Worms May Cry
Adjustment – Chapter 2.4: You Can't Break Me
[Vergil]
The morning was a simple one, in Vergil's humble opinion. The nomadic refugees woke up early to begin heading to their camp. Both the Dark Slayer and Dembe followed the group as their escort while the sun rose higher in the sky at each passing moment.
Vergil had been of a split mind on this task. One part enjoyed how simple this was as none had come to assault the group in all the time that they had walked. The other part was extremely bored and wanted something that could be fought and best. This left the Dark Slayer in a conflicted mood that he did his best to hide under a mask of indifference.
Thankfully, the journey didn't take too long as the group eventually spotted a growing camp in the distance. From the looks that the refugees had, it appeared that this one was theirs.
As the small group approached the small camp of tents, Vergil spotted people coming from the tents towards the group. Some of them pulled those of the returning group into embraces while frantically speaking to one another.
Others seemed to just reenter the camp without as many warm greetings. One of those, Vergil took keen note of, was Nuani.
Eventually, after some of the excited air died down, a man with graying hair that was styled in braids going to his shoulders walked over to Vergil and Dembe. His face would've had a mostly filled beard if not for the burn scar that went down the side of his right cheek. Yet, even with the small disfigurement, his warm hazel eyes and kind smile made such an injury unnoticeable.
He began to speak, and Dembe quickly translated, "The man here thanks us, mostly you," Dembe said with a remark and knowing look, "for bringing his people back alive. He is called Dakarai and he leads these refugees."
Following this, the translator quickly said a few words, some which Vergil could interpret was Dembe introducing them due to their names being used, well, Dembe's alongside Ibilisi wa Bluu. A few more words from Dakarai, and Dembe turned to Vergil.
"Dakarai says that he wants to invite us into the shade of his tent. There, we talk further." Dembe finished and added, "This is an invitation of great respect." Even if Vergil wasn't the most sociable of people, he could still understand how personal such an offer like this might be.
He was being given shelter in the home of the leader of these refugees, however humble it may be. It was Dakarai's attempt at giving what little these people had, and it'd be immensely disrespectful to turn it down. That, and Vergil would never lower himself to be so crass and impolite like Dante might be as to refuse this.
The Dark Slayer gave a nod, receiving a massive grin from Dakarai in return as he motioned the pair to follow. While doing so, Vergil took the time to look around at the camp and its people, just as said people also took the time to look at Vergil.
He did make quite a striking appearance with his white hair, dark clothing of blues and blacks, and the long form of Yamato sheathed in his right hand. He gave off a regal bearing, but also something else…unhuman.
From what the Dark Slayer could see, these people had only as much as they could carry with them. Some of the tents looked more like hastily cobbled together blankets and animal hide than stable structure. Others were just a few stick stabbed into the ground with cloth tied above it to keep away the sun.
There were a few children that Vergil could see, but they stayed close to their parents or guardians instead of running around and playing. The adults weren't much better as, aside from those still outside the camp that were speaking with their returned loved ones, everyone else was barely able to hold any form of optimism in the wake of the heavy weight of an uncertain future. And yet, Vergil noted that some of the people here began looking at him with an intent or emotion he couldn't discern.
They truly were a people without a home. Lost and unsure of what to do besides survive and move on. Something that Vergil was familiar with. It made Dakarai's joy stand out all the greater.
Eventually, the three arrived at a simple tent that was just as basic as all the others, yet the three went inside and sat down. The Dark Slayer left Yamato's hilt resting in his lap, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. If Dakarai noticed how guarded Vergil was, then he didn't show any sign of it.
Then, Dakarai spoke and Dembe translated. "He, once again, thanks you for saving his people. But Dakarai also talks about those who returned speaking of a devil of nature attacking them, and of you saving them. He would like to know more."
Vergil thought for a moment, then answered, "I simply defeated a demon that planned to use those it captured as sustenance for power by consuming their blood. After this, I-"
Before he could say anything further, a commotion could be heard from outside as woman quickly rushed into the tent and spoke frantically.
"What's going on?" Vergil asked quietly to Dembe. A harsh look came upon the soldier's face.
"Vehicles of marauders are coming. Likely to take supplies, woman, and children. Kill the men. Out here, outside territories of warlords, they take from the weak and thrive since there is mostly no protection. Maybe, they might grow strong enough to form a warband of their own."
Dembe answered while pulling the lever of his rifle and flicking off the safety with an audible click. At the same time, Dakarai went to the back of his tent and pulled out a bolt-action rifle that looked old in preparation. The Dark Slayer's eyes narrowed as he thought about his next action.
