Heart's Burial

by Convulsion

Power. That's all that matters to him, and all that matters here, surrounded by the strongest of Earth and creatures from Hell. He should feel at home here, shouldn't he? Well, he doesn't.

10. INFERNO (Eva), Part 1

As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.

-William Blake

---

INFERNO.

(Eva)

—Part 1.

"Is that right?"

A twisted chuckle. The vicious elation deep within.

"WILL THE CARNAGE START WITH ME, VERGIL?! SHOW ME!"

A racing heartbeat. An ecstatic mind. A bright green line dashing towards him. The power that surged and flowed and itched with the undying desire to re-engage. It resonated with his own aura, the azure dancing flames he shrouded himself with.

No hesitation. No mercy. No weakness.

The enemy would not survive his wrath.

Closer.

His mind was steeled with resentment. The thirst for vengeance. The longing to reign supreme among these mortals who dared to challenge his strength and take what was his. They would all yield. They would all fall. They would all rue the day they ignited this pitch-black motivation.

The mighty son of Sparda dashed towards the pitiful peasant clad in sacrilegious armor.

The hateful viridian glow in his nightmarish gaze painted thin threads of light around his temples as he lunged.

CLOSER.

"Rejoice, ELITE!"

The distortion in his voice. The demonic pitch that infected his vocal cords. A sound impossible to human beings. What set him apart from them! What separated him from their frailty! The mark of his supreme heritage!

NONE OF THEM COMPARED TO HIM!

CLOSER.

His rising knee. The falling slash.

The right shinai submitted to the touch of his patella all too eagerly; it splintered into a thousand pieces right before the exposed, shocked eye of Uzu.

A split-second of hopeless breakage under his potency… The prelude to the murderous impact that smashed the Elite mask in and launched its pitiful user as a cannonball to the divine cannon of his shockwave-inducing strike, crashing and rolling through the resilient steel platform that sustained their encounter.

Vergil landed in a crouch, one palm to the floor. "For you shall boast the supreme honor of dying to the progeny of the Legendary Dark Knight!"

His frame vanished from position.

Uzu did not waste time. He felt the impending danger. The sheer hostility in Vergil's thundering aura and voice. The murderous intent that made his sweat glands overwork, his skin break into goosebumps, and his lungs to demand acceleration in his breath.

A rushed roll back to his feet and backward hop done in the nick of time saved his head from becoming a crimson soup – with chunks of the helmet, meat, skull, and brain scattered over – under the lethal stomp courtesy of Vergil's teleported falling heel.

The bridge was not so lucky.

(A length of three kilometers. A weight capacity of over five thousand Empusa Queens, whose armor made them approximately two times heavier than a Panzer VIII Maus from World War Two. It was built with a metal mined straight from the bedrock of the underworld.)

…It didn't matter.

The first half of the bridge collapsed. The specifications– The capacities– The material– None of that mattered at all! The metallic groans echoed within the tunnel under the crushing force of a heel it could not withstand, the platform crumbling under an existence shrouded in endless shadows and indomitable aura, an incomparable schism. The pieces– The chunks– The uneven divisions that might as well have been shards of fragile, fragile glass, all falling in a disaster of squashed deadweight, unable to meet the purpose given to them.

The structural collapse did not hinder the onslaught.

One.

A mid-air teleportation. Vergil warped right beside the falling Uzu; the shockwave-inducing shinai slash intercepted his airborne roundhouse kick inches from the helmet. It was a split-second, but Uzu's keen sight did not miss the crack showing in the bamboo, as if it were a small mouth opening to eagerly say hello.

(The adrenaline coursing through his veins boiled. The thrill of knowing he could not rely on last-second parries against this demon made his heart writhe with otherworldly ecstasy.)

The gauntlet without shinai went in for a gut punch. It collided with a forearm oozing blue… And Vergil vanished before a new sword emerged from the gauntlet's dorsal cavity, fully aware that the force with which it was released would cause it to pierce through his limb and abdominal flesh, regardless of the nonexistent edge.

The following impact stirred the vocal cords within Uzu into arranging a choked scream. His brain was shaken with the overwhelming and colossal signals coming from the nape, the epicenter of his spinal agony, the crushing force of Vergil's downward angled elbow slam that made the Elite vaguely wonder how the hell he managed to stay conscious enough to react.

…and respond.

Two.

His thrill kept stirring when the spinning shinai slash hit nothing except air. Where would the mighty son of Sparda appear this time? Where?! The split-seconds were killing him! He needed to let all this excitement out!

Vergil took form right in front of Uzu, a little lower, delivering an uppercut–

The remaining helmet horn sparked.

The remaining helmet horn birthed. Vergil watched as his world went white.

The newborn point-blank blast swallowed him with aflame voracity.

IRRELEVANT.

Vergil brought his arms together in an x. The violet embrace of a demonic shield shrouded his frame, the hellish heat able to grasp him no more. Vergil spread his arms wide. The shield obeyed the silent but authoritative command and much like a balloon too long under the sunlight, BURST.

Uzu watched as his precious enemy unleashed a shockwave that wiped out the intensifying fireball and bridge debris still falling near them, watched as the green was consumed by the violet that disrespectfully shoved him backward, watched as the revealed, oh-so-dazzling Vergil amazingly kicked the air, a bloodthirsty lunge towards him, carrying an azure-stained backflip kick with so much speed behind it that avoidance was IMPOSSIBLE.

Wha–

THREE.

The falling dorsum full of potent, inhuman extensors was a little too much for the helmet to handle. It was something the sewage river below related to.

The two of them were forced open, after all.

The sheer speed the events transpired with made it difficult to tell which happened first; if the helmet had already split open like an expertly cracked egg before impact with the sewage bottom occurred, or if the impact with the sewage bottom made a gargantuan hole in the water body first, exposing the bottom concrete floor, a sight the likes of which would have been fitting for a passage in the Bible, a miracle impossible for mere mortals.

The author of that miracle warped right into the epicenter of his masterpiece. The mountain of water was still rising around them when he showed up, arms folded, besides his one-note villain destined to die in but a few pages, the villain who had just bounced off the hard sewage bottom, the separated halves of his helmet dropping in slow motion, the green of his exposed hair hanging from his face.

FOUR.

The force employed to grab Uzu by the face was particularly monstrous, veins of pure divine rage squirming in Vergil's pale hand, begging their possessor to crush everything in his hellish path, a plea he would merrily accept!

Not once. Not twice! Vergil slammed Uzu into the concrete a total of three devastating times that spread the hole in the sewage wider and wider and wider, made blood sail from Uzu's head more and more, made a crater in the floor, and made it bigger and bigger and bigger! He would have continued to do so until the head became nothing but mush, meat, skull, and brain swimming in a pool of blood!

What a shame that Uzu thrust the shinai at his stomach before he could slam him a fourth time.

What a shame that the impact made Vergil bend, and let go.

What a shame it pushed him backward a considerable distance, around five meters before he pressed his palm to the floor and halted himself.

What a shame!

Uzu landed on his feet.

Vergil rose to his full height.

Their eyes met for a split second. Malevolence. Delight. A slit pupil. A circular yet constricted one. The sensations incarnate.

Vergil vanished, shrouded in blue.

Uzu did so, too, shrouded in green.

The rising water around was shaken and steadily vaporized. The walls rumbled. The ceiling growled with the threat of collapse. They collided. The lines of blue and green moved throughout the tunnel fast enough for chunks of it to begin liquefaction through heat.

These chunks grew in size the more the lines clashed. The more the lines connected and shook the air. The more the lines cut across each other. Two worlds far away but meant to find each other all the same. An immortal temptation. A plane of darkness. Their tunnel-vision. The urge to destroy. The desire for aggression.

Uzu's feral thrill! Vergil's indomitable will!

A barrage of thrusts and slashes. A barrage of punches and kicks. An exchange that borrowed violence from both worlds and merged it into unadulterated mayhem, shattering the surroundings at an impossible pace.

The lines returned to the epicenter of the open ocean, branding trails of melting through nightmarish speed.

The lines rushed to each other.

Uzu THRUST his right arm, sword burning green at the lead.

Vergil STRUCK with impeccable precision, straightforward right punch blazing blue.

His fist went through the shinai. The sword had no chance to withstand the force or the searing aura that backed his knuckles up. It disintegrated, down to the last atom.

Thus…

Vergil's punch ended up colliding with Uzu's right gauntlet.

The fist-to-fist impact boomed with unprecedented brutality. Their powers entwined, violent blue and green contact that brought countless tendrils of energy to life, clawing at the water and the walls and the floor and the EVERYTHING, burning them as the intensity made the flames of their clashing energy build up and BUILD UP and BUILD UP—

F

I

V

E.

The explosion ate through concrete, bricks, and broken pipes.

A glorious sphere of vicious photons and a spreading range of incineration. The bridge chunks above had no chance to land before the fireball reached them and ate them whole. A considerable amount of water became nothing but mist above. The shockwave spread it outward for the entire tunnel to know of an impossible, short-lived but ferocious tale.

The remaining water thundered back down.

The detonation site was not flooded, however.

The immense crater that was created was a thirsty maw. The sewage would not fill it. It would only slide down from the outskirts to the bottom, the dark bottom that didn't seem to exist, only offering deepening darkness to those above.

That was the result of five seconds of combat between a son of Sparda and a human that donned Elite armor. A shattered bridge. A crater the size of a neighborhood in the tunnel.

The combatants were nowhere to be seen.

A certain hellhound that witnessed the disaster first-hand growled.

And then he barked a laugh, his canines showing, his frame shaking atop the highest pipe, shrouded in the shadows of a ravaged, departed tunnel, eyes glowing with ambition.

"And to think I had intended to take you on…"

---

Falling. Falling. Falling.

He recalled the Behemoth from earlier, and couldn't help but think that he'd been here before.

He flipped, feet sliding down the scorched walls close to him. The water that flowed under his heel was so warm.

