they do that I wonder?" Ignoring Cromwell, the figure stepped forward, nearly touching the circle, and raised a hand above it. The hand, and what could be seen of the arm, was wrapped in silvery chains etched with slightly glowing blue inscriptions that obscured the actual limb from sight. As the chains shifted, there were small gaps through which one could occasionally see a glint of gold. The bloody circle pulsed with a purple glow for a moment, before fading again as the cloaked figure dropped its arm.
"Wardes was summoned from the Netherworld." It said. "And then his body was destroyed, and his soul taken by his summoner."
"What a pity." Cromwell sighed. "Can you figure out who did it?" Rather than answer, the figure turned towards Fouquet.
"You spoke of a familiar, a man who called himself a 'Son of Sparda'." It asked. "He came with Wardes?"
"Y-yes. The familiar of the Valliere girl." Fouquet stammered in reply. She took a shaky step back as the figure crept closer to her. The hand came out again; the wrapped chains gently caressing Fouquet's cheek under her hood before the figure withdrew suddenly. A misty strand of something trailed from Fouquet to the figure, colored a primarily blue shade of purple before disappearing.
"I have his aura." The figure intoned. "And that of his master. They lie in that direction." The figure pointed towards the eastern wall of the chapel.
Towards Tristain.
– The Zero –
Louise found herself back in darkness, like the dream after Vergil's duel with Wardes, but with no glowing orbs. Instead, there was a small portal in the darkness, and beyond it was what appeared to be a desiccated room of a castle, once well-furnished and immaculate but now despoiled by filth and half-rotten. Crouching there, in the middle of the room next to a bust of a woman with some kind of blade impaled in her, was a man in a red coat. Sheathed on his back was the familiar claymore that Vergil wielded in past dreams, and from what Louise could see, she deducted that this man was Dante.
Dante stood, back still towards the door, and stepped back a few times, apparently looking around at the room. Louise felt Vergil begin to move at that point, striding forward confidently, although there was a strange weight to his movements now. Dante turned then, and watched as Vergil stepped through the portal. There was a strange shimmering, and then Vergil was in the room. Dante just looked, even as Vergil drew his blade. However, instead of the curved sword Louise had seen him use, it was an enormous, somewhat organic looking two-handed blade as large as the greatsword she had seen Dante use before.
Speaking of Dante, Vergil's twin looked older now, not by much but enough to seem somewhat mature. Rather than go shirtless as in previous dreams, he had a black vest under the coat.
"This stinking hole was the last place I thought I'd find anyone with some guts." Dante said, shifting as he spoke. Louise was confused then. Didn't he recognize Vergil?
Vergil moved, bringing up his left hand and snapping his fingers with a metallic click, and Louise suddenly realized that there was clanking with every movement that Vergil made, like he was wearing a heavy suit of armor. To the side, two doors that led to a balcony creaked open, Vergil walking up to them. He turned briefly towards Dante, made a gesture to follow, and then ran through the doors, leaping up into the air and landing adroitly atop a wall, before turning and looking down into the courtyard below. Dante flew out through the doors in mere moments, landing in the courtyard lightly and looking about for Vergil. The half-devil through which Louise saw moved, holding his large zweihander upright in the air, the clank drawing Dante's gaze to him.
Vergil leaped, slicing down with the zweihander as he fell and embedding the enormous blade into the stone ground of the courtyard as Dante rolled aside, drawing the claymore. Vergil punched out with his free hand, and Louise was able to glimpse his arm engulfed in a blue-black armor that pulsed with strange lines of power, before a burst of blue-purple fire flare out towards the red-clad twin. Another roll and Dante dodged the ball of eldritch flame, at the same time bringing him towards Vergil with a sweeping slice at his mid-section.
Royal Palace, Tristain
Morning
Louise woke suddenly, with the feel of hands on her body lifting and moving her. It was shocking, until she recalled where she was and looked around. She was high in the air, above the familiar capital city of Tristain, between one of the large draconic demons called 'Frost Wyverns' and Tabitha's familiar Sylphe. Vergil was holding her by the legs on the Wyvern, while Wales on Sylpid supported her torso as they transferred her.
"Eh? What's going on?" She asked, a bit shakily, but not unreasonably so considering she was dangling between two large flying creatures over a thousand feet in the air.