Technically, this wasn't his fight as he had already escorted the refugees to their camp. And yet, it felt wrong for him to just leave these people to fend for themselves, especially since he had seen how little they had. Even now, glancing among the scurrying people, he could barely count a handful of guns among them. As much as he distasted the weapons, the Dark Slayer knew that most humans required them to defend themselves.
Against an entire group of marauders experienced in fighting, these people were going to lose.
Memories of V came to mind, of his weak human form calling upon the help of his stronger demonic allies to aid in defeating foes that he couldn't himself. That sense of empathy, slowly growing within himself after being rekindled by V from the husk it had once been, chose that moment to call out to him.
Vergil's grip tightened on Yamato's sheath as he stood up from when he had sat.
"Parasitic scum." Vergil commented in annoyance as he left the tent that he had been staying in. Yet, as he walked, the Dark Slayer couldn't help but see a poetic irony in this moment. Once, his human half called upon other demons for aid, now he was the demon giving aid to humans.
Dembe quickly followed after the Dark Slayer and the pair began marching to the outskirts of the refugee camp to where the band of marauders were approaching.
Around the pair, the refugees were in chaotic motion as they were either setting up cover, hiding the most vulnerable members of their group, or taking positions with the few weapons that they did have. He took a glance over to Dembe who walked beside him while inspecting his gun for any potential issues.
"Why follow me? I can handle this alone." Vergil questioned.
Appearing satisfied with his quick inspection, he racked the gun and looked to the white-haired man, "Need your translator, don't you? Besides, tend to be safer when near you than when away."
"Very well." Vergil replied as the pair were outside of the camp at this point. After a bit more walking, the Dark Slayer stopped along with Dembe and the two waited. Vergil wouldn't bother entertaining these men with his full effort and would let them come to him instead.
What came of this was the marauders stopping their jeeps and trucks in front of the pair before numerous men unloaded from the four vehicles with guns trained on the pair. Then, one man called out to the pair.
Dembe didn't need any prompting to translate, "He asks if a white boy carrying a stick and an old man carrying a rusty gun are going to try and stop them." Then, the marauder began laughing, followed by the rest of his comrades.
This insult to his inherited blade only served to annoy the Dark Slayer as his thumb eagerly rubbed against the tsuba of Yamato in preparation. Without looking to Dembe, Vergil said, "Ask the man if he would like a moment to make peace with his god."
Dembe relayed the message back and the marauder began glaring. Then, surprisingly, he raised his hand into the air and multiple silver spear-like objects appeared above him.
"He has abilities as well. Interesting." Vergil commented, though that was the most amount of interest he would give the man as the Dark Slayer was still incredibly displeased with the man.
Before the marauder could even continue what he planned to do with his created weapons, Vergil instantly conjured multiple ethereal, blue swords of his own that flew at the marauder's spears and broke them. The marauder and his comrades looked at the display incredulously, clearly not expecting another person with powers the be here.
They didn't have long to gawk as the Dark Slayer appeared next to the man in a blink of an eye and slammed a sheathed Yamato into his head, eliciting a mighty thwack as the man's skull cracked from the force.
"A stick, hmm?" Vergil commented with a spiteful joy. If the man wanted to call his beloved weapon a mere stick, then he wasn't even worthy of seeing Yamato's blade.
Another moment, and the click of rifle triggers being pulled, followed by the bullets being fired filled Vergil's ears. He had already blinked away as four of the marauders fired at where he had once been, in a panic. Yet, instead of hitting him, they suddenly shot each other.
More chaos followed as the remaining men started looking around in fear for the demonic foreigner. Instead of a fight, Vergil would appear behind one man, "Scum!" Slam them with a massive crack from Yamato, then disappear as the survivors shot where he had once been, riddling the corpse of their comrade with bullets before the body even had time to drop.
Vergil worked at peak efficiency. Appear by another marauder, "Pathetic!" Kill them in a single strike of a sheathed Yamato, disappear and reappear behind another to repeat the process. "Worthless!"
For Dembe, he found himself to be thankful for being an outside observer to this massacre as he had already been on the receiving end once before. That had been more than enough for a single lifetime. This continued to cement the thought to Dembe that Vergil was a demon in the guise of a man.
It wasn't much longer before Vergil had meticulously broken all of his opposition, leaving the bodies behind as he walked back to Dembe with a slight flick of Yamato's sheath to remove any of the blood that still clung to it.
As he returned, the refugee leader jogged out from where he had taken cover with a rifle and met up with the pair. He then began to speak, which Dembe quickly translated, "Ibilisi, Dakarai says that he is thankful for your protection. He doubted that his people would have been able to stop the raiders, especially one with magic."
Vergil gave a curt nod to Dakarai. "Tell him that it was of no concern. I only dealt with scum." Dembe quickly relayed this back to Dakarai who put his hands in a motion of prayer to the Dark Slayer before speaking once more.
"He asks what you would have done with the equipment of the dead and their vehicles?" Vergil gave a bored glance over his shoulder at the carnage he left, then he looked forwards once more.
"Do what you wish with the vehicles and guns since they hold little value to me." Vergil answered.
This was quickly followed by a quick back-and-forth between Dembe and Dakarai before Dembe looked to the Dark Slayer once more, "Dakarai blesses you with all the aid that the gods may give. He also wishes to take you wherever it is you wish to go with the vehicles you've kindly gifted to the refugees."
Gratitude was still a strange feeling to Vergil. He had almost never received it from others due to a mixture of his solitary nature and his reluctance to interact with humans. The Dark Slayer avoided making eye-contact with Dakarai and simply added, "If that is your wish, then I will take up your offer of transport. When shall we leave?"
Vergil was certainly aware that he could cut out the middleman and simply fly to the next location of the Qliphoth roots in his demonic form, but there came the issue of taking Dembe with him. Vergil was reluctant to carry his translator during a flight, and he feared that such an action would terrify the man into uselessness. He regarded utilizing the fear of others as a useful tool to get others to do what he wished, but too much of it could result in Dembe attempting to run away or possibly break the man's mind.
No, this was preferable. His reluctance to carry the man like some beast of burden was of lesser note in comparison to the prior reasoning. Much lesser.
The Dark Slayer immediately set aside these thoughts as Dembe translated once more, "Dakarai says that his people could be ready within the hour. Where would you like to go, Ibilisi wa Bluu?"
Vergil looked out upon the horizon as he sensed the familiar presence of the Qliphoth. "North. I sense the Qliphoth in that direction, and it is there I must go." Vergil answered while pointing in the exact northward direction.
"Ibilisi, Dakarai asks why it is that you must go to the devil roots?"
The white-haired man's blue eyes looked over to Dakarai's hazel and replied, "Because the Qliphoth must be destroyed. If not, it will lead to more demons appearing in this world. It is my responsibility."
When Dembe relayed these words, Dakarai's eyes took on an understanding gaze as he spoke. "He says that he understands. Dakarai will speak to his people as they must hear of this. Then, he will tell you his answer. He asks for your patience."
With that, Dakarai walked away from the two and back to the camp before loudly calling out so that all the camp could hear. 'Everyone, come here!' Vergil could insinuate from the way that the refugees began to gather around Dakarai.
"Depending, Ibilisi, they may take us to the devil roots or they might give you one of the vehicles that belong to you, even if you gifted them." Dembe surmised, something which the Dark Slayer agreed with.
It was while standing there that Vergil noticed Nuani attempting to sneakily observe the man from behind one of the tents. Vergil's lips slightly quirked at the boy's failed attempt at espionage and pretended to not notice so that he could focus on Dakarai speaking to the crowd.
"What is he saying?" Vergil asked.
"He says that you, the man who helped them three times in their need, now needs their help. That there are more of those devil roots spewing evil on the land, like those that took the people you saved. Their people and home have been taken by the fire devil, the Ash Beast, yet these devils try to claim the rest of them. If more of the devils come, then nowhere in Africa is safe."
Dakarai then thumped his chest with his fist once before pointing to the vehicles, then to Vergil and Dembe, and finally in the direction that Vergil had pointed out earlier. "He asks his people how far they are willing to take us or if they will gift you back one of the vehicles you gave."
Vergil watched in quiet silence as quiet murmuring spread across the crowd. Then, a woman called out more unfamiliar words except for 'Ibilisi wa Bluu'. Then a man spoke after her in what appeared to be solidarity. Then another voice spoke out in the crowd.
And another. And another. It became a cacophony of people chanting 'Ibilisi wa Bluu'. Vergil gave a questioning glance over to Dembe.
"Hard to translate so many at once. All of them agree to take us the entire way. And…" Dembe trailed off for a moment.
"And?" Vergil asked.
"A few are starting to see you as a guardian spirit." Dembe answered, actually causing Vergil's brow to lightly furrow.