---

"That kind of power… I wonder…"

---

Gaining speed to a horrid area. The scents that clung to his nose… The chitters and the shrill roars… The sounds of panicked hellbeasts crawling around in terror.

As if aware he was coming.

How fitting.

---

"How powerful must have Sparda been…?"

---

The stalactites were the first thing he lay eyes upon. The sheer size and fleshy texture separated them from the earthly type. They were full of holes, from which harmless Empusa demons crawled in and out, messy, disorganized.

The walls full of tubes that resembled blood vessels were the second thing he lay eyes upon. The scent of copper clouded his senses. The food that these creatures had stored inside their nightmarish nest, all the tubes concentrated in the center of the cavernous lair, where a colossal pulsing bulb that glowed scarlet resided, its lower half hidden.

So much blood.

So much blood coming from the little holes in the vessels.

So much blood staining the rocky floor.

The second trespasser touched down. The bare feet made a cute little splash.

Vergil knew where to look immediately. Vergil knew where the first trespasser was. The pitiful groans of a defeated Empusa queen nearby were all too familiar.

The sight that he found was as gruesome as it was expected.

The bleeding holes all over signified the uselessness of an exoskeleton ill-equipped to deal with a threat that existed at the peak of Kiryuin's domain. The claws lay torn off not too far from her. The same could be said for the hind paws. The monster was limbless and fallen.

As for her opisthosoma… Well, it was as if a tailor-made hammer had smashed it over and over and over again, leaving nothing but a withered, wrinkled sack with broken armor chunks and blood pouring from it uncontrollably, like a fountain that fed the broad puddle Vergil stood on.

The structures that resembled blood clots responsible for forming her "crown" flickered with a faint crimson glow that grew duller and duller with each flicker.

Uzu was seated atop this crown.

It was the first time Vergil got a good look at his face.

At his exhilarated grin.

At those gray eyes mildly shielded by dark green bangs, but that gleamed with so much excitement to be really hidden, even with all the blood that covered his frame.

That was his enemy.

"Hmph."

The son of Sparda took a stance. A taunting smirk designed to counter the grin showed on his face. "What is the meaning of this? Don't tell me you have grown frustrated you haven't managed to land a meaningful blow. The demise of a subpar monarch will not erase your incapacity to harm me."

"You think I'm frustrated, Vergil?" Uzu asked, arm resting on his knee. "I'm having the time of my life, dumbass. This is what I live for!"

He showed him his right gauntlet. The gauntlet that collided with his knuckles. The web of cracks that adorned it, the dying sparks–

Uzu slammed the gauntlet to the head of the Empusa.

They burst.

The gauntlet. It burst into a thousand pieces that dropped onto the crown gloriously. The mark of strength behind a son of Sparda's onslaught. A frailty bestowed by a decisive strike that left the gauntlet useless to do more than one more.

The head. It burst like a balloon full of ketchup. The cries of the unfortunate queen died at around the same moment she did, her brain and skull dropping to the floor, making delicious splashes that were soon accompanied by the ones made by the chunks of the gauntlet and the boots of Uzu, for the queen crumbled into dust rather quickly.

"Keep giving me the good stuff, VERGIL!" Uzu exclaimed, his now bare hand closing into a demanding fist, his voice echoing along with the chitters and chirps and screams of the frightened Empusas all around.

The good stuff.

So Vergil was giving the good stuff.

But what about the Elite?

(That pressure from earlier. The dark energy he sensed from the surface. What had drawn him to the sewers in the first place, eager to test his newfound powers. The vague questions of 'why did he cease using it' and 'what made him use it' lingered somewhere in his mind as rather trivial inquiries. What mattered was that he wasn't using it now, against him.)

"You say that…" Vergil began. He folded his arms, as stern as a disappointed teacher. "...but your performance is not good enough to warrant such a demand."

A scowl twisted Uzu's face. "Say what?"

Vergil was direct:

"I am aware this is not the full extent of your abilities, this isn't your good stuff. I am aware your power is not as disappointing as–" He gestured to Uzu in disdain. "–this. This irritating suppression suggests you either failed to realize what is at stake in this battle… Or that you do not deem me worthy of your full power, which renders the former true too."

His eyes narrowed. "My conclusion is that you are a hopeless imbecile."

Vergil held an open hand out, palm facing upwards. "But, by all means, feel free to prove me wrong. Is there a valid reason you are not using your full power–" His hand snapped shut, sparks of blue falling from it. "–or shall I crush you, human as you are, for insulting me this way?"

Uzu stared at him.

Uzu closed his eyes.

Uzu smiled again.

"A reason, huh?"

A resounding snap echoed through the walls. It did not come from the bamboo sword that connected with Vergil's right forearm, the forearm he used to guard from the swing. The blood splashed on his cheek and his temple. His eyes widened.

(Barely managed to react.)

The collision of the shinai with his forearm was so potent that both his ulna and radius bones were pushed out of his flesh like trees breaking through earth and sprouting for the world to see them, at a less than ninety degrees angle.

Vergil attempted a jab with his free hand.

Uzu tilted his head away from the strike as he stepped forward.

Vergil's stomach exploded in breaking pain when the fierce gut punch connected with his abdomen, stealing the air from his lungs and lifting him off the ground. The subsequent crescent sword slash slammed against the side of his face hard enough to split his cheek open and flip him through the air over a thousand times before he crashed into a rocky wall, piercing it and the blood tube that ran down it.

The rocks burst into a considerable cloud made of dust.

Uzu lowered his remaining sword. His gaze was on the dirt fog.

"It's not that I don't know the stakes… Or that you aren't worthy of my full power." The Elite rolled his bare wrist a little. "It's personal stuff, you see. I wanna get as much fun as I can outta my fights, after all, and you? You're so fun to fight! Your power! Your resolve! YOU, VERGIL, SON OF SPARDA!"

The dust cloud was wiped out by a brief shockwave of blue power. The chunks of steel leaped everywhere. Vergil was revealed. His mandibles were tight, teeth gritted behind his lips.

His right forearm bones furrowed back into his flesh and reconnected. The hideous wound they paved their way through was shut as soon as they did. His split cheek did the same. Not even the blood that rained on him from the broken tube remained; it was vaporized by the prior release of energy.

(As expected. The energy of the Elite had intensified. Now he packed quite the punch.)

"So you are a hopeless imbecile. Just not for the reasons I speculated."

"Call me anything you want. That's my reason." The Elite pointed a green-stained finger at him. "Now, since we're talkin' about reasons, tell me, what's your reason?"

"...What?" Vergil blinked. The question was odd, to say the least. Was he asking him if he was holding back? He wasn't holding back.

"You're so damn intriguing! I want to know your reason for fighting!"

Ah.

What a stupid question.

"I aim to slaughter you, your comrades, and your leader for the deeds committed to me. I already told you this," Vergil stated, cold-blooded as a lizard.

"No, no. You don't get it. I mean, before you came here and we pissed you off." Uzu lowered his finger and spread his arms wide. "I know you fought a lot! You were trying to grow stronger, and I wanna know why. I wanna know where your resolve comes from, hear it from you!"

Vergil stared at him.

His gaze turned unreadable. A shadow was cast under it.

He had never been asked such a thing.

(But then, the chances of someone, anyone asking him that, to know the context of his existence, his experiences and make an inquiry regarding them…)

The "why" was not a simple thing. It was not a single answer. The "why" to his battles, to his pursuit of strength, encompassed a plethora of feelings that were best kept buried deep within, meant for no one but himself to know. They were his. They belonged to him.

Survival. A weakling would have never thrived in the life he led. The strength of mayhem would keep him afloat in the ocean.

Responsibility. A responsibility to a power he was meant to attain. The demon of death that was his family's crest.

Vengeance. A vengeance that concerned nobody on this island. An inherited nightmare stained by fate.

Power.

The power to… To…

To never… Never again…

(The amulet. Her gift.)

"Heeey! Vergil!"

That irritating voice snapped the son of Sparda out of his darkening musings.

Uzu had his head tilted to the side, a fist on his hip. "What's the matter? You're quiet."

"The matter?"

His fists snapped shut. His teeth were bared with bloodthirsty savagery. His pupils constricted to the point they became practically invisible, surrounded by all the viridian in his irises that glowed oh-so-bright.

"The matter is that you're not on your knees. The matter is that you're making questions about things that do not concern you in the slightest. The matter is that you are not begging for your miserable life."

He advanced.

But this time…

Uzu advanced, too.

A fist aflame with blue.

A fist aflame with green.

CONNECT!

The punches brushed past each other.

The devil was in the details. The strike performed by Vergil landed with a ferocity that snapped Uzu's face to the side…

…which was mirrored by Vergil himself, his cheek on the receiving end of human, yet immensely painful knuckles that made his mandible pop.

The fierce cloaks of demonic power flowing from their bodies canceled each other out on impact, and then they skid backward. Thrilling pushback dragged their feet through the puddle. Away from each other. It would've been difficult to say who lunged back at each other first.

Especially when they bypassed Mach 7 without much effort.

Battle!

BATTLE!

BATTLE!

---

"Their location?"

"The middle of Level Three."

"Status of the Hell Gate?"

"It's unaffected so far."

---

The metatarsal of the son of Sparda.

The heel of the Elite.

Their kicks collided. They bounced off each other.

Vergil remained relentless. He teleported above Uzu and dropped knee-first onto his head. He wanted to crush him. He wouldn't rest until he crushed him! HIM AND EVERYONE RESPONSIBLE!

The irritating peasant hopped back, had the gall to hop back, to avoid destruction! The demonic knees bashed the wet crimson floor, splashing, a hill of blood rising before thundering down and then rising again when he kicked himself off the floor in a fiendish leap towards his loathsome target.

---

"Sanageyama?"

"His power output has risen. It's far from reaching activation like before, however."

"And Vergil?"

"He has stabilized, thankfully, with minor decreases that happen during bursts of power or when he sustains damage."

---

The forward somersault ended with a heel drop that sent ripples through the air and the blood from the soil without even touching it.

It also did not touch Uzu… Even when the speed behind the move was the highest Vergil had reached so far.

The Elite whirled with unexpected agility, almost as if premeditated, brushed past the heel with only a few strands of hair grazed by the heel…

…and SLAMMED his shinai into the unguarded abdomen of Vergil, who had committed completely to his own failed attack.

The flight that occurred resembled that of a baseball home run, except baseballs didn't gasp for lost air, didn't bleed from the mouth, didn't feel the stomach BURN BURN BURN CAN'T BREATHE BREATHE BREATHE.

---

"Shall we…?"

"No. Too early. If we were to intervene at this point…"

---

Descending misery.

His precious frame crashed through a fleshy stalactite and pierced right through gravitated to the bloodstained soil, accompanied by a few Empusas that squirmed and squirmed in the air, an instinctive panic coursing through them and their shrill roars.

His precious frame bounced once. His back only slid afterward.

He came to a stop.

His gaze was vacant.

And then his eyes burst open, fully aware of that bamboo-coated GUILLOTINE about to drop on HIS neck.

Vergil vanished.

The shinai slammed into the soil. The broad splash adorned with stained rocks arose and then thundered down, cracks spreading to the nearby wall.

Vergil re-appeared not too far.

And then had to hold his forearm beside his face because Uzu basically WARPED right there with him, charging with a horizontal slash whose resulting shockwave landed on a fleeing Empusa behind Vergil and bisected it.

(He was not only stronger. He was FASTER, MUCH FASTER!)

Uzu pulled back immediately, chuckling giddily.

The blur, the dome of afterimages all around him threw Vergil off.

Instinct.

A powerful leap to the right was taken.

The spot Vergil once stood on was impaled by a fired shinai.

Vergil dashed and dashed and teleported and TELEPORTED.

The bamboo blades seemed to come from EVERYWHERE, from EVERY ANGLE, from–

Vergil growled, "You worm!"

The son of Sparda's violet forcefield shrouded him, shielding him from all those pesky threats made of bamboo. He spread his arms wide, and the forcefield exploded, shattering them all–

Uzu popped up behind him.

Uzu THRUST his remaining gauntlet upwards.

(TOO CLOSE!)

A spine was broken.

And then, the flesh was pierced by the shinai that burst from the gauntlet's deadly cavity.

The almighty son of Sparda was hopelessly IMPALED!

(IMPALED IMPALED IMPALED!)

The visceral pain that flared alive. The same crazed signals sent by his brain! This nostalgic madness!

His gaze snapped down. Let him see. LET HIM SEE!

The sight of that sword! That sword that had speared him from behind and burst forth from his chest, STAINED IN HIS PRECIOUS BLOOD! JUST LIKE THE FIRST TIME!

(Memories aflame. An onslaught against the eye of his desolate mind. All the constellations that portrayed his first time. The first time. When his house burned in the distance. When the night sky was moonless. When skulls and blades showed up to hunt him. When Dante and–)

(And–)

(When his little tender innocent frame was VIOLATED.)

His right hand enclosed the shinai and ripped it right off, out of his gaping chest that closed at the same time his spine reconstructed, stole it away from the gauntlet cavity, and his ears vaguely registered the rupture sparks behind, too focused on the sound of his wrathful heartbeat as he whirled around.

Uzu giddily hopped away from the murderous diagonal slash Vergil performed.

"Up for a little spar, VERGIL?!" The Elite bounced off the floor a little. His gauntlet brought another shinai forth, right in the nick of time, right at the same moment Vergil teleported in front of him, stomped forward, and SWUNG.

Uzu braced himself and, too, SWUNG.

The bamboo blades met with ferocity. The soil shook. The blood rippled uncontrollably. The entire cave trembled, and that was only the beginning: CRACK CRACK CRACK THEY WENT! THE FOUNDATIONS! THE STALACTITES! THE CORE OF THE LAIR! THE PAIR OF SHINAI SWORDS THAT MET OVER AND OVER AGAIN!

---

"Then… Sanageyama…"

"Can he be reached?"

"Negative. He is too low for that. Too much demonic energy coming from too many sources, particularly the Hell Gate and Vergil."

"Very well. For now…"

---

"MEN! DO!"

A rising slash! A horizontal one! A parry this way! And then another! AND ANOTHER! Avoid! Spin! Dash! GUESS! The swords were rapidly breaking against each other! More slashes! More swings! More thrusts! More stabs! MORE! MORE! MORE!

"MEN! DO! KOTE!" Uzu roared!

The Empusas unlucky enough to be crawling through the bloodstained soil at that moment were torn to visceral useless murdered pieces by the frenetic vortex made up of a million strikes starring Vergil, the son of Sparda, and Uzu, the Elite, the movements precise and aimed purely to destroy, the strikes monstrous, difficult to tell who did this and who did what, difficult to tell everything that– That–

---

"…he will have to handle him alone."

---

CLASH!

The collision of bamboo against bamboo was sustained by two hands on each side, shaking, burning, and struggling to push the enemy back. The gritting of teeth. The pounding inside their chests. The swords they held were on the verge of breakage.

Vergil put all his strength, all his dedication, all his hatred into the struggle, and won.

His sword forced that of Uzu down, tip hitting the soil with an earth-shaking impact.

And Vergil stepped on it, stepped to Uzu, arm thrown in a stab that had the wind gathering around it, meant to crush his SKULL!

Uzu let go of his own sword trapped under Vergil's heel and tilted his head to the side, CAUGHT the latter's arm in his, and BASHED A KNEE AGAINST IT!

Vergil watched as part of his radius and ulna sprouted from his flesh, tearing through meat and blood that poured rapidly to greet him, pushed out by the powerful attack that came from under, an otherworldly fracture.

The subsequent heel that slammed into his gut sent Vergil skidding backward, too many nerves destroyed in his broken arm to continue holding a sword that did not belong to him. He halted himself by pressing a palm to the soil.

When he looked up…

…a downward-angled thrust was zooming in on his fiendish gaze.

Vergil avoided the relentless attack with a hop that flowed into a spinning kick–

The mighty son of Sparda let his eyes burst open when the contemptible peasant intercepted his shin with his free, bare hand, EASILY, with a TOOTHY GRIN on his face!

The Elite raised his shinai.

The Elite pulled Vergil into it.

The shinai grazed his chin as he tilted his head back in the nick of time.

Uzu tossed him aside to make up for it, the sheer force behind the fierce throw dislocating his leg joints from the knee to the hip. What affected him wasn't the stabbing, throbbing pain that exploded after the pops of bones inside; he was used to pain, and the injuries would be fixed automatically.

What affected Vergil was that he was starting to truly take damage.

What affected Vergil was that his moves had begun to be countered with unparalleled precision. What affected Vergil was that the part of this battle where he either dominated or was evenly matched with Uzu was falling behind.

The son of Sparda somersaulted and landed gracefully. His displaced leg foundations adjusted back to their original position. His shattered arm fixed just as easily, bones obediently burrowing back in and flesh sewn shut by an inhuman healing factor.

His backhand parried the shinai swing coming from behind, coming for his head.

The sword finally exploded into a thousand pieces before his blue-stained knuckles, the toll of their earlier "spar" far too great.

Vergil whirled, for a reverse roundhouse– A BLUR OF GREEN DASHED PAST HIS EYES MID-KICK–

And then he had a gauntlet slamming so hard against his skull that it felt as though it was about to cave in. It might have caved in, with brains and meninges and sinuses, and HURTS HURTS HURTS. He wasn't sure. Wouldn't ever be suuuuure! Suuuuure! SUUUUURE! The headache was sharp and splitting. The knockback snapped his head down. His vision went white for an instant. He staggered to the side, mind clearer, vision back– AGAIN THAT BLASTED HIGH-SPEED BLUR!

"DO!"

Vergil teleported. The newly-produced shinai missed his torso.

It didn't matter, because when he manifested again, the shinai had already been fired in the direction where he intended to appear, and pierced through his abdomen like a bullet, leaving a gaping, bleeding, visceral hole there, and on his liver.

What?

(The exact position where he would show up, Uzu just happened to fire the shinai over there. What was the meaning of this?)

Did he know…?

Vergil pondered this as his wound closed, as Uzu lunged towards him and performed a downward, overhead slash.

Vergil steeled himself.

His palms deflected the shinai falling on him while he twisted his hips. His foot was about to connect with Uzu's ribs, the kick thrown with such speed it should have been impossible to react to at such close quarters, breaking the sound barrier in an instant.

The free, bare hand of the Elite still closed on his shin.

However…

A little, kind, split-second detail remained on Vergil's mind as Uzu slammed him to the soil, splashing into the blood. A little, intriguing detail remained on Vergil's mind as Uzu pressed his boot to his stomach and swung his shinai at his face. "MEN!"

(Uzu had moved his hand before Vergil even raised his foot.)

Did you know?

Vergil moved his elbow, and the guarding collision between joint and sword made the latter crack. Uzu hopped off him before the son of Sparda performed a precise chop that would have broken his shin…

…and then Vergil did a handstand hop away from the falling thrust courtesy of the Elite, who had leaped to continue his relentless onslaught, a war roar expelled by his human lungs, "MEEEEN!"

A frightened hill of blood rose all around him.

Vergil teleported above and behind him. He held his arm high for what would have been a devastating elbow fall…

…but Uzu had already spun around when Vergil warped up there.

Did you know?

"DO!"

A swing for the abdomen! Vergil snarled and switched the elbow fall for an emerging, parrying knee; the force of the collision made Uzu take a grounding step back, and Vergil land faster, harder, in a crouch, the ripple around them growing in scope, the bloody hill around them rising, SHOCKWAVE SHOCKWAVE SHOCKWAVE!

Uzu dashed towards Vergil. The Elite became a blur of black and white that whirled around him. The shape of a wheel. His opponent ran circles around him, a mini-tornado that caused the blood to rise even higher, and the wind to break through the landscape.

