Dante and Vergil moved cautiously through the cavernous underworld, its walls pulsing with a sickly red glow like veins of a living creature. The air was thick with sulfur, and a distant rumble echoed like the beating of some monstrous heart.
Vergil walked slightly ahead, katana sheathed but ready. Dante trailed close behind, his sword Rebellion slung across his back, his hand near the hilt.
Suddenly, a crackle of static buzzed in their ears before a voice broke through—calm, clinical.
"Dante, Vergil, can you hear me?" It was Dr. Fisher, contacting from the train, coming through the shortwave radio she had modified for demon-world transmission.
"Loud and clear, Doc," Dante replied, tapping his earpiece with a grin.
"Excellent," Fisher said. "The radios I provided are holding up, though I can't guarantee range if you stray too far. Try to stay close—and make haste. Your devil arms should be near the Heart Chasm."
"Understood," Vergil answered tersely.
A deafening crack of thunder split the sky above the cavern. Blue lightning forked across the black clouds overhead. The howling came next—sharp, primal, and close. The shadows began to move unnaturally fast.
Vergil's eyes narrowed. "Raijū Wolves."
Dante smirked, already summons his sword. "Figures. Demon wolves made of lightning. You just can't go on a family stroll without running into something freaky."
The first wolf lunged from the shadows, electric sparks trailing from its fangs.
"Guess it's time to dance," Dante muttered, igniting the blade with a surge of red energy.
Vergil drew Yamato in a flash, standing still and poised. "Keep up, Dante."
"Oh, please," Dante cracked his neck. "You know I make this look good."
The wolves circled—then attacked.
The Raijū Wolf lunged—electric fangs bared and crackling with voltage. Dante sidestepped with ease and drove his sword straight through its chest, pinning it to the ground as it burst in a shower of blue sparks.
"Guess that one wasn't house-trained," he quipped.
But then, four more wolves emerged from the shadows—larger, faster, and sparking with even more volatile energy. They circled the brothers like predators, lightning crackling off their fur and igniting the cavern walls with bursts of blue flame.
Vergil didn't flinch.
One of the wolves darted toward him, jaws snapping. In a blur of motion, Vergil vanished and reappeared behind it, Yamato sheathed. The wolf paused midair—then split clean in two as the slash caught up.
Dante twirled his devil sword.
The next wolf lunged, and Dante ducked low, grabbing the creature by its foreleg and swinging it into another. They both tumbled in a heap, only to be riddled with ebony and ivory rounds mid-roll. Blue light flared, and they exploded.
The final wolf tried to leap at Vergil's blindside—but was met with a sudden barrage of summoned swords from above. It froze mid-pounce, impaled from every angle, and disintegrated into mist.
Dante rolled his shoulders. "Well, that was fun. Got any more, or was that the welcoming committee?"
Vergil calmly wiped his blade clean and sheathed it. "If they were the welcome… I wonder what the guards look like."
Lightning rumbled again, this time farther away.
Dr. Fisher's voice crackled back in through the comms. "I'm reading a spike in dimensional energy ahead. You're close to something—possibly your Devil Arms."
"Copy that," Dante said with a grin, resting Rebellion over his shoulder as the brothers trudged deeper into the underworld cavern. The air was thick with brimstone, the ground pulsing faintly beneath their boots. "Let's go see what Hell left under the Christmas tree."
The silence between them stretched for a moment, filled only by the echo of their footsteps and the distant rumble of something moving far off. Dante glanced at Vergil, his expression shifting from amused to mildly curious.
"Hey," he started casually, "mind if I ask you something a little… personal?"
Vergil didn't slow his pace, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his awareness. "What is it?"
Dante shoved his free hand into his coat pocket. "Who was Nero's mother?"
Vergil's response was immediate and icy. "That is between me and myself."
Dante raised a brow. "Really? Still playing the mystery card? Come on, I've known you for how long, and I've literally been to Hell and back with you—twice. You can't throw me a bone?"
Vergil shot him a sideways glare, sharp as a blade. "Drop it."
But Dante, naturally, didn't. "I mean, no offense, but the kid was in a cult when I found him. Kinda screams 'bad parenting.' I always figured his mom was a drifter. Maybe even… a hooker?"
That did it.
Vergil stopped walking and turned his head slowly, his piercing gaze like ice forming on steel. "Say that again."
Dante grinned, undeterred. "Touchy subject, huh?"
"You mock what you don't understand," Vergil muttered, resuming his pace with a flick of his coat. "As if your record with women is anything worth noting."
"Hey, I never claimed to be a saint." Dante chuckled, following behind. "Just saying—if the kid's gonna keep carrying the Sparda legacy, he deserves to know where he came from. And yeah, maybe I'm curious too."
Vergil didn't respond. But for a brief moment, Dante thought he saw something flicker in his brother's expression—regret, maybe even sorrow—before it vanished behind the usual stoicism.
Dante sighed. "Fine, keep your secrets. But one day, you're gonna have to tell him. Whether you like it or not."
They ventured deeper into the shadow-choked path until the narrow tunnel widened into a vast, storm-lit cave. The sound of crackling energy filled the air, and sparks danced along the jagged walls like living lightning.
Suddenly, a thunderous voice boomed from the darkness.
"WHO GOES THERE?"
Lightning struck a massive stone formation ahead, revealing a towering wolf-like beast, its fur bristling with crackling blue electricity. Glowing eyes locked onto the brothers, and arcs of energy surged with every breath it took.
"WHO APPROACHES THE RAIJU KING?" the creature snarled, baring fangs that shimmered like blades. The air grew heavy as the Raiju King stepped forward, sniffing at the air around them.
The Raiju King stepped forward, sparks leaping from his paws with each thundering stride. His voice rumbled low, almost reverent but laced with challenge.
"Sparda… his blood flows in you both." The giant wolf bared his fangs. "Then one of you must face me. Only the worthy shall claim my power."
Vergil stepped ahead, