Finally! It felt like an eternity to reach this point, but I had been wrestling with a serious motivational slump.

I had to split this chapter into two parts because it became overwhelmingly lengthy. And honestly, I somehow lost track of the main thread while working on this chapter and couldn't be bothered to find it. ;) Starting over was out of the question too.

Nevertheless, I hope you'll find this chapter, despite its dialogue-heavy and Frankenstein-like nature, an engaging read.

Chapter 3: Ticking Time
Part One

Less than an hour had passed since Trish had left the office, closely followed by Kali. Silence had taken over the office, broken only by the rustling of papers and the static hum of the fan. It was too quiet for Dante's taste, but the jukebox was currently out of commission thanks to the blonde she-devil and her electric powers.

Within this stifling stillness, Dante leaned against the old billiard table on the second floor of his office. The space, initially designed for recreation and leisure, had been repurposed into his makeshift bedroom.

Ever since he rented this office, Dante had discovered that the old leather couch, while not luxurious, was comfortably adequate. It offered him a clear view of the stairs and the entrance, ensuring nothing could sneak up on him—a vital necessity in his line of work as a devil hunter. Demons never slept, and Dante's vigilance never wavered. It suited his practical nature and the touch of paranoia that naturally developed in this line of work over time. More importantly, it gave him a cherished sense of security.

With a half-empty pizza box in one hand, he savored a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza, his devil-may-care grin momentarily replaced by a contented smile.

The billiard table, once the focal point of entertainment, now stood as a silent testament to Dante's aversion to tidying up after himself. Its surface was a haphazard collage of clothes, remnants of past missions, and an assortment of odds and ends. It mirrored the overall state of his office, offering a tangible glimpse into his unconventional lifestyle. Indeed, his life defied convention at every twist and turn; this disheveled billiard table was just one more piece of the puzzle.

Dante's gaze oscillated between the pizza in his hand and his elder twin, who remained engrossed in the dusty occult books strewn on a crooked shelf between the billiard table and the couch. It was a meager collection, and Dante couldn't even fathom how most of those dust-catchers had ended up in his office.

As Vergil meticulously flipped through the pages of a particularly ancient-looking grimoire, his expression a mask of deep concentration, Dante couldn't resist the urge to tease his stoic sibling.

"You know, Verge," Dante began in his usual playful tone, "I always thought your idea of a good read was a dictionary or something equally thrilling."

Vergil shot Dante a deadpan glare, his piercing gaze drilling into his brother's playfulness. "Very funny," he replied curtly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He closed the grimoire and firmly shoved it back into its place, clearly dissatisfied with its content.

Dante's grin only widened in response to his brother's irritated reaction. It was in these moments of banter that he found an odd sense of camaraderie with Vergil.

Spotting an opportunity to disrupt Vergil's composed demeanor, Dante reached for a magazine squeezed between two ancient books, its cover adorned with scantily clad women. He teasingly dangled it in front of Vergil, who scrunched his nose in disdain.

"How about this one?" Dante continued, his voice laced with amusement. "Maybe there are some hidden gems in this?"

"I highly doubt it," Vergil retorted, his sigh hinting at underlying exasperation as he dismissed Dante's antics.

With frustration and disappointment, he pulled out another book that bore the scars of the hunter's boredom—bullet holes riddled its pages, clear evidence of Dante's restlessness. A heavy sigh escaped him as he shoved the damaged book back onto the shelf with more force than necessary. "This is all useless," he grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest, feeling the weight of time bearing down on him, testing his patience.

After savoring another bite of pizza, Dante nonchalantly tossed the empty box onto the cluttered billiard table, adding to the growing pile of laundry and forgotten items. He wiped his fingers, considering his brother's predicament. "If you'd care to enlighten me about what exactly you're searching for," he mused, "I might consider helping. Two brains are better than one, after all."

"I don't think your meager intellect would be of any substantial help," Vergil retorted, his angry gaze still fixed on the books as if they were to blame for his situation.

Dante playfully rolled his eyes, and his grin remained lighthearted as he pushed himself away from the pool table. "Well, Verge, I may not share your book fetish, but I have something far more important: I have resources." He sauntered past his brother with a carefree swagger. "There's a place I know," he teased, his tone breezy, "a haven overflowing with occult tomes. But I guess my help is not wanted."

Vergil's irritation grew as he inquired, "And what place might that be?" His twin merely shrugged nonchalantly, then descended the stairs with purpose and took a seat at his desk in a deliberately casual manner.

The demon hunter settled into his chair; the creak of leather and the thuds of Dante's boots on the desk was too loud in the stifling silence. He reached for one of his magazines, but before he could open it, his field of vision was engulfed by the gleaming blade of Yamato.

"For real?" Dante muttered, throwing the magazine back and leaning back heavily in his chair. "Could you stop doing that? I know I need a shave."