The bright blue demonic power shrouded his mighty foot as he rotated one leg with enough potency for the kick to spin thrice and collide with Uzu. The Elite parried the kick with his shinai; the force behind it still pushed him away. The Elite skid sideways and Vergil gave chase. Or intended to give chase. His eyes burst open.

He leaped. The sweeping kick failed to trip him from behind. No matter, Uzu dashed in for a thousand thrusts in one. Vergil avoided them all, careful, precise, and refrained from attacking. Not yet. Not yet.

A thousand stabs ended. He rolled away from the downward slash that followed. Vergil kept his gaze focused now more than ever. He could see. He could see the eyes of Uzu following him even before the downward swing was even completed. He could see them fixed on him even before the shinai smashed into the rocky wet soil.

How did you know, miserable excrement?

He warped above. Just to test the waters.

The fired shinai – again, to the exact direction where he would show up – did not pierce through his flesh this time, because Vergil was more than prepared. A calculated kick – gentle enough not to shatter but forceful enough to redirect – carried his spin, the side of the shinai clinging to his leg.

The spinning kick was completed. The sword abandoned his limb and shot straight at Uzu. The latter did not intend to avoid his sword, catching it in the gauntlet that had fired it initially was far more convenient, letting it enter the cavity– Vergil showed up crouched at Uzu's feet.

Uzu did not see him, too focused on the plummeting shinai.

Uzu did not see him when the sweeping kick tripped him, making him lose his footing.

Uzu did not see him until he whirled around mid-air to avoid having his own shinai skewer him, chest and thoracic cavity and heart and spine and everything. The shinai ended up embedded in the soil with an earth-shaking impact, and Uzu ended up landing not too far from Vergil, palm to the ground, breathing accelerated due to the extremely close brush he had with death.

The son of Sparda let a divine smirk settle on his face.

"Careful, Elite."

The blood around them thundered down.

The son of Sparda stood up, resting an arrogant hand on the shinai that almost assassinated its own master as if patting it, as if congratulating it. "Do not perish before unleashing your full might. The sheer disappointment would surely end me too."

Uzu chuckled and smiled. His eyes closed.

"Hah. Relax. I'm not planning on that."

Uzu opened his eyes. His smile vanished.

"I'm not even using more than twenty-five percent of my output here. Don't get so full of yourself, bastard."

Vergil folded his arms. "So, a quarter of your total strength."

The haunting aura of azure sparked alive and shrouded the half-demon. "I have to admit, the irony and extent of your foolishness is utterly peerless. I have never met anyone as stupid as you are."

"Hey, I like a good fight."

The Elite pointed an accusing finger at him. "And I can tell that you do, too."

Vergil blinked.

Vergil scowled dangerously, lips parting. "Oh?"

"That's right, Vergil."

Uzu leaned forward, a frenzied, broad grin on his face, fingers curled in exhilarated tension, hair hanging messily over his gray, darkened eyes. "I can see right through you, buddy! I can see through that cool act of yours! You love this as much as I do. The battle. The thrill. The adrenaline, our clashing! I can feel it in your fists. In your kicks. In the way your muscles flex over and over in anticipation for me! In the way your breath accelerates each time I get close! I can see it in those EYES!"

The son of Sparda was silent.

The son of Sparda considered.

(His vengeance was first and foremost. The only thing that topped it was his desire for power, but since both were interconnected, his priorities did not clash. He arrived at the sewers to eliminate one of the persons responsible for his loss of the Yamato. That being said…)

The intensity… The desire to collide… The need to test his might… To push himself to the limit… The drive to win… He wasn't unfamiliar with it, and to deny it right now…

Come on, grab your sword!

(Perhaps… If his mind hadn't been so flooded by resentment… He would have acknowledged the amusement, his heart skipping countless beats with each collision between the Elite and him, seeing the worth in a rival that stimulated his existence in such a precious, visceral way.)

It wasn't something he would concern himself with, however. His mind was set on something far greater than the bliss of exhilarating combat, and that, that one purpose took precedence over everything in his perspective.

The son of Sparda vanished.

The son of Sparda showed up behind Uzu, the two facing away from each other.

The son of Sparda spoke, "My eyes, hm?"

His pupils were constricted. His power burst out of his flesh, an inferno of blue demonic energy that infested the surroundings, vaporizing the blood nearby. "And what about your eyes, Elite? They must be extremely keen to see right through me so easily…"

The Elite let his brows go up.

The Elite threw his head back and laughed.

The Elite clapped his hands.

His pupils dilated. His power burst out of his armor, flames of green that merged with the blue and intensified the wildfire that spread and spread around their clashing existences. "So you noticed, eh…"

The blue consumed the green.

The Elite was pushed away, halfway from Vergil, who held his closed fists beside himself, at chest level, the intensity of his aura regaining that electric property from before, the impending, sparking storm that intended to wash everyone and everything standing in his path away.

"I don't know how that pesky ability of yours works…" he breathed, his sentence marked by a sharp, hot exhale of air, steam coming from his mouth, from the Hell inside his throat that distorted his voice as he turned on his heel and faced his enemy. "...but I will learn, and rest assured, I will outclass it; you shall get what is coming to you."

And what did the hopeless boor challenging the almighty offspring of the Legendary Dark Knight do in response to such murderous bloodcurdling words?

Well…

…he simply spread his feet, held his shinai forward, and ran his tongue over his own lips.

"Can't wait to see it."

The son of Sparda scoffed, and that would have marked the onset of a new onslaught, if not for what happened next; neither Vergil nor Uzu knew what it was, but they knew it was there, sensed it, breaking through the hair, moving rapidly, coming to the encounter–

Uzu did a rapid spin, swung his shinai once his fighting instincts warned that whatever was coming was coming at him–

The Empusa heart – thrown at a speed that would have probably torn it apart in seconds anyway – exploded immediately upon contact with the bamboo.

"What the–"

The blood burst out and spilled immediately, a mess of wet, warm crimson imitating that of the soil, fierce momentum carrying it forward, washing all over the gifted sight of the Elite, who had no option but to shut his eyes before the liquid vital to life stabbed– Too late. It had gotten in and was already stabbing. He bent a little, fingers pressed to his eyes, teeth gritted. "Shit! Shit! Should've dodged!"

"Indeed!"

The diabolical exclamation was followed by the thud of paws touching down on the wet soil, splashing; the voice came from behind Vergil, demonic, cruel, and immensely familiar.

His gaze snapped over his shoulder.

The sight widened his assessing stare.

It was not quite what Vergil recalled. From the slightest waver that showed in the posture of the hellbeast, the lowered position of his head to the tail that was gone. The in-betweens, too… So pitiful to witness; the somewhat caved-in snout, the off-looking neck, the crimson-stained hole going from the stomach to the back and still dropping some tidbits of innards, the nonexistent drop in temperature upon his arrival.

So much blood on him.

So much…

Weakness.

And yet…

"I thank you for your stupidity!"

…the viridian in his hateful stare burned no less bright than before.

The initial, mild shock eroded. It was with cold acknowledgment that Vergil received him.

"Cerberus."

The hellhound tore his gaze off the recovering, grumbling Uzu, setting it on Vergil instead. There were some cautious steps taken towards the half-demon, tame ripples in the bloody soil spreading from the paws.

"You look utterly pathetic."

(What was he doing here? Vergil had assumed that, following his release yesterday, the demon would have been eager to abandon the city that had enslaved him.)

Cerberus halted halfway from him. A faint growl echoed inside Vergil's mind right as the hellhound bared his teeth. "I did not request your input."

"Irrelevant." Vergil tilted his head back. "I speak when I please."

"Hmph." Cerberus grumbled, glancing at the crimson below. A glimpse of something unidentified in his stare was caught by Vergil's keen sight. The creature took a few more tentative steps towards the half-demon, offering the further lowering of his head.

Vergil faced him completely. His gaze darkened.

(Perhaps, if Cerberus had been a normal, playful pup and Vergil had been a normal, innocent child, he would have let the animal come close, and maybe offer some wary pats. As it stood…)

The withering stare froze the hellhound in place, around three meters away from him. A clear boundary had been established. No words were needed to convey what would happen should Vergil see the invisible line crossed.

"State your business."

"I…"

"Yeah. Please. Explain. I'm not sure what you want here either." Uzu finished wiping the blood off his face, eyes narrowed and a little bloodshot, absolutely irritated. "I already kicked your ass. Don't tell me you're coming back for more. I'm in the middle of–"

"Silence, imbecile."

A purplish forcefield rose around Vergil, who didn't even bother to look at his opponent, and Cerberus.

The forcefield PULSED.

The produced shockwave was all-encompassing, tearing through the walls and the soil and the ceiling at hellish speed, shaking the entire nest; Empusas shrieked, a tear spread through the bulb at the center, and Uzu startled, putting his sword forward to defend himself from the unforgiving pressure, but the pushback still launched him far, far across the nest, crashing against a hard wall and bouncing off it, barely managing to land on his feet.

Uzu clicked his tongue.

Then he grinned wildly.

Who knew?

Maybe the puppy had come here for a good reason…

"Fine. Fine. You wanna talk with the mutt, make me wait?" He eyed the purple barrier, that field of protection that Vergil had erected to keep him from interfering, to set his attention solely on the frozen hellhound.

Uzu sat down, in the blood, knee up, foot tucked, palms to the ground, and a laid-back smile on his face.

"...I can wait."

And so his wait began.

---

"Hm. What a convenient trick."

From inside the forcefield, Cerberus eyed the monstrous trail of destruction leading to the Elite, sparing a processing blink. "I do not recall you using that."

"Spare me the pointless recollections." Vergil had barely even tried against Cerberus, let alone the miserable human who controlled him. The amusement they provided him with was mild. "Don't waste time."

Cerberus did not take offense. He actually appreciated the no-nonsense attitude Vergil approached this situation with. "Very well."

Cerberus sat on his hind paws.

His ears fell.

"I wish for you to wield me."

Vergil narrowed his stare.

He eyed Cerberus a little longer.

The wounds all over his body.

The weakness.

The vengeful words aimed at the Elite before resounded, and Vergil understood. Cerberus did not need to explain himself.

(...from what the son of Sparda understood of the process, what he had been studying before coming to this city, the transformation into a weapon did not carry over the damage that the prior vessel sustained.)

"Your conditions?"

Cerberus blinked.

Cerberus barked a little, resigned laugh.

"I am in no position to establish conditions. There is nothing I can do to enforce your compliance with them, not as I am now, and not at my strongest." His fiendish gaze dulled, weakness finally catching up to him, the realization that on his own he failed and there was little else he could do but offer himself to someone stronger, with more chances to accomplish his unfulfilled goals than him, finish the enemy they shared.

Vergil almost pitied the creature.

"So you surrender yourself to me."

Cerberus let his gaze rise, teeth bared in a playful grin.

"Would you have it another way?"

"Not quite." The son of Sparda boasted a frigidity of a scope easily matching that of Cerberus' freezing aura at full capacity. He held a hand forward and closed it into a fist, grasping nothing but desiring everything. "This is quite a convenient development. I shall always welcome more power."

The hellhound allowed his ears to rise eagerly.

His tongue came out to hang from his mouth.

The exhilaration the creature displayed caught Vergil off-guard, but not enough to break his impassivity. The same cold assessment he had been wielding with Cerberus was present when the latter released a colorless burst of demonic power, surging from within his devastated flesh, a hellish mockery of a snowfall that encroached on the son of Sparda.

A beat.

"Are you not ashamed to offer your strength to the flesh and blood of the devil responsible for sealing your world away?" Vergil let his fist fall to the side, the tame energy caressing his pale skin, familiarizing itself with him, sliding over him with an initial lethargy that destabilized following a few licks, the greedy snow that accelerated and surrounded him, clinging to his subdued and yet thundering aura, his powerful existence…

"I hold no resentment towards your father."

…all while the existence of Cerberus displayed more and more cracks, hideous signs of shattering over his already broken body, a crumbling crystal, the fragmentation of a glacier that did not belong to this world.

"Ah?" Vergil let wintry brows rise a little.

"I did not know him. His rebellion took place long before I came into existence. The underworld has always been my home." Vergil noted the absolute indifference that marked his tone. A vicious growl arrived with his next words, and Vergil was unsure if it was because the intensifying process of breakage was harming the hellbeast or because Cerberus simply despised mankind that much: "I do not harbor much interest in this hideous realm. The humans can keep it."

Vergil had nothing to say to that.

(It felt odd. It felt so odd to know that a demon did not despise his father after being hunted for almost a decade by demons, all because of who his father was.)

Cerberus spoke again, his voice solemn:

"I grant my soul to–"

The azure aura of his master-to-be stirred in momentary rejection.

Cerberus blinked in response.

He tilted his head.

The erasure of his corporeal form paused.

The divine edge of the Yamato flashed to life in Vergil's memories. A split-second of vulnerability marred his gaze and died to the murderous, vengeful gleam in his demonic eyes, in the way he gritted his teeth before letting his lips part in ultimate demand:

"If you are to become my weapon, you are to become a blade."

Cerberus stared at him.

Cerberus narrowed his eyes, assessing the request.

Cerberus nodded.

"As you wish."

The lines of rupture spread to his head.

Vergil witnessed the moment Cerberus exploded into a million shards, his corporeal form was discarded, the ultimate mark of his agonized submission to become nothing but a tool for someone else to use again, this time against those who had used him first, the common enemy.

From within the explosion of shards, it emerged; that dot of shy white light, suspended in the air, levitations of photons that exuded demonic energy all for the taking, reflecting on eyes that drowned in quiet, resentful avarice, the eyes of the one who held a hand out to reach, to hold it in the palm, that light.

The shyness was lost.

The speck morphed into an unparalleled gleam.

The zone inside the forcefield was showered in the sheer, blinding radiance.

Vergil did not allow it to overwhelm him.

Vergil did not shut his eyes.

Vergil simply grasped.

---

Uzu waited.

Uzu opened his eyes.

Uzu sensed the overwhelming shift.

That cursed radiance coming from deep within the forcefield Vergil had erected… It spread across a considerable radius, overtaking the Empusa nest, now empty of the creatures that had once inhabited it, fleeing insects that obeyed the instinct to survive.

A savage grin settled on his face.

It appeared his wait was over.

And those lines… Those ruptures that ruthlessly infested the barrier… Oh! This would be good! This would be amazing! This would be nuts! He could feel it! The goosebumps in his skin, the twitching of his fingers, the coiling and uncoiling of his muscles, his heart racing so fast, his shaking!

Battle!

BATTLE!

BATTLE!

"Come on, Vergil!"

The Elite leaped to stand on his two feet again, to stand halfway from that breaking barrier that unleashed so many shockwaves into the nest, their bloodied battling ground, that cursed divinity washing over his skin over and over and over again!

"Don't keep me waiting!"

A few more shockwaves…

A few more cracks, like an egg in the face of impending birth…

And then, the barrier BURST.

Uzu had no time to stare at the falling shards of energy all around or at the scattered light dying where it had once spread so alive, not when Vergil dashed at him so fast, so murderous, so powerful, with that FUCKING THING IN HIS HA–

MOVE!

MOVE!

MOVE!

Uzu didn't hesitate.

The rapid tilt of his upper body backward saved him from getting beheaded, the cold brush of death caressing his armored chest, the relentless reclaimer of his birthright performing an impeccable slash, the movement performed with practiced perfection.

"Holy—"

Vergil advanced.

And this time Uzu did not find the balls to advance too.

"—SHIT!"

The Elite took a mad dash to the side.

The colorless blade failed to bisect him from head to groin.

It had to settle for the nest. That downward slash that landed on the bloodied soil and whose shockwave sliced the wall from bottom to top, whose edge unleashed a glacial infestation beginning with the point of strike and spreading ice all around the son of Sparda, ruthless, demonic ice.

The Elite reckoned the affected area measured over thirty meters of radius when the freezing trails chased relentlessly after him, forcing him to leap back, even further from his opponent, which they couldn't reach.

(If he had tried to parry that with his shinai…)

A giddy laugh escaped Uzu, the sheer thrill of danger stirring his nerves. "Well, would you look at that…"

The son of Sparda stood at the very center of the frozen infestation, the frozen surface he stood on a little dented, a tame crater that marked his spot as the ultimate master of that land.

And he stood still, facing away from the Elite, eyeing the weapon in his right hand, quiet, arctic assessment lingering in that stare of his.

Uzu set his bare hand on his hip, his exhilarated grin gleaming with taunt. "And here I thought you loved the Yamato more than anything in your life. Already looking for replacements, Vergil?"

A vindictive scoff answered him, "Replacements..."

Vergil faced Uzu, met his gaze, and let him get a good, long look at the frigid edge, the weapon aiming to freeze his very soul; that thing encompassed his entire forearm, a crystalline carapace oozing snow that hovered dangerously, chains binding it to his arm, restraining power, clinging to the base of the weapon in the path of a spiral.

The carapace ended at the knuckles… From that point on, all that existed was a lengthy mass of ice shaped with the edge and curvature of a saber, two emerald-resembling "gems" gleaming with vengeful designs in the middle, glowing with the malevolence of consciousness all too eager to destroy.

A chill ran down Uzu's spine. His breath came and went out his nose in visible vapors. His lungs ached in response to the sudden drop in temperature that infested the oxygen. The air shook his mid-length hair. The wind summoned a fierce howl.

"You are quite the comedian, Elite."

Vergil held the sword up, purposeful.

"Scatter…"

The ice he had spread shattered, and exploded into countless shards that floated around him, surrounding their gracious ruler, whirling, dancing.

"...like dust."

With the command completed, every shard froze in place, aimed at Uzu.

The Elite barely had time to widen his eyes before the shards rushed to him, a barrage of spikes, like five hundred daggers seeking to stab him, to burrow into his flesh and spear all his fragile human organs, a similar move to the one used by Cerberus earlier, but much stronger, much faster, much more lethal, warranting the total attention of his eyes and his avoidance, if possible.

Uzu made to dash away– VERGIL WAS BEHIND HIM. "Greetings."

"You son of a–"

The son of Sparda thrust his freezing weapon forward…

…a million times, in what would have looked like a single stab for untrained eyes.

The Elite had no choice but to dance a million times, too, to obey the quiet, wrathful demand of the Crystalslayer, while the shards closed in from the rear, a wall of daggers that loomed ever-threatening while that sword kept him trapped between both, and the shards were coming closer, and the stabs were getting faster, and he sieged, and he only had split-seconds! CLOSER! FASTER! CLOSER! FASTER! SECOND! MILLISECONDS! MICROSECONDS! NANOSECONDS— DO SOMETHING!

The reaction was instinctive.

Uzu parried the freezing blade with his shinai. The bamboo sword shattered immediately, but the pushback enforced against Vergil allowed Uzu a ferocious gut punch done with his gauntlet that launched the former away.

Uzu whirled around and faced the storm of shards coming his way.

Uzu drew yet another shinai.

Uzu roared.

The Elite stepped into the storm, and became a maelstrom of swings and slashes and parries, adrenaline fueling his every move, his every deflection, because avoidance was impossible now, because the attack was too all-encompassing and demanding a response just as all-encompassing!

MOVE!

The deflected shards flew everywhere.

MOVE!

The shards shattered if he struck them hard enough.

MOVE!

The Elite emerged from deep within the storm, having successfully fended off the shards that had been meant to annihilate him a thousand times over, not a scratch from them on him, but his breath was so ragged, his feet were so tense, like the muscles coiled in his arms.

"An impressive kendo performance."

The voice of Vergil came from the side. Uzu let his gaze dart over there, seeing his enemy standing not too far from him.