"What?"
"You summon swords of blue light. You move like the wind. Those with power would kill them, ignore them, take everything from them, or rule them. Instead, you protect them and are on a journey to fight devils. Ibilisi wa Bluu, you sound more like a god or spirit from one of their stories than what you are." Dembe explained.
"And do you subscribe to their belief as well, now?"
"No, Ibilisi wa Bluu. You are still the blue devil I saw fall from the sky." That answer filled Vergil with a small amount of amusement.
The quiet talk ended when Dakarai walked over to the pair and began speaking. "He says that they will follow you the entire way." Dembe translated. Vergil gave a curt nod in response.
It was soon after this that the entire camp had packed up. After scavenging from the marauders' corpses, the refugees acquired more than enough guns to equip half of the group with. Luckily, there were more than enough jeeps and trucks to fit the entire group of refugees, even if it was cramped. That was still better than having to walk the entire way.
Dembe reasoned that they were probably one of the marauding gangs that continually moved around and preyed upon weak groups while avoiding the armies of the warlords. The multiple canisters of gas in each of the vehicles added credence to the theory.
It was soon after everyone had been settled, with Vergil sitting in the passenger's seat of a truck with Dembe between him and Dakarai at the wheel, that the caravan of wanderers drove northwards.
It was after a day of driving that the caravan finally stopped and set up camp for the night. All the while, Vergil sat upon a rock and watched the people move about in silence. None tried to approach the man during this time. None except for Dembe, Dakarai, and Nuani.
The time that Dakarai had approached was when Dembe had been there to translate. It was merely an invitation to the campfire to have dinner which Vergil declined with a shake of the head. Dembe already expected this to be the answer since the Dark Slayer didn't need to eat, at least that is what he claimed. That ended with the two men leaving Vergil be to continue silently observing.
A little after they had left, Vergil's icy eyes caught Nuani coming over to him, crude sword in hand and an excited look upon his face. For a moment, Vergil's expression softened as he observed the boy with a minor amount of amusement. Whereas almost all of the adults of the refugees observed him from a distance and seemed hesitant to approach, a single child had no such hesitation.
And upon approach, Nauni spoke excitedly, "Tomorrow!"
Vergil nodded and stood up from the rock. "Yes." He then motioned for the boy to follow him a bit further away and unsheathed Yamato before waiting for Nuani to catch up and ready his own blade. When the boy finally had, Vergil began the first set of katas and waited for Nuani to copy.
To the Dark Slayer's satisfaction, Nuani's motions were better than last night, even if there were one or two mistakes that Vergil found with the motion of his swing. "Hold." Vergil said, causing the boy to stop as the man adjusted Nuani's arm. "Again."
Another repetition of the previously errored kata, and Nuani looked over to Vergil for his approval. This came in the form of a small upward quirk of the man's lips and a nod. A look of joy grew on Nuani's face at the silent acknowledgment before Vergil began the next kata.
In his mind, he wondered why the boy clung to him so? Throughout his observations of the boy during the day, the Dark Slayer never spotted any adult that seemed to interact with Nuani in a familial manner. Could he be an orphan?
Vergil certainly suspected it. Almost instinctually so, as one orphan to another. Perhaps that was why he was more willing to interact with and humor the child. To be fairly honest, the Dark Slayer wondered if he might have been glad to have someone teach him methods to acquiring power after the fire that made Dante and him orphans, instead of spending all of the extra effort to do it himself? Perhaps it may have made him stronger than he was now, maybe even more personable instead of withdrawn from humanity as he had been for most of his life?
As he watched Nuani copy the next few slashes, Vergil made some minor adjustments to the boy's form with a tap of Yamato's sheath. If he had stayed with her, would he have done the same with Nero as he did with Nuani right now?
Ever since he posed the question to himself atop the Qliphoth on what his and Dante's lives might be like if their positions had been switched, the thoughts constantly came to Vergil's mind on what might have changed in his life. What mistakes he might not have made.
Shaking these thoughts away that clouded his mind, Vergil resolved himself with a single conclusion. He has made these choices, mistakes included. Even so, that didn't mean that his future couldn't be better. He would be better, since he no longer had the luxury of falling back to his old excuses of acquiring power.
He had power. Both Dante and he had more than enough power to be considered some of the strongest beings in existence, if they weren't already.
Now, he had to work on the neglected humanity of his heritage. Starting simple in this manner was one of the ways to do so. And at least this way, Vergil could actually find some enjoyment in the process.