"Tell me," Vergil's voice rang out with an edge, his patience fraying. He took a step closer, the glint of Yamato's blade dangerously close to Dante's personal space, forcing the hunter to tilt his head back.

But even now, Dante had a confident grin on his lips. "Say please," he shot back.

Vergil's demeanor remained as cold and unyielding as ever, signaling that he wouldn't indulge his brother's playful banter. Instead, he opted for a more ominous approach, the grip on Yamato subtly intensifying. "I won't repeat myself," Vergil stated coldly, a silent threat in his words, and he released a sliver of his suppressed demonic power, just enough for Dante to sense it, making it clear that he was not to be trifled with.

Dante's grin wavered as he locked eyes with his brother, realizing that the time for playful banter was over.

"Alright, alright," he relented, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Just ease up on the sword, will ya? I'll spill the beans."

Vergil maintained his grip on Yamato but took a subtle step back, signaling his willingness to listen.

"But—," Dante began, prompting a soft sigh from his exasperated sibling. He let his arm with the katana sink and massaged the bridge of his nose. Dealing with Dante always seemed to involve a but.

"Before I tell you anything," Dante stated firmly, gesturing to the few visible markings on the back of Vergil's left hand, "I want to know what those wolves were all about." He had been curious about them since those demonic canines swooped into the fight on Mallet Island.

Vergil regained his composure, his eyes narrowing slightly as he rolled up his sleeve to his elbow, examining the markings himself. They bore a resemblance to the ones V had engraved into his skin.

A surge of power emanating from Vergil rippled through the air, and within moments, the markings transformed into heavy smoke, coalescing into two wolf-like creatures.

Their fur was as dark as midnight, streaked with faint azure lines pulsing with demonic energy. Instead of the usual single pair of eyes, each wolf possessed two pairs, four eyes in total, gleaming with a menacing and intelligent intensity. What truly set them apart was their maws, brimming with too many sharp teeth, glistening like polished obsidian blades.

As Dante observed these smoky manifestations, his curiosity turned into wariness, and he was glad that he hardly ever put down his pistols.

Though the creatures didn't attack, their deep growls reverberated through the room. Their hackles were raised, and their unwavering gaze fixed on the demon hunter, a silent and vigilant presence.

"I stumbled upon them when they were on the brink of death," Vergil explained in his characteristic stoic tone, undistracted by the growling predators flanking him, "and I intervened to save them. Now, they owe me a debt of gratitude."

Dante's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You? Saving demons? That's not your usual style, bro." he remarked, his playful tone mixed with genuine curiosity.

Vergil gave him a subtle glare but chose not to engage in the banter. Instead, he elaborated, "Don't mistake it for altruism. These were once powerful beings, and I merely sensed an opportunity to make use of their abilities." The wolves faded back into smoke and returned to Vergil, who lowered his sleeve to hide the markings, his expression unchanging.

"You're always up to something, aren't you?" Dante grinned, fully aware of his brother's inclination to seize any advantage that came his way – an unwavering pursuit of his goals, even if it meant using the demonic tricks his once-discarded human part employed.

"I merely like to be prepared. But enough of that. Now it's your turn."

Dante opened his mouth, ready to speak, but before he could utter a word, the creaking of the main door interrupted him. Both men turned toward the sound, spotting Trish as she entered the building. Expensive-looking paper bags casually slung over her shoulder, her nonchalant demeanor contrasting with the tension in the room. Trish closed the door with the slim heel of her boot, seemingly unconcerned by the twins' stares, and calmly placed her belongings on the small round table beside the door. She was alone.

After a moment of heavy silence, Vergil finally grasped the significance of her entrance. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice already taut, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Trish, however, ignored him and continued rummaging around in her bags.

"Trish?" Dante inquired skeptically, leaning forward, his curiosity evident in his expression. "Did something happen?"

She looked up, first at Dante and then at Vergil. A sly smile played on her face as she placed a hand on her hip, exuding her well-known confidence. "If you're looking for Kali," Trish finally explained, her voice carrying a hint of mischief, "I took her to Lady and the others."

"You did what?!" Vergil barked indignantly, the unexpected news taking him by surprise. His grip on Yamato's hilt tightened as he moved toward Trish, his voice demanding answers. "Why did you do that?"

But the response he received was Trish standing her ground, her eyes locked onto his with unwavering resolve. An aura of electricity crackled around her fingertips, a silent warning of her annoyance. Her voice remained as calm as ever as she cautioned, "Be careful how you talk to me, half-demon."

"Stop it, both of you," Dante intervened from his place behind the desk, his voice carrying a note of authority as he raised his hands to separate the two fiery personalities in his office. "Let's not turn my agency into a battlefield – again. I need this place in one piece until the next paycheck."

Trish flicked her blond hair behind her shoulder, her gaze still locked on Vergil, oozing confidence. "She wanted to see Nero, and who am I to deny a mother such a request?" Her voice dripped with arrogance, fully aware that this news would stoke Vergil's anger.

Vergil's jaw clenched, but he maintained his silence, his demeanor radiating restrained frustration. He gripped Yamato even tighter, his thumb already on the blade's guard, ready to draw it.

"Ah, come on, Verge," Dante chimed in, trying to calm his brother down. "What's the worst that could happen? Nero can take care of himself."

With a deep breath, Vergil finally spoke. His voice was low and controlled, but his whole posture was tense. "This is not about the boy. As I mentioned before, that woman is one of Seer's henchmen. She possesses knowledge that I need, and if she disappears, I'll hold you responsible for the consequences."

Trish interjected confidently, "Lady is keeping an eye on your guest."

"That human is-" Vergil began, but Trish cut him off with a firm gesture, the electricity around her fingertips crackling with annoyance. "Stronger and smarter than many demons I've encountered," she corrected, her eyes meeting Vergil's with a challenging look. Vergil made no further comment, but he couldn't hide his aversion.

"Well, now that that's settled," Dante rose from his chair, stifling a yawn. "Trish, I hope you don't mind watching the store for a while." He began to grin. "Vergil and I are joining a book club."

Dante's playful announcement left Trish with an arched eyebrow and a bemused expression on her face. "A book club?" she repeated, clearly skeptical. Vergil just rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.

.

Maybe half an hour later, the unequal twins were standing in front of the weathered and yellowed sign of a pawnshop, its once-golden letters now fading into the wooden facade.

"You can't be serious," Vergil grumbled and had to suppress the urge to just keep walking. But Dante had already opened the door, the tiny bell above it jingling cheerfully, and gave his brother no choice but to follow him.

Inside, they were greeted by a musty odor that clung to the air like a heavy curtain. The room smelled of cold smoke and years of dust. The narrow space in which the men now found themselves was packed to the ceiling with all kinds of bizarre items. The shelves held a motley assortment of junk: ancient electrical equipment, its wires entangled like forgotten serpents; fur coats, their pelts dull and faded; tarnished jewelry and even a glass jar filled with a grotesque collection of teeth, like a ghoulish smile frozen in time.

Dante, seemingly unfazed by the rather bizarre assortment of items in the pawnshop, began to stroll through the cluttered space. His eyes scanned the shelves with curiosity, taking in the oddities that surrounded him. Vergil followed, though with visible annoyance, clearly not amused by his current predicament.

"Where do you think you're taking me, Dante?" Vergil grumbled, his eyes shifting suspiciously over the peculiar merchandise. "This is not a library; this is a dumpster."

"Well, I never mentioned a library," joked the hunter, dodging the angry stares of his sibling and making a beeline for the counter. "Relax, Vergil. I've already told you that I have my resources." With those words, he slammed his hand on the reception bell.

The sudden ring echoed through the dusty shop, making the rather grumpy-looking owner, Enzo, appear on the other side of the counter. Clad in a flashy suit and with a smelly cigar in hand, Enzo looked oddly out of place in the old, cluttered store.

"Enzo!" cheered Dante with a happy grin.

"Dante," copied the grumpy Italian with much less enthusiasm and took a deep drag on his cigar before almost choking on it as he spotted Dante's twin. "Hell no, there are more of you?"

Vergil only scrunched his nose as some smoke drifted his way and waved it away before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Don't mind him. He's not a people person," Dante said, slapping the man on the back in a friendly, if slightly too hearty, greeting. "We're here for business, Enzo. And I know you're the man to talk to when it comes to the unusual stuff."

Recovering from his initial shock, the one-armed owner leaned on the counter, his cigar still in hand. He blew out a cloud of smoke and gave a lopsided grin. "Unusual stuff, you say? I might know a thing or two. What are you looking for?"

Being the pragmatic one he was, Vergil got straight to the point. "We're in search of any scripts that relate to the underworld."

Enzo raised an eyebrow, taking another drag of his cigar. "Forbidden knowledge, huh? That's the pricey kind of request. You got anything to offer in return?"

Dante, with a sly smile, reached into his coat pocket and produced a small pouch filled with red orbs. He jingled it for emphasis. "We've got a currency that's not of this world, old friend. What do you say?"

The former broker's eyes lit up at the sight, and he held out his hand to take the pouch, a sly grin crossing his face. However, as he glanced inside, his grin faded. "What is this? No money?" He stuffed it into his suit pocket, shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're broke again?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Dante just gave a sheepish smile. "You know how it goes, Enzo. The demon hunting business can be unpredictable."

With Enzo leading the way, the twins followed him through a hidden door at the back of the pawnshop, entering a dimly lit room. This room was even more packed than the previous one. But this time, there were no old teeth or moth-eaten fur coats. The room was filled with various demonic artifacts in all forms and shapes. The air almost wavered with the amount of demonic energy that filled the room, a tangible reminder of the dark history behind each item.