"We are changing mounts." Vergil stated, infuriatingly calm from Louise's perspective. The half-devil familiar hoisted his master's legs, letting Guiche grab them and properly lower her onto Sylphid. The wind dragon seemed a bit put upon from all they were piling on it, from the supplies that they had from Newcastle, to Louise, Wales and the rest.
Their journey from the disastrous battlefield back to Tristain had taken two days, riding on the cold and inhospitable Frost Wyverns for most of it so that they wouldn't tire Sylphid, in order to use Tabitha's familiar just for this part. Vergil had explained, and somewhat dictated, the plan to them, seeing as how he didn't want to expose his new minions to the rest of the world just yet.
Louise, as she righted herself to a more comfortable posture, thought that it was a bit of a useless gesture considering how the devastation the Demons had wrought on Reconquista's forces definitely meant they wouldn't just be forgotten. Certainly she wasn't going to be able to erase the blood and gore of their slaughter for a long, long time. As she mused over this part of her familiar's plan, she noticed said familiar crouching on top of the Frost Wyvern's back.
"Vergil? What in the world are you…?" He jumped.
– The Devil –
Vergil took a bit of pleasure in the feel of the air rushing past him before landing, creating a tiny impact crater as he crouched to absorb the force of the landing, right in front of two very startled guards. Rising to his full height and brushing some dust off of his coat, Vergil patiently awaited the descent of Sylphid with Louise and the rest, as guards from other parts of the Royal Palace rushed to the scene. It was actually rather amusing to see them draw swords, spears, and spell-blades to confront him, the one who was personally responsible for the complete annihilation of the 616th Demonic Legion, former master of the Hell Vanguard, Summoner of Temen-Ni-Gru, and former Lieutenant to Mundus, a Prince of Hell. This rabble wouldn't slow him for a second if he was a hostile invader.
Then again, he was sure that this ensemble of defenders would be rather more intimidating to one of the mortal people that inhabited this realm, so allowances must be made.
At this point, a full platoon of guards were attempting to encircle him when Sylphid landed, bringing the Academy students and a hooded Wales down with it. Following them were some flying beasts that Vergil assumed were manticores, mounted by knights. Louise dismounted first, walking right up to the guards.
"Drop your wands!" The apparent leader ordered, with hesitant obedience from the students and Wales. "Flying above the Royal Palace is currently prohibited. Didn't you know that?"
Louise nodded, and introduced herself in a firm voice.
"I am Duke de la Vallière's third daughter, Louise Françoise, not someone suspicious. I request an audience with her Highness, the princess."
The apparent commander of the manticore-mounted knights, a somewhat tall mustachioed man, twitched as he heard the name. Apparently, Louise's family was well-known. He lowered his wand.
"You are Duke de la Vallière's third daughter?"
"Indeed."
Louise raised herself and stared straight into the commander's eyes.
"I see... you have your mother's eyes. Well, what is your purpose here?"
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you. It's a secret."
"Then I'll have to deny your request. I cannot grant you an audience with her Highness without knowing your purpose. I could lose my head over something like that!" the commander replied worriedly.
"I would be perfectly happy to remove your head now and save your superiors the trouble when they learn you delayed the return of Princess Henrietta's trusted agents." Vergil remarked, his body set in its usual regal stance, arms loose and hands at his sides. The commander bristled at this, stepping forward and raising his wand again, his subordinates doing likewise.
With a simple wave of his hand, Vergil summoned three sets of Swords, and brought them slicing down around the group. The guards stopped and gaped with ashen expressions as the glowing, ethereal copies of Force Edge planted themselves before them.
"Move." It was a simple word, yet one with much force behind it that caused the guards to shuffle aside, opening a path right into the palace for Vergil and the others. The Son of Sparda strode as usual, ignoring the flabbergasted and fearful faces of the guards, with Louise, Kirche and Guiche following with quite a bit more apprehension. Tabitha, as usual, had her face hidden behind a book, while Wales seemed a little shocked at how readily Vergil cowed the guards even as he followed, features concealed under the cowl of his cloak.
They didn't make it halfway there before a person clad in a purple mantle appeared from the palace gates. Seeing Louise, she frantically ran over.
"Louise!" Seeing the figure of Henrietta rushing over, Louise's face lit up in a sort of weary joy.
"Princess!" Under the now completely befuddled gazes of the guards, the two embraced in a hug.
"Aah, you came back safely. I'm glad. Louise, Louise Françoise…"
"Princess..." Louise's eyes began watering with tears.
"The letter... it is safe?" Henrietta asked. Louise nodded before going back and grabbing Wales by the hand, pulling him up to Henrietta.
"He has it." Louise explained, firmly setting the Prince of Albion right in front of her monarch. Henrietta paused, confused, until Wales shifted the hood of his cloak, and grabbed her hand, sliding the Water Ruby over her finger as it and Albion's Wind Ruby reacted, creating a small rainbow that arced between their hands. Henrietta's face brightened, and tears started streaking down from her eyes as the two royals embraced each other.
Tristain Royal Academy of Magic
Night, Two Days Later
After all the events he'd experienced in the past two weeks or so, the summoning, Fouquet and Abaddon, the mission and Zima, Vergil found himself relaxing ever-so-slightly in the peaceful days that followed his return to Tristain. However, he was unable and unwilling to truly let himself go, what with Louise still experiencing his past through dreams. Now, she was going through his time as Nelo Angelo at Mallet Island. The first duel with Dante had, for some reason, been split, taking two days for her to see in its entirety. Then had followed the time he had stalked Dante throughout the castle as his twin dealt with demons, from the annoying Marionettes that Mundus had used, to the sinister and deadly Sins, with their scythes and scissors.
From the looks of things, it seemed Louise wasn't going to see anything that happened beforehand, so for now it seemed the secret of his past was safe. A good thing, since while their relationship had been mending since he'd rescued her from Wardes, there was still a distance between them, due to her foolishness during the mission. And with that rift, there was a good chance everything could go bad quick if she ever learned just what he had done, and been willing to do, in his quest for power.
Another factor preventing anything near total relaxation was the upcoming war with Reconquista Albion. With the confession wrought out of Wardes, Tristain's politicians and military leaders were rushing to prepare for invasion. And, with Wales telling them of Vergil's performance at Newcastle, they'd be begging Louise and him to go onto the battlefield. At the thought of Wales, Vergil recalled the debacle that had ended in them forcing the then-unconscious prince through a tunnel Verdandi had dug and out to where Vergil and the Frosts had met them.
That had come about when Louise and the others had learned just what Henrietta's letter to Wales had said, asking him to flee into exile in Tristain, and live with her despite the upcoming marriage. Wales had refused to do so, intending to stay with his forces.
Vergil could understand the honor that bound the man there, but practicality demanded the action that would best ingratiate him to Henrietta, Louise's liege and by extension, Vergil's. So, he'd knocked the Prince of Albion unconscious and bundled him up to ship with Louise and the others. Surprisingly, his subjects had actually agreed with Vergil, helping in the act even as they prepared to fight to their deaths. That kind of loyalty was truly admirable.
The Son of Sparda stood in the courtyard of the Academy, thinking these kinds of thoughts, when a voice came from behind.
"It's so peaceful out here at night. It lets you think calmly. Don't you agree?" It was Siesta the Asian-looking maid he'd questions weeks ago, standing just a few feet behind him. Truly I am too relaxed, to not notice her approaching.
"Yes, it is." Vergil said simply. He himself had only a few times in his life where there had been peacefulness, serenity like this. Most of them were small, short spots during his quest, when he had traveled in the Mortal Realm in-between destinations of the kinds of high-population cities some demons frequented, when he'd traveled in the countryside of forests. Two stood out. His life before Eva…died…and the time just before he and Dante had truly split apart, in Fortuna…
"Vergil, how do you do it?" Again, Siesta's words interrupted his introspection.
"Do what?"
"How do you fight against the nobility and their magic? How do you do such dangerous things as fight a whole army? Where do you find the courage?" Vergil was silent for a moment.
"It isn't courage or anything like that with which I act." He said finally. "I just have a goal, and a path towards accomplishing it. Those things you mentioned, and other experiences throughout my life, were nothing but obstacles to be destroyed or circumvented in my pursuit of that goal. Necessity guided my actions."