The son of Sparda had his arms folded, analyzing his stance, his existence, and the way he analyzed all that he deemed worthy of his attention, even if it was begrudging in this case. "I sensed a fluctuation in your energy."

The Elite clicked his tongue, then chuckled, resigned, all while his shinai crumbled after all the parries, the deflections, the contact with utterly sharp, powerful shards that exceeded the capacities of that sword. "What can I say? You're pushing me."

"So your eyes are working at a higher level now."

Not a question.

Uzu tilted his head to the side. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Vergil considered, then unfolded his arms.

"My aim is the same. I shall outclass that ability of yours."

A beat.

"It's quite commendable, all things considered, but I've already noticed a few weaknesses. All I must do—"

The Elite produced a new shinai.

The son of Sparda warped from position.

"—IS EXPLOIT THEM!"

One.

From the walls. From the ceiling. From the floor.

Vergil leaped from point to point, teleported from point to point, switching positions at an overwhelming pace and carefully crafting a web of afterimages Uzu needed to keep up if he wanted to properly counter any of the attacks that were sure to come his way.

And that wasn't even the end of the latter's worries.

The air was getting colder with every movement Vergil performed, his very presence evoking rapidly intensified winter, the blood below getting colder and colder, the air becoming sharper and sharper for the lungs of the Elite.

He braced himself. He kept his eyes sharp.

Two.

A falling slash. A step to the side was enough to avoid it, and Uzu let Vergil fall right into his bare fist, a fierce uppercut. The problem was that the saber grazed the blood below, forcing the Elite to leap away from the glacial icicle generated by the contact, rising from the spot he once stood on…

…and Uzu ended up leaping right into Vergil, who teleported right in front and forced him to raise his shinai, defending himself from the freezing horizontal slash aimed at his abdomen. A rising cleave followed, and this time Uzu couldn't use his shinai to parry, for he knew it wouldn't resist another slash, not when it cracked so badly after the first, not when there were traces of ice rapidly infesting it.

Uzu had to take a backward hop. Vergil took the chance to dash in, and do a million thrusts– Uzu caught his arm, not willing to do that dance again, right before he thrust his shinai to his sternum and fired it, the point-blank sword turned projectile spearing through Vergil completely, from ribcage to lungs.

…and it didn't matter. The son of Sparda soldiered through the choking pain of getting his lung pierced and performed a spinning slash Uzu flowed under–

—NOT MEANT FOR— HIM— HIM— GLACIER—

THREE.

The saber sliced at nothing but the air.

Uzu barely managed to spin away from the colossal, spiky glacier that burst from the bloodied soil, summoned, a structure grown in a diagonal direction that reached to the ceiling and crushed many fleshy stalactites above, causing blood to rain from them, only to freeze before making it to the soil, remaining hopelessly connected to the glacier.

A new shinai was generated. A freezing saber was swung.

The shining shockwave resulting from the clashing swords had only one person staggering backward: Uzu.

And then Vergil warped from position.

FOUR.

Another dome of afterimages. Another carefully crafted web. Another mess of sights flickered in and out of sight for Uzu while slashes and stabs rained on him from every possible direction and he parried and dodged and lost his swords and produced new ones and leaped away from the glaciers that kept bursting from the soil and the shards that sought to spear his armor, his flesh, his footwork pushed to the limit while his lungs continued to overwork and inhale that utterly puncturing air, his eyes moving from direction to direction in an endless struggle to keep up with Vergil, who moved ruthlessly, cruelly, seeking any chance, any opening, any opportunity to WIPE HIM OUT.

His brain was starting to get overwhelmed— The shards were too many— The glaciers were getting too huge and too frequent— Vergil was moving all around the rapidly freezing landscape and there was so much going on— The air was so cold, it hurt to breathe— The blood below, the soil…

THE BLOOD WAS COMPLETELY FROZEN. HE WAS RUNNING OVER FROZEN BLOOD!

At that moment, it dawned on Uzu, what Vergil, that motherfucker, had been doing all along, and there was nothing he could do except roar in sheer, mindless delight:

"YOU AWESOME BASTARD!"

F

I

V—

"NOWHERE TO GO! SCATTER!"

V—

An earthquake! The shattering of their battleground! A total from which vicious shards arose!

V—

All those shards rising in response to the command! To the rising of his sword, standing atop one of the many glaciers he had gloriously erected!

V—

All of them homing in on him! The peasant with too good an eyesight, but oh-so-blinded by his own stupidity to realize the futility of challenging a SON OF SPARDA!

V—

And so, the inescapable storm of shards consumed Uzu Sanageyama.

E.

…

…

…

…

…

Vergil descended from atop the glacier he had teleported to.

The end of his leap was marked with a tranquil, dignified landing on the decadent soil, now reduced to a vast heap of rocks over dirt, the blood from the wall vessels desperately trying to fill the area again, entwining with the sewage that cascaded from the hole on the ceiling.

He assessed the results of his attack, that glacier made of pointy projectiles, resembling a porcupine curling up, a dome of shards that had gathered together in an attempt to destroy his opponent.

Vergil concentrated.

Vergil closed his eyes.

Vergil spoke:

"Don't waste time, Elite. You still draw breath."

He opened his eyes.

His tone was utterly authoritative, "Come out."

And as the peasant his opponent was, obedience was given.

Vergil bore witness to the figure that burst from the top of the dome, first soaring in a monstrous leap and then plummeting to the fragile ground, boots coated in heavy bamboo sinking a little.

Vergil blinked as he assessed his opponent. "Hm. I should have figured you would be able to wield your weapons defensively…"

The smirk that settled on his face indicated such a matter was not so relevant. "...I assume your bamboo is not so reliable regarding that, however."

A layer of bamboo enveloped the frame of his enemy from head to toe, a cocoon that had erupted from the gauntlet, no doubt, concealing the armor and the person inside, oozing a tame aura of green.

It was full of holes, particularly on the arms and legs.

The shards embedded in the cocoon were responsible.

Vergil did not see it for long. Once the first crack showed, the cocoon was emboldened to shatter, crumbling in less than five seconds. The chunks hit the ground, heavy thuds accompanying every little collapse.

A trembling, stabbed, but breathing Elite was revealed.

"Ah… Ah… Ah…"

The low hanging of his head, the ragged cycle of agonized inhaling and exhaling, the shards that were sinking in his shoulders, their numbers higher in the arms, the blood sliding down the armor, his twitching bare hand wet with crimson, the legs that trembled with the same combination of visceral color brushing past embedded crystals, crimson, all going down, all going down, all going down.

A shaky breath. "It's been a while…"

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

His enemy had the gall to be smiling. "...since I've had it this rough…"

The son of Sparda took a stance.

The Elite stomped forward, gauntlet producing a new shinai, and leaped straight to him, his lungs and his vocal cords arranging the delighted, roused roar that called to the name of the one responsible for the supreme stimulation of that fighting spirit burning deep within his soul:

"...VEEEEERGIIIIIL!"

A downward swing of the shinai.

Vergil flowed away from it. He vanished out of the path belonging to the horizontal slash that followed. His frame manifested once more, and a few precise cuts of his saber turned the shinai already fired his way to confetti.

Uzu was blurring and out of sight as he rushed to him, his afterimages multiplied around Vergil, and it mattered little; the son of Sparda held his saber high, and the saber momentarily transformed into a massive flare made of monstrously cold demonic power, glowing white, exuding lethal waves of snow everywhere, crushing all the afterimages in an instant and causing the temperature in the nest to go from uncomfortable to unbearable, at least for three seconds.

The Snowstorm made the real Uzu pull back.

The eyes of Vergil were locked in on him.

With a swing he switched back to Crystalslayer; the light died and the carapace reconstructed the saber of ice. He slammed the cold edge of his sword into the soil.

A vicious drill-shaped spear of ice erupted from the soil. The Elite was glad his reflexes were as keen as they were and allowed him to leap away, or else he would have gotten his ribcage obliterated and a hole from chest to back.

The problem was he took his eyes off Vergil as he leaped away.

Vergil showed no mercy in the way he teleported right under Uzu and thrust his sword up.

The blade pierced through metal, flesh, and innards, entering through his gut and exiting out his back. The abrupt halt of momentum paired with the searing yet utterly freezing pain of having that cold blade going through him shook Uzu's senses without remedy, an agonized grunt escaping him.

Vulnerable.

And so Vergil did not hesitate. He grabbed the Elite by the hair and pulled his body DOWN from it, TWISTING AND TWISTING the blade until it was all the way in, until the insides were fully rearranged to fit his weapon impeccably, until gravity fiercely demanded blood trickled uncontrollably from the abdomen.

The Elite snarled in raw pain while his blood poured down, spilled, and stained the face of his cruel, vengeful enemy. The son of Sparda licked the red off his lips, the taste of vengeance searingly delicious for his tongue.

He shook Uzu off his sword.

He parried the incoming shinai – generated by a stabbed, fallen Uzu who rushed back to his feet and swung – with a sturdy rising knee, following up with a spinning slash that Uzu ducked under, shards shooting forward from the blade.

Uzu was about to lunge for a stab when Vergil closed his free hand and pulled it back.

Uzu did a backflip, successfully avoiding the shards that went in reverse, and returned to the saber, that saber carried by an advancing Vergil.

Uzu landed…

(…and there wasn't time to do anything except guard.)

Uzu put his gauntlet in front of his gut.

The devastating one-inch punch opened a perfect, straight rupture line on the remaining gauntlet and sent Uzu crashing into a wall. The bamboo sword shattered as soon as his wounded frame collided with the cavernous surface, the pieces hitting the soil sooner than his knees did. His gauntlet utterly failed to produce one more bamboo sword before the machine gave out its last dying sparks.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. He breathed.

Bleed. Bleed. Bleed. He bled.

Beat. Beat. Beat. His heart beat.

Laugh. Laugh. Laugh.

He laughed.