Among the clutter, Dante spotted a few familiar pieces. Devil Arms he had sold to Enzo in the past, each with its own malevolent aura. There was a deep purple Scythe, its dormant form resembling that of a guitar, leaning against an antique mirror with a tarnished frame. A grey Briefcase, wrapped with chains and secured with a thick lock, hid in the shadows. Its surface bore a luminous pattern, catching Dante's attention. The Devil Arm within seemed to grow restless as Dante's gaze fell upon it, prompting him to quickly avert his eyes.

That one never liked him and was way too complicated to use.

Instead, he gave his stunned brother a nudge with his elbow. "See? Resources." The only answer he received was an annoyed groan.

Enzo gestured toward a corner with shelves lined with books and scrolls. "There you go," he offered, his voice holding a note of encouragement. "Knock yourself out."

Cautiously, the siblings approached the shelves, their eyes drawn to the impressive collection of ancient tomes. The faint, eerie glow of the demonic artifacts cast eerie shadows on the dim walls of the room, and a subtle whiff of sulfur lingered in the air, the typical smell of demonic magic.

Vergil was deeply engrossed in the tomes, methodically scanning the spines of the ancient scriptures. His brow furrowed as he examined each title, searching for any reference that might lead to a solution. The dim light from the demonic artifacts danced across his features, accentuating his unwavering focus.

Dante, on the other hand, sighed loudly, his enthusiasm waning upon seeing all those dusty books. He put both hands on his hips, eying his brother with an impatient grin.

"Hey, Verge," Dante began, "don't you think now would be a good time to tell me what we're looking for? I mean, we're surrounded by all this ancient wisdom and stuff."

Vergil didn't look up from his perusal of the tomes. "Isn't it obvious? We're looking for a way to strengthen the barrier."

Dante raised an eyebrow, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "So, you're saying you want a way to become king of the underworld, right?"

Vergil's wry smile remained at the corners of his lips as he spoke. "That would indeed be a nice side effect, dear brother," he replied, his hands gesturing with a subtle grace. "For thousands of years, countless demons have aspired to rule the Underworld. Some succeeded, but most failed," he continued, retrieving a book and flipping through its pages with precision.

"However, they left behind knowledge," Vergil emphasized, using the old book to underscore his point. "They discovered rituals, artifacts, and even phenomena like the Qliphoth. They paved the way for others." With a fluid, graceful motion, he returned the book to its place, his movements a stark contrast to the gravity of the topic. Dante couldn't help but feel that his brother was treading on dangerous ground. "And that woman told me the tale of one such artifact, a throne that bestows its owner with incredible power—enough power to restore the barrier."

Dante's discomfort grew as he listened to Vergil's words that echoed their shared past. Memories of a power-hungry Vergil summoning the Temen-ni-gru flooded his mind, and he couldn't help but be wary of the path his brother seemed willing to tread once again.

"Do you know how that sounds?" Dante grumbled, but Vergil returned to the shelves, resuming his search.

Dante decided to assist Vergil, setting aside his concerns and knowing it was a way to keep an eye on his brother. He reached for an exceptionally thick book, but as he opened it, a dense wall of complex text greeted him, making him regret his decision. "Yeah, no. Not my thing. I can already feel my brain melting," he grumbled, then swapped the book for a much thinner one.

Dante managed to last about ten minutes before he couldn't contain his frustration any longer.

Vergil, sensing Dante's growing impatience, glanced over, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Dante closed the book with a bored expression and finally gave in. "Alright, Verge, I think you've got the books covered."

With a sly grin, Dante made his way over to Enzo, leaving Vergil to his research, and joined his old acquaintance at a pair of well-worn padded chairs with a table between them adorned with an assortment of alcohol.

"So… this is your twin?" Enzo asked carefully, opening a flask of whiskey and pouring them both a drink. "The same one who tried to kill you and destroyed half the city with that old tower?"

Dante couldn't resist a playful jest and grinned, "The very same. How much money would I get for him?" he quipped. However, Enzo just shook his head, offering a wry smile. "Forget it. I don't deal in living beings. This is a pawn shop, not a zoo."

While Vergil was engrossed in his readings, Dante and his old broker talked about the increase in demon activity. Many of Enzo's customers with the password were now demanding trinkets and spells for protection against visitors from the Underworld.

Dante just snorted. "As if something like that helps."

Enzo chuckled, shaking his head. "People get desperate when the demons come knocking, and as long as my customers believe in it and pay for it, I'm happy to oblige.

He took another sip of whisky and leaned back in his chair. "That welp of yours is starting to make a name for himself," he said casually. "Heard that Nero kid can count the military among his customers. Kind of impressive for his age."

Dante couldn't help but feel pride swelling in his chest. He knew that the boy had it in him. With a big grin, he crossed his hands behind his head. "Well, he learned from the best."

Vergil burst into the conversation, smashing a hefty tome on the table, almost knocking over Dante's drink. The sudden, forceful impact made the bottles clink and clatter in protest. "Enough of this," he demanded, pointing to the open book. His voice, as cold and demanding as ever, pierced through the dimly lit room. "I found what I was looking for."