"Necessity, huh? I see. Thank you Vergil. Goodbye." Something in that caused Vergil to turn and watch as Siesta withdrew, heading back into the castle. Even after the maid disappeared from sight, her farewell remained with him.
Reminding him of one he said long ago…
…in Fortuna…
Shortly Afterwards
Vergil was still awake, as usual, and patrolling around the courtyard when a rather large man in an apron ran up to him. Studying the person as he approached, Vergil recognized Marteau, the Academy's cook. He'd seen the man, along with some of the other servants, after his duel with Guiche during meals when they'd gone out with Siesta to praise him.
"Sir Vergil!" The cook gasped as he drew near, the run apparently taking a lot out of him. "Vergil! You must help!"
"What is it?" There was probably quite a bit of irritation in his voice, but Vergil resigned himself to listening.
"It's Siesta! She's been taken!"
"Taken? By who?"
"Lord Mott, the royal court messenger!" Marteau gritted out. "A depraved, vile noble who does what he wishes with commoner women like Siesta! Please Sir Vergil, you must save her!" Vergil paused before answering. Truthfully, it would be much less troublesome to remain out of this matter. And it wasn't like he really owed Siesta anything. However…
"I'll go." Vergil said. "Where is his estate?" She was the only one who was polite and kind from the start.
I can't just let someone like that suffer like this…A truly Dante-like thought…
Inside his Dimensional Armory, the two Devil Arms exchanged psychic feelings of amusement that went unnoticed by their master. Truly, they were fighting more on the side of angels than ever before.
– The Maid –
Count Mott's Estate
Midnight
In the brightly-lit bath room of Mott's estate, Siesta shivered as the water cooled on her bare skin. She remembered Mott, arriving late in the day to deliver a message to the Headmaster from the palace, catching sight of her…and catching her as well, as she was finishing her duties in the castle, dragging her with him to demand her service from the Headmaster.
Since Mott was a palace messenger, the Headmaster couldn't refuse.
At least, Siesta thought weakly, my family will benefit from the pay here…
Then, the door burst open, and four laughing, stumbling men entered the bath room, looking about until they spotted her.
"Ha! There's the wench!" One of them slurred, apparently quite drunk. He laughed, moving closer as Siesta shrank against the wall of the bath. "Didn't I tell you? Biggest tits you'll ever see!"
"Holy Founder! They're enormous!" Another gaped, moving closer with his hands reaching for Siesta. She slapped them away. The men's expressions grew dark, harsh, and the man she had slapped returned the blow, but against her face, knocking her against the side of the bath.
"Stupid bitch!" He growled. The others laughed, as Siesta's face ached and tears started rolling down her face.
"Alright now, let's get this over with!" The first man who'd entered said, unhitching his belt.
"Wait, wait, I though Mott wanted first time with her?" One of the other, quieter two said.
"Pfah, as if he'll notice! A wench like this, she's probably been used a few dozen times by now!"
As their laugher sounded again, echoing off of the walls, Siesta's vision faded…
?
Siesta's eyes snapped open, and immediately the maid was confused. Rather than the bath of Mott's estate, she found herself upon a mountain, high enough that snow piled behind her, but low enough that the treetops of a forest stretching before her drew equal. She was also clothed, unlike in the bath, and the garment was strange to her, something like a black robe that was tied at the waist with a red sash. From the feel of it, it was made of a very fine material, maybe even silk.
"Siesta." The voice, dark and deep and inhuman, came from behind her. Siesta twisted about, and behind her, built into the mountain, was a large structure that enclosed the mouth of a cave that dug deep into the ancient natural edifice. It had a strange style roof that went down from a peak to curve back up slightly at four corners. From within the shadows, there was movement. An enormous figure, at least twice as tall as Siesta, emerged from the cave. It was somewhat humanoid in shape, armored in a strange black armor, individual pieces made out of large iron plates, with armored skirts. As the figure drew out of the shadows, its inhuman nature became more apparent. Its legs were more like the front limbs of a griffon, enormous avian talons, and while its arms were more human-like in shape and proportion, large claws sliced out from the tips of the gauntlets' fingers. From its back sprouted enormous wings, at least twenty-five feet from tip-to-tip, if not more, made of black and dark, brown-red feathers. Its head, when it was revealed, was that of an eagle, with a cruelly hooked beak and sharp, insightful eyes.