"You really are…" Uzu didn't even try to stand up. He was fully aware it would do him no good, that there was no point anymore. "...you really are something else, to beat my Tengantsu like that…"

He looked up, gaze longing for greatness.

The voice, that voice of his enemy:

"Tengantsu, hm? So it's nothing more than a prediction of movements based on particular motions, as I assumed."

His sublime opponent stepped towards him, a will of iron embedded in that march of his, sheer resolution gleaming deep within the infinite darkness found inside those eyes, an unforgettable foe. "But if it relies on sight alone, it's nothing a son of Sparda can't surpass."

That was how Uzu felt about him. That was how Uzu viewed him. Gloriously, as gloriously as he figured out his ability.

As for Vergil…

He halted his steps right in front of the exhausted, shattered Uzu, and looked him in the eye.

He held his chin high, and the gesture would have been so dignified, so regal, if not for the bottomless disdain and resentment that stained it, the quiet mockery of the one who believed himself to have triumph in his masterful, divine grasp.

"On your knees?"

He folded his arms.

"Am I to assume that, with your powers seen through, you have resigned to your fate?"

Uzu shook his head.

"Naaaaah. I'm sure you'd hate that…"

A smile was cracked and a thumb was pointed to the bleeding gap near his navel, a wound as much as a signal. "...considering you chose to strike me in the stomach rather than the heart, or any other place that would have killed me sooner."

"Correct."

Uzu didn't flinch when the saber was pointed at him.

A shallow cut spread through his cheek.

"So quit wasting my time and stand up." There was a stern edge in that demand that reminded the Elite of her, the one in charge of this island, and for a moment he found himself at a loss, perhaps even dazzled. "We are not done yet."

Uzu blinked.

Uzu shook the stupor off himself.

Uzu sighed, his usual demeanor switching for a more somber disposition.

"We aren't, are we?"

His gray gaze found the viridian glow in those fiendish eyes, those black thin slits that were far from human. His finger found the freezing edge of the saber, pushing it a little to the side, to Vergil's confusion.

The words that came out of the Elite's mouth drifted away from the wild delight of battle, if only for a fleeting moment before human and devil returned to mutual slaughter:

"We could really use a man like you, Vergil."

Vergil gritted his teeth behind closed lips.

This again?

"As it stands now… Honnoji Academy's unrivaled. No other devil-hunting agency or organization or whatever you wanna call it comes close to what we've been able to achieve with our armors, I'm pretty sure of it."

Uzu rested his head on the wall, hand on his worst wound, the one in the abdomen. The unusual calm in his gaze caught Vergil off guard, but he remained still, listening.

"From what I was told about you…"

The thoughtfulness that settled on his face was one laced with disappointment.

"…I think you'd have gained a lot more than you'd lose if you became part of us."

Vergil was still silent. Vergil was still glaring.

"Don't you hate demons, too?"

The words crashed around him. Just heavy enough to snap him out of silence.

"I was under the impression we were battling here, not evaluating my thought process."

"I just wanna know if letting you live is worth it."

"You speak as if you can decide my fate at all. I will live. You will not."

"Getting too ahead of yourself there. It's cute." Uzu shook his head, completely at irritating ease. "At any rate, you're not answering the question."

Vergil scoffed.

He held a tightly closed fist in front of himself. "My memories are mine. They belong to me. My past resides in my memories. You fools dared to intrude into it without so much as my knowledge."

"Whoa, talk about possessive—"

"Then your wretched leader attempted to manipulate me through the demise of my family." His voice became a growl as he lowered his hand.

"Okay, okay, let's—"

"No one manipulates me, no one, let alone a human."

Vergil tilted his head back. His expression changed. A smirk that was both exceedingly arrogant and cruel settled on his face, the canines in his maw sharper than those of any human.

"Do you feel content following the orders of someone who holds no respect towards the deaths of your comrades — humans such as you, wishing to have my power, support, and loyalty despite the havoc that I wreaked?"

There was a momentary silence that fell between them. The only sounds that existed were those of blood coming from the wall vessels, trying to fill the area, and the water falling from the crater above.

Uzu stared at Vergil.

The former didn't move, didn't speak, and showed no changes in his posture.

All that came from him after a while was the mildest twitch in his eye, in his finger, and then he clicked his tongue, preceding a laid-back, if not indifferent response: "You mean Kamiya? And Takeda? Ah. Those guys were disposable. We have Protos in spades, and I'll find someone who can use the Cerberus armor in no time."

He pointed a finger at Vergil.

"But you?" He chuckled. He shook his head and his finger. "Well, unless Sparda went to town on other women besides your dear mommy and there's a secret island where Legendary Dark babies are kept… I think you are all we're getting of your kind."

He spread his arms. "A son of Sparda with the power to match our Elite Armors, dammit! And packin' some sick samurai skills to boot…" He set his hands on the soil, head tilted to the side. "So what if she let some cannon fodder die to test you, huh? If you're worried that she'll discard—"

"Shut up."

Uzu's mouth hung open.

The interruption was sudden. A blade cutting in.

Vergil stared him down. A scowl betraying mild irritation…

"This exchange is pointless. You cannot change my mind on this."

…and then an abyss.

His gaze displayed total and unforgiving darkness. "I couldn't care less how much she values me. That is not what this is about. I will not partner up with somebody who so readily intruded into my past. I will not partner up with the person who did not hesitate to take one of my most precious possessions from me when I refused her offer."

He swung his saber and held it beside himself. The shadow of imminent aggression.

"You waste your breath. You waste my time."

Uzu stared.

Uzu blinked.

Uzu threw his head down and groaned:

"…You know what?"

And then Vergil felt it.

(A sensation he had not felt in a long time.)

It started with the dilating of his pupils, followed by the demand of his lungs to accelerate his breathing, and then the tensing of his muscles! The s-s-SHAKING— DANGER!

At that moment, it was as if gravity became five MILLION times HEAVIER! The shockwaves unleashed did not allow him to stand his ground; the son of Sparda skidded backward a good distance from the seated Elite, and for a few seconds he couldn't take his eyes off him, not when a tunnel vision had developed, peripheral surroundings be damned, not when epinephrine spread uncontrolled through his system like a nightmarish virus, not when his heart beat so FAST-FAST-FAST-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP—

This pressure…!

(When was the last time…?

…the last time his system sent so many warning signals his way—)

A black aura stained with green outlines surged, a forest drowning in a moonless night that encroached on the entire nest, earth-shaking, sinister stripes of energy streaming like vile water for a dying garden.

And Vergil watched Uzu stand up, the very source of it all, all that overwhelming power responsible for shaking his senses and bringing back primitive emotions he thought had been buried inside his bleak ribcage long ago.

His eyes were curtained by messy green bangs as he took a few steps forward.

But Vergil could see, see those glowing blue veins that were running down his face, reaching to his cheeks, nearly grazing his smile, the smile that transformed into an all-out FERAL grin the moment Uzu looked up, the white of his sclera rapidly annihilated by an INFESTATION of crimson.

"To hell with this! Dunno why I even tried!" A distorted laugh. His amusement shook with an eerie trace of madness. His voice was fragmented. The human decibels existed for a moment before the fiendish rumble took over and then the rumble was chased away by what little humanity still lingered; a haunting cycle.

Uzu spread his arms wide and opened his hands as if he were about to embrace, embrace the one who had given him such a splendid battle so far, the one who had worked around his eyes so impeccably! THE ONE WHO DESERVED TO SEE HIM LIKE THIS!

"I'LL GO ALL OUT! I'LL JUST GO AHEAD AND TEAR YOU APART! LADY SATSUKI WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THE PIECES!"

The dark energy engulfed him.

The streams ceased to stream everywhere and swirled all around him in a hellish sphere of nightmares, of blackened green that pulsed and quivered, a gargantuan organ fueled by the power of the underworld that shook the foundations of the forsaken nest, shaking, rocks bouncing and spinning around the energy, stalactites collapsing, the glaciers shattered, the blood vessels bursting, and that bulb-like mass at the center of the nest tearing open, a fountain of blood!

A familiar, solemn voice echoed inside Vergil's head:

This is it, son of Sparda.

Cerberus…

The sphere beat a little faster, a little faster, and a little FASTER.

This is where playtime ends. This is what you must outclass if your desire for retribution runs as deep as mine…

The solemn words were accompanied by blood-red lights flaring alive, the fiendish manifestation of two blood-red lights at the center of the sphere, the storm, focused on the one who had awakened them, the masterpiece of an enemy who witnessed the triggering of something lingering between human and demon.

An abomination.

This energy…!

(His senses stirred in recognition!

What he felt when above the sewers!)

Are you ready?

Ready?

Ready?

Ready?

A moment of turbulent reflection was birthed by the question posed. A moment of memory, reminders of a purpose that drove his very existence. The meaning that his eyes longed to see fulfilled.

It was this, this, this!

At this very moment. The moment his existence would be tested. The moment he had to surpass if he wanted to regain what belonged to him. What would prove he was worthy. What would show that his very being existed on a different level!

Fear!

Ha!

How trivial!

How laughable in the face of this!

How could he feel fear right now?!

There was NO PLACE FOR FEAR! NOT NOW! NOT EVER! NOT INSIDE OF HIM!

Thus… The very question posed…

"Me, ready?"

(How insulting!)

A scoff. A smirk pulled at his lips. The confidence of the one who knew he possessed that ruthless authority, the right, and the power to take down everyone who defied him!

(He was VERGIL! VERGIL! VERGIL!)

"I was BORN FOR THIS."

And then…

…the sphere ceased to pulse.

All went still.

The swirling power halted. The cave no longer shook. The rocks no longer bounced. The stalactites ceased to fall.

Vergil blinked, breath held.

The energy sphere dispersed, thinned out, and faded away all around, revealing him.

Uzu stood there, unmoving.

His eyes were on the ceiling, lost. There was a stiffness to him that felt out of place. A disturbing sensation that something was wrong, very wrong.