The hunter leaned forward, squinting at the text, attempting to decipher its enigmatic symbols and characters. However, the ancient script proved to be an impenetrable fortress for his limited knowledge of languages.

"What scribbles are these?" Dante muttered to himself, his voice tinged with exasperation. "I can't understand a single word."

Vergil responded with his usual arrogant tone, his posture exuding an air of superiority. "Most of this is written in an ancient language that originates in the Underworld. So, I'm not surprised that you aren't able to decipher this."

Dante couldn't help but pull a face in response to Vergil's condescending remark, with his irritation masked by a lighthearted grin. He leaned back into his chair, eyeing his sibling with a challenging look. "Can you read it?"

For a moment, Vergil hesitated, a rare sign of vulnerability in his typically composed demeanor. The younger brother could swear that his ears took on a hint of pink, which he found both amusing and slightly creepy. "No," Vergil muttered, avoiding Dante's gaze. The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, the room was quiet.

Until Dante burst out laughing, the room echoed with his amusement. His brother's sour expression only fueled his mirth. "Looks like you're not as smart as you think."

Vergil crossed his arms in a defensive posture, tapping his biceps impatiently as he waited for his sibling to regain his composure. "Are you done?" he hissed, annoyance clearly etched on his face. Dante managed a nod, making an effort to suppress his snickering.

Vergil returned his focus to the book, fully aware that Dante was anxiously watching. As he examined the text, a subtle grin tugged at one corner of Dante's mouth, eager to uncover any hint of hidden power. "While I can't decipher most of it," Vergil began, his voice growing more animated, "I do recognize a few words and names." His eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What's intriguing is that a significant portion of these texts appears to have been authored by Machiavelli himself."

At this revelation, Enzo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. "That Machiavelli? The armorer of hell?" His voice was filled with awe and fascination that matched his widened eyes.

Vergil's shoulders twitched at that question, and he looked at Enzo as if he had just realized this man's presence. But he decided to ignore him and turned a few pages, revealing intricate scribbles and an abstract drawing of a throne. Enzo pointed at the picture, his gaze locked on the details, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "What is this?"

In response, Vergil shot the man a warning glare, making it clear that Enzo was prying too far into matters that humans should not meddle with. With deliberate swiftness, he immediately slammed the tome shut, securing its forbidden contents. Then, in one fluid motion, he grabbed the ancient book, tucked it under his arm, and drew his katana with practiced precision. The room hummed with tension as the energy of the otherworldly portal crackled into existence barely a second later in the middle of Enzo's pawn shop.

"Dante, we are leaving."

The sudden urgency in Vergil's voice left Dante taken aback, his amusement replaced with annoyance. But he shouldn't be surprised. Vergil's patience and good mood had lasted longer than Dante had thought him capable of.

Enzo couldn't hide his growing unease. His face paled, and his eyes darted between the book and Vergil, torn between fear and greed.

"Wait a minute," Enzo interjected, his voice trembling. "If you're taking one of my books, you'll need to pay extra."

Vergil's gaze flicked from the book to Enzo, his voice cold and commanding. "Dante, compensate the human."

The younger sibling sighed, reached into his coat, and produced another pouch filled with red orbs, which he handed over to the waiting hand of the owner.

"The next drink goes on your tab, Enzo," he grumbled, and with that parting remark, he gave his old friend one last pat on the shoulder before following his twin into the portal.

.

Trish sat at Dante's desk, idly picking at her nails as she listened to the radio. It was an old, beaten-up device she'd stumbled upon in a forgotten corner of Dante's cramped and woefully ignored kitchen. With a few well-placed thumps and technical wizardry, she'd managed to coax it back to life. Yet, as the reports of demon attacks crackled through the airwaves, a growing sense of dread gnawed at her. It was time for them to act, and the urgency hung heavy in the room.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, sending shivers down her spine, an eerie prelude to their arrival. It was a sensation she had come to associate with Sparda's sons, heralding their appearance.

The portal opened in the middle of the office, and Dante, as usual, commented on their return with his signature lighthearted banter the moment they stepped out of it. "What's got you in such a hurry, Verge? Not the best way to treat someone who's got valuable info." His tone was playful, but Vergil's response held none of his brother's humor. "I have what I need; why should I care?"

Dante persisted, emphasizing the importance of allies. "Resources, buddy. I've told you a thousand times."

Vergil's response was as stoic as ever. "Not once have I asked for an explanation, yet you keep talking." He moved to the desk and deposited the ancient tome onto it, seemingly unperturbed by Trish's raised eyebrows. "And I dislike your acquaintance. He was too nosy."

Dante threw up his hands, relenting. "You don't like anyone."