And then, in a whirlwind of shadows and feathers, the beast disappeared, and in its place stood a man, wearing a robe similar to Siesta's. For a moment, Siesta could only stand and stare, agape at the sudden transformation before the features of the man struck her. While individual and unique, as with anyone, there were elements that reminded her of the faces she had seen every day for most of her life, growing up in Tarbes, her home village. And of the face she saw every time in the mirror…
"Great-Grandfather!"
"Siesta." The man, her ancestor, greeted, smiling. "It's so nice to see you directly, after all these years of watching you and your siblings from afar."
"H-how is this possible?" Siesta stammered. "Is this the afterlife? Am I dead?"
"No." Her ancestor shook his head sadly. "Although you are in danger of that fate. This place, it is a dream. A memory. But sadly," He sighed, "There is no time for that now. I have something important to tell you."
"What?" Siesta was definitely confused by now.
"Your friend, Vergil. You are like him."
"What! No, no I can't be! He's so strong…so fast, and so powerful…I'm nothing like him!"
"It is true you are not as powerful as he is." The spirit before her acknowledged. "For my blood is diluted within you, and I was never as strong as Vergil's father. But nonetheless, the blood of a Devil courses through your veins Siesta. I am displeased that it has come to this. I had hoped my line could prosper in this new world that I had fallen into…but these nobles take too much, and this one must suffer." Her ancestor moved forward, taking one of Siesta's hands in his own. "I cannot take action. My body is long gone, and my soul is weak." Suddenly, the man was gone, and the monster, armored and feathered and winged and beaked, stood, one of his talons piercing through her palm.
"With my last act, I awaken your blood, Siesta, Daughter of Chi no Ishi, the Tengu of Fuji-san." His voice rumbled, forming clouds in the sky above as the aquiline eyes shone blood-red. "Use my soul to slay those who would seek to harm you and your loved ones. Use my power to punish those who shelter darkness in their souls. With my blessing, AWAKEN!" The avian monster, the Devil, vanished in a flurry of feathers, and in Siesta's hands formed a weapon, a small scythe-like weapon in her bloodied right hand, connected by a chain to a heavy weight that dangled from her left hand, clenched into a fist.
In the real world, the men were still undressing when Siesta's eyes snapped open, glowing a baleful red.
– The Author –
Alright, now when I originally posted the snippet of this chapter, I was intending to write the part where Louise accidentally gets drunk off of a love potion. But, I decided to carry out this part, something HolyKnight5 suggested and I thought sounded awesome.
As for the hints I'm dropping about Vergil, I decided to start filling in some of his blank backstory with my own ideas. Like I said before, I'm ignoring the manga and novels that had him in them, mainly because I haven't read them, but also because I kind of like the idea of his past I have in mind.
Vergil and Siesta's discussion, while I was writing it, brought up a lot of thought about 'courage' and 'bravery' in me, and how it may apply to the Sparda Twins. According to Wikipedia and the internets, Courage (and its numerous synonyms) is defined as "the ability to confront fear, pain, danger, uncertainty, or intimidation." Now, where in the series have we seen either Dante or Vergil ever be afraid, uncertain or intimidated? Or even considerate of pain or danger? If they've never truly experienced one of those, can it be truly said that they're courageous and brave? Dante confronts everything with a general aloofness and lackadaisical manner, while Vergil just has this ever-present stoicism and sometimes scorn. Despite things that would have downright terrified almost anyone else, they've had the same general demeanor. The most emotion seen out of them in their situations is more anger and wrath. Are they even capable of feeling fear and acting against it? Or has their half-Devil nature completely inured them to any and all sources of terror, and thus precluded them from real courage? It's something to think about, philosophically.
Review Replies:
pyromania101: You're a right blood-thirsty reviewer aren't you? Here we are, just finished killing off Wardes and consigning his soul to torment and you're already calling for someone else's death.
Orchamus: He just might like the elves, if just that they're pretty much one of the few races that would pose a challenge for him.
drake202: Hmm, I'll have to check that out…
Lunatic Pandora1: With this character, I'm intending to draw in another universe too.
Kogane1089: I like it so far.
Knightmare Gundam of Ni