His aura died. The nest was plunged into total darkness.

Vergil realized his heart wasn't beating.

It wasn't only that; the lungs, he couldn't hear them working at all, not even if he focused. Uzu wasn't breathing.

He was so, so pale.

Almost as if he were dead. A standing corpse.

And Vergil would have considered it, perhaps even believed it.

(It wasn't rare for humans that were exposed to demonic power to perish like this, consumed by the energy. They weren't supposed to resist it, let alone wield it.)

Vergil would have believed it if not for the macabre scream that tore its path out of that human throat, the voice completely human, no trace of fiendish distortion in it but made WORSE because of it, a scream of pure, maximum suffering:

"...aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

It echoed in the nest.

That visceral noise of demise and rebirth.

Because Vergil witnessed it, how the veins on his face pulsed and pulsed and pulsed until they burst and blood poured out uncontrollably from them, vaporized almost immediately upon entering contact with the energy, the tearing of facial flesh, the skin peeling off the arms, the hands that clutched desperately at that shaking head of lengthening hair, the cyan glow that flared through the cracks of the armor, forcing it to break, to shatter.

Vergil witnessed the dropping pieces of armor failing to hit the soil before the shockwaves exuded turned them to powder. Vergil witnessed it all first-hand, from the beginning to the moment when those little, star-shaped rays of energy flickered around Uzu for an instant…

…and the human body, that vessel incapable of containing such extreme power…

…EXPLODED.

The scream was cut off by that nightmarish, heart-stopping boom of culmination.

The area was showered in waves of photons the color of turquoise gemstones.

It was bright enough to make Vergil's eyelids twitch, that demonic flash. The last shockwave produced by the explosion was so powerful that he had to hold his forearm in front of himself and spread his feet.

A flash, by definition, was not meant to last, and when the light died…

…all Vergil managed to do was let his eyes go wide, for what he glimpsed had broken the lines between earthly nature and hellish existence, abandoned everything, and crossed borders to become one with a darker state of being.

(Inhuman.)

Because while the shape was humanoid, nothing else was.

Humans did not stand at hurried estimates roaming above four hundred centimeters slightly hunched. Humans did not have muscles that probably tripled the size of what qualified as a boulder. Humans did not have tails, prehensile, colossal tails, like the one waving behind that thing, whipping the soil with wind-altering force.

Humans did not have fur, that forest green, utterly ruffled fur that extended through every area minus the abdomen, chest, and face, those parts exposing skin so pale it appeared hopelessly ill, set for death, indigo veins spread through it, a paranormal glow oozing from them. Humans did not have that elongated muzzle, mandibles that could fit a leopard in them, wide open so that those monstrous canines wet and warm with drool could be shown, so that tongue beyond them displayed glistening hunger.

Humans certainly did not have full-on crimson eyes, bleeding lights in the darkness for victims to witness before their ultimate doom.

"See this, Veeeeergil?"

No trace of humanity remained, all that was produced by the cords inside that gargantuan throat was a macabre, nightmare-summoning rumble. "Elite-Rank Angelo Armor: BLADE TRIGGER!"

The soundwaves erupted from that monstrous mouth.

The son of Sparda did not flinch.

The corrupted Elite tensed his vast frame, teeth gritted and caressed by the breath of a sinister growl, hands balled into immense fists that were held beside the chest; threads of pitch-black bamboo burst from his forearms and spiraled with wicked intention, a shell that clung to his flesh on that area once enough of it was accumulated.

The corrupted Elite pointed a finger at the son of Sparda, a vicious grin all over his face. "AND YOU BETTER BE READY FOR IT!"

The mighty son of Sparda felt more soundwaves, more of that scent, more of that thundering aura that shook this forsaken place.

The mighty son of Sparda gritted his teeth.

"Becoming one with demonic power will never grant you victory! NOT AGAINST ME! IN THE END…"

The mighty son of Sparda swung the frigid saber and pointed it at the Elite, the same way he had pointed that inhuman finger.

"...YOU ARE THE SAME WORTHLESS, HUMAN SCUM, MEANT TO KNEEL BEFORE ME!"

The Elite roared with laughter…

"THEN PLEASE..."

…and then he LUNGED.

"...GO AHEAD AND EARN THE RIGHT TO HAVE ME KNEEL!"

The son of Sparda…

…ADVANCED.

---

Hey! It's been a while. A really long while.

I apologize — to the people who followed, favorited, and reviewed this story, of course — for the extreme delay. This chapter was supposed to be posted on New Year's Eve.

So. Yep. The updating pace for this story is glacial. I can't really promise it will improve because I cannot guarantee that and I don't want to lie to you all. I'll be quick and to the point here; I've been busy. The studies. Learning how to drive. Getting my first job. Getting straight up shot. Sicknesses. Grieving a member of my family who passed away…

…

…I guess we hit a milestone with this chapter. Heart's Burial has officially reached 10 chapters and nearly 100k words (not counting A/N buffs) and I've gotta say I feel a little happy about it, and also a little sad. It's been over a year since I published it and while I am glad the story is where it is at the moment, I also feel that I could have advanced much further in all that time.

I still see what I have posted so far as an accomplishment.

Oh, well, enough about me.

You guys are free to tell me what you think of this chapter in the review section, if it was worth the wait, all that. As you can see, the focus on the battle between Vergil and Uzu was nearly total, with virtually no breaks from the action taking place at all.

I'm aware this may not play in my favor due to the risk of the battle feeling dragged out at certain points, so I really want to hear your opinions on this! It can help me write future fight scenes.

You are also invited to talk about your theories, predictions, and wishes for future chapters based on what you've seen here.

I guess this is the part where I answer your reviews. Do know that this is the last time I answer registered users through an A/N. I'm gonna lower my word count a little.

—

-Lightblade1121:

The Kill la Kill episodes are all named after Japanese classical pop songs. As my way to honor this aspect of Kill la Kill, I decided that the chapters of Heart's Burial would be named after a song from my 11.65 GB playlist, though I'll make exceptions sometimes. I just happened to stumble upon one that was called "They Said A Storm Was Coming" before writing chapter 9 and thought it would fit.

I'm glad you look forward to Vergil and Satsuki's continued struggle because that will be a huge part of the post-prologue. Be ready.

No Mirage Edge. No Summoned Swords. Just ice-cold doggo.

Oh, Vergil has gained power alright.

—

-not a guest:

Please don't tell me "welcome back" again, you're gonna make me feel like shit, heh.

Uzu… Hm.

There will be a lot more struggle between Vergil and Satsuki, be sure of that. As for who's worse than who… I'll leave that up to interpretation.

You called it with the Devil Arm prediction. Be ready to see more of this hate-bound pair in the future.

—

-spookyfool:

Guess who's back again?

The Nelo Horn is a concept exclusive to Heart's Burial, meant to be a prototype for something-of-no-importance-at-all. No worries.

What do you think of the battle shown in this chapter? Go ahead and tell me.

—

-Gridman Telos:

Yes. The Elite Armors bring the student council members one step closer to "demonhood" as shown in this chapter. This doesn't mean they are true demons or function as one, though.

A rematch between the samurai beasts, huh? Oh, boy. Just a hint here: Honno City ain't ready for that one.

—

-gapznick:

A new reviewer. Hello.

I assume that by "timeline" you mean "when" this is set. Heart's Burial starts before the events in Devil May Cry 3 and before the events of Kill la Kill's first episode. Pre-canon.

And be prepared for canon divergence. Lots of bloody canon divergence.

—

-Null:

Huh. Eh. Guess the 'fingers crossed' luck didn't quite reach me, at all. The chapter dropped a little too late, didn't it? Wonder if you're still there.

I'll just go ahead and say I've got big plans for Machiavelli. Like, titanic plans. The guy's almost a blank page in the franchise, so that gives me lots of creative freedom, at least until Capcom drops DMC 6 and that game just so very conveniently happens to glimpse deeper into the character, thus rendering my characterization and backstory for him erroneous.

…hopefully Heart's Burial will be finished by then.

Vergil's power will keep growing. That's a given for a son of Sparda. He's just broken.

There is no bridge between Vergil and Satsuki. Just blades.

I'll avoid talking about Uzu.

The situation with Satsuki compared to canon? Huh… How do I put this… Eh. You'll find out soon! Really. No need to rush for that.

Ryuko is much, MUCH closer than Dante in terms of arriving at the story. Don't hold your breath for the latter because he's not crashing the party anytime soon, but rest assured, when he does crash… He'll CRASH.

You write? And you never wrote a Devil May Cry/Kill la Kill story, by any chance? And if you did, why didn't you post it? Not that I'm demanding you do. You do you. I'm just curious.

Nero will show up.

Ok. Let me rephrase. Nero will come into existence. Later. Like, way, way, way, way, waaaaay later. He is my favorite.

Cerberus could have admittedly turned into a nunchaku. The problem is, after losing the Yamato, Vergil here would rather have a sword.

—

-Guest:

Never! This story won't die.

—

-Guest (2):

…Hmph! Foolishness, Guest. Foolishness.

—

average-moron:

Another new reviewer. Hello.

The earliest drafts did include the typical premise you mention. They suck aSSS… And yet they're what paved the way for the fusion premise, so I'll always keep them stored, both as a reminder and out of respect, memory from a simpler time.

The world-building… Well, I'm glad you noted it. Hopefully it remains entertaining to read.

Horror elements. I grew up hearing and reading horror stories, so that might have carried onto the choice of genre of the story, and the tone selected for certain scenes. That… And I don't know, it just feels right for DMC. The first game had a very eerie vibe, probably residual from the Resident Evil project it was supposed to be.

I'm glad you're content with the characterization and interactions in this story so far. Be prepared to see more of Vergil and Satsuki in the future.

—

-Gridman Telos:

I'm very sorry for keeping you all waiting. Yes. I am still alive and in decent health, thankfully. Hopefully it will stay that way.

—

Well, that's it for today.

See you all soon.