Side by side, they both examined the intricate drawing within the ancient tome. In an unexpected turn of events, Vergil concurred with his brother. "That's the first time you're right, dear brother." He pivoted the book to showcase the complex image and the texts surrounding it. "Trish, translate this," he instructed, prompting Trish to cross her arms.

She glanced over at Dante, who, rather than seeking to undermine his brother's command, offered her a look of sincere apology. "Sorry, Trish. Please just do it before I strangle him," he urged, his expression caught between concern and amusement.

Trish couldn't help but release a loud, exasperated sigh as she fixed Vergil with a resentful glare. "You'd better start being more friendly to me if you want my help," she grumbled, reaching for the book to inspect the arcane scriptures. Frustration gnawed at her as she delved into the unfamiliar text.

"I'll consider it," was Vergil's monotone answer.

It didn't take long before she leaned back, a hint of frustration on her face as she let out another sigh. "This is written in a language I'm not overly familiar with. It's going to take me some time to translate it."

"How long?" Vergil's impatience seeped through his rapid inquiry. The mounting tension was inescapable, but it wasn't solely the urgency of the situation that troubled him. The unsettling reality that he couldn't manage this task alone weighed on him. He loathed the dependence on others, especially on individuals he had no relation with, and no inclination to forge one.

Trish took a moment to consider before answering, "I'm not certain... Maybe a few days?"

Vergil's impatience was apparent as he clicked his tongue in displeasure. He had little tolerance for waiting, and the thought of it clearly irked him. "Too long. I'll find someone to assist you."

Dante and Trish were intrigued by this sudden plan, and Dante couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in curiosity. "Help? Whom do you have in mind?" he inquired, his brows furrowing.

A sly smirk graced Vergil's lips as he provided his explanation, his tone laced with mockery. "Perhaps you remember the woman you 'lost'?" he said cryptically. "She's acquainted with Machiavelli."

Trish's response was one of surprise and curiosity, her voice carrying a note of astonishment. "What? Kali knows him? How?" She wanted to understand this unexpected connection, but Vergil paid no heed to her questions and headed for the door, already instructing Dante to follow.

Dante shook his head, aware of Vergil's growing assertiveness. He followed his brother, fully aware of the dwindling time. The hunter could sense it in the air, a growing urgency. And he knew that Vergil felt it, too.

"Lady's gonna kill me for that," Dante mused, half to himself.

.

Lady wasn't easily unsettled, but the sight of the sky outside her window troubled her deeply. Even before the Mallet disaster, the sky had darkened due to the increasing demon attacks. However, it had taken on an even more disquieting hue now. A shimmering purple taint had crept across it, and the air carried an ominous scent.

She sighed and closed the window she had been leaning out of. When she turned around, the sight of disarray in her small apartment didn't do much to lift her mood. She had been in the middle of packing to move into her new place, but all the chaos had pushed her plans far down her priority list.

Lady's gaze immediately fixed on her uninvited guest, standing calmly in her apartment. The woman listened patiently to Nico's excited monologue, wearing a small, knowing smile.

When Trish had arrived at her door with the dark-haired woman in tow, Lady didn't recognize her at first. Gone were the admonishing grin and the tattered clothes. She was no longer drenched in demon blood, and her hair was wavy and reached just below her chin.

She had abandoned her white uniform for black leather, clearly influenced by Trish, although Kali's attire was notably less revealing. She sported tight, high-waisted leather pants and a fitted turtleneck top. She had already removed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly over a pile of moving boxes, revealing her muscular arms.

Despite her outward appearance of calm and control, Lady couldn't help but feel a hint of unease as she remembered what Dante's twin had said about Kali. She didn't know how much of it was true, but it triggered a nagging desire in her to keep a close eye on the stranger.

While Nico and Nero spent their downtime in Lady's home, the mechanic was eager to inspect some of Lady's arsenal. To set up a makeshift workbench, she had Nero carry a folding table from their parked van up to the fifth floor.

The table was now occupied by a sleek saber, and the room buzzed with Nico's barely contained excitement. Her eyes remained fixed on Kali's meticulous work, sparkling with curiosity as she observed the older woman's skilled hands. Nico's own fingers twitched with eagerness she could hardly contain.

"You need to tell me how your weapon works!" The words tumbled out of her in a rush. "It has almost the same engine as Nero's, but there's no tank for the fuel, and the grip is very different. And I've never seen such an alloy before." Nico spoke so fast that Kali had to suppress an amused snicker.

"Calm down, idiot!" Nero chided his partner. "You're practically drooling all over the place."

Nico couldn't help but scoff, her eyes rolling in good-natured exasperation. "Oh, come on, kitty! Don't be such a buzzkill," she said with a nod of approval toward the polished blade. "Just look at how beautiful she is!"

Kali raised one of her hands in a calming gesture. "It's okay, really." She reached for her sword, Calliope, and lifted it from the table. "Even though she's based on a Durandal, Calliope has no tank because she doesn't need any fuel," she explained with a grin. "I'm her fuel. She feeds on my demonic energy."

To demonstrate how it worked, she directed a sliver of energy into her palm and gave the handle a quick turn, causing the saber to roar to life, flames flickering over the blade.

"Amazing," Nico was in complete awe.

Nero, on the other hand, appeared more skeptical. "So it's a freaking Devil Arm."

With a chuckle, Kali let the flames die out and sheathed the saber back at her hip. "You're a smart one."

Nico snorted at that comment. "Nah, most of the time, he's as dense as a rock," she said, earning herself a middle finger from her partner, to which she responded with a playful shove.

As the two dove into their usual back-and-forth bickering, Kali couldn't help but smile, observing their banter. Seeing Nero up close was a rollercoaster of emotions – relief and unease. His striking resemblance to Vergil, from the white hair and pale complexion to the sharp contours of his face, was impossible to ignore. She had first noticed it when they crossed paths on Mallet Island, although most of her memories from that battle remained fuzzy at best.

Taking a deep breath, she fought the urge to let her emotions overwhelm her. Her son was right there, within arm's reach, but she knew she had to hold back. To wait for the right moment. Nero didn't know who she was, and Kali sensed that, despite the veneer of friendliness, the people in this room remained cautious of her.

She felt Lady watching her from afar, and she could also see it in Nero's movements. He always made sure to stand between her and his partner, still wearing his weapons. To them, she was just a stranger from the demon world.

And they were right.

"A Durandal, huh?" Nero interrupted her swirling thoughts: "Means you were part of the Order." He eyed her with mistrust, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Kali stiffened immediately, regret gnawing at her for letting that piece of information slip. She took a deep breath, attempting to relax her tense shoulders. In the meantime, Nero exchanged a look with his mechanic, and with a roll of her eyes, Nico stuffed a cigarette between her lips and retreated.

"Yeah," she finally answered, her tone laced with a touch of sadness. "I was a knight, just like you."

Nero raised an eyebrow, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "How do you know about that?"

"Vergil told me," the moment these words left her lips, she wanted to slap herself.

Nero's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Bullshit! Why would he tell you something like that?" He stepped back, his stance defensive as he eyed the woman warily.

A mirthless laugh came over Kali, and she shook her head at her own incompetence. "Shit, I'm such an idiot." So there was no turning back now.

"Listen," she began, closing the distance between them carefully. Even though he was a few inches taller than her, she held herself with a determined presence.

"He told me about you because I wanted to know because I needed to know," she admitted, fighting to hold her voice steady.

She clenched her hands into fists and swallowed the lump that was stuck in her throat, her eyes revealing a pain she had carried for years. "The moment I knew you were okay, that you were alive... I…" Her voice broke, and she couldn't continue.

Nero's eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. He stepped back once more, his mind racing to connect the dots. Suddenly, Vergil's words from over a year ago resurfaced in his memory.

She was a Knight, too.

The room felt like a vacuum, where time itself held its breath. Kali's gaze locked onto Nero's, her eyes reflecting a complex blend of emotions—fear, remorse, longing. At that moment, a lifetime of missed opportunities and unspoken words hung between them.

Nero's shoulders slumped, his disbelief slowly giving way to a profound sense of confusion and vulnerability. He took a hesitant step closer to Kali, his voice barely more than a whisper, "You're tellin' me you're my mother?"

Kali's eyes welled up with tears, and she quickly blinked them away as she nodded, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions that had surged to the surface. "Yeah," she finally admitted, her voice quivering. "I'm your mother, Nero."

"Fuck." Nero ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he tried to process the revelation. "Damn... I don't even know what to say."

As Kali moved closer, Nero hesitated momentarily, his guard still up, but the wall around him seemed to slowly crumble.

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that… I am sorry." she gave him a sad, reassuring smile.

Nero, still grappling with the shock of this revelation, found himself unable to hold onto his anger. He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping further. "This... This is a lot to take in."

Kali nodded, her expression sympathetic. "I understand. I didn't expect you to welcome me with open arms. But I want you to know that I've always thought about you, wondered how you were... And I'm here now."

Nero looked down, his gaze shifting from his mother to the floor. He was lost in thought, trying to process the sudden upheaval of his life. A tumult of emotions swirled within him — anger, confusion, but also a hint of curiosity.

"Are the two of you quite finished with this melodrama?" A cold voice, as emotionless as ice, sliced through the heavy atmosphere.

In an instant, Kali's hand shot out, displaying an uncanny swiftness, as she seized Nero's revolver from his belt with surprising precision. She swiftly pivoted around, aiming the gun's barrel directly between Vergil's unyielding eyes. The transformation of her demeanor was swift and striking; the vulnerability and gentleness that had marked her moments before had vanished, replaced by an aura of anger and hostility.

"Piss off," she hissed, her demonic energy crackling like a storm, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Vergil, in his characteristically stoic manner, remained unruffled by her reaction. He regarded her with an air of detached curiosity, maintaining his composure. "Do you even know how to use a gun?"

Kali clenched her teeth, her finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger, a simmering anger radiating from her. "Let's find out," she retorted, the room's tension escalating to the brink of a standoff. Without hesitation, she aimed the gun at Vergil's chest and pulled the trigger before Nero had a chance to intervene.

However, all that followed was a loud click. Kali's frustration was evident, and she let out a disappointed tongue click. "You got lucky," she admitted, her voice tinged with annoyance.

Vergil remained unruffled. "Wouldn't it have been wiser to aim for my head?"

Kali's smirk returned, a glimmer of her usual attitude surfacing, mingling with her anger. "True, but your face is the only good thing about you." Her words carried both bitterness and humor, and the tension in the room lessened as she relaxed her grip on the revolver. "Asshole."

"Enough!" Nero shouted, snatching the gun from Kali's hand.

With the gun now out of the equation, Nero positioned himself squarely between Kali and Vergil, his voice tinged with annoyance. "I don't have patience for this crap right now." He then directed his puzzled gaze at the older man, furrowing his brows. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Vergil turned to his son, his tone icy and measured. "I'm here to collect the woman." Nero looked at him with a bewildered expression, his face reflecting disbelief. "I upheld my end of the deal by assisting her return to the human world. Now it's time for her to fulfill her part."

Still bewildered, Nero remained rooted in his spot, making no effort to move aside. However, Vergil, with the sheathed Yamato's assistance, unceremoniously pushed him out of the way to get a clear view of Kali. "Time is running out. You will accompany me without any irrational behavior. Do you understand?"

Kali's fists clenched in anger, her temper flaring. "To hell with you."

While those two engaged in their heated standoff, Dante found himself on the other side of the room, attempting to soothe Lady's fiery temper.

"Come on, don't be mad," he repeated for the third time. "Do you think I would have brought him here if I didn't think it was necessary?" He extended a placating hand, but Lady's scowl remained as unyielding as a fortress, and she emphasized her displeasure with another punch to Dante's shoulder. "I don't care. You owe me money for this."

Dante rubbed his shoulder, wincing as Lady's punch hit home. "Alright, alright, I'll pay you. But you can't put a price on family, am I right?" he said with his signature grin, though it only seemed to further baffle Lady.

A deafening rumble swept through the room, casting a hush over everyone. The ground beneath the group quivered as if the very earth were in turmoil. The air outside was filled with the shrill cries and wails of chaos.

"Oh shit!" cried Nico loudly as she looked out the window. She instinctively flung herself onto the floor, shielding her head with her arms.

Barely a second later, the window exploded with a thunderous boom, sending shards of glass cascading through the room, covering the floor and the cowering mechanic in glittery debris. A menacing hiss filled the room. One by one, serpent-like demons with scales as black as midnight squeezed themselves through the shattered window, their eyes gleaming with malice. The shards crunched under their heavy bodies as they slithered through the room, their glowing eyes fixed on their newfound prey.

Nero stepped forward immediately, his Red Queen already in a tight grip. "This is a private party, you fucks!" he roared, his resolve unwavering as he faced the encroaching serpentine horde, ready to defend against this demonic intrusion.

One of the serpents, its body coiled and menacing, rose to its full height, its dark, glistening scales nearly brushing the ceiling. Its hiss sent shivers through the room, and its jaws unhinged, revealing rows of dagger-like fangs dripping with vile, viscous venom.

Before it could unleash its horrific assault on the Devil Hunter, a sudden eruption of violence unfolded. The demon body froze-mid movement as the tip of a broadsword, gleaming like a harbinger of chaos, tore from the serpent's grotesque body. An ear-splitting scream erupted from the creature as the massive blade burst through its ribcage, splashing thick, crimson blood everywhere.

Nero took a swift, evasive step back, avoiding the deluge of foul blood that rained down upon him.

As the serpent collapsed, a grinning Dante appeared behind it.

"Nothing like a few uninvited guests," he declared, letting his massive broadsword rest on his shoulder.

As the first serpent fell, more windows in the room suddenly burst open with a cacophony of shattered glass, unleashing a torrent of serpentine demons, which writhed and slithered into the room. They came in a nightmarish flood, their glowing eyes fixated on their newfound prey, seeking to encircle and cage the group. The malevolent creatures hissed and growled in a symphony of menace, their sharp fangs gleaming with malice.

In response to this sudden onslaught, the room echoed with the urgent clatter of weapons being drawn.

Dante's grin grew wider. "Time for some fun."

Thanks for reading! :)

I totally understand, you might find Vergil and wolves a tad gimmicky, but here's the deal: I was a bit tipsy when this idea popped into my head, and it just stuck with me.
To be honest, I'm too tired right now to add more to this note. I'd rather save my remaining energy to wrap up the draft of the second part.

Until next time, all you wonderful folks, and have an amazing week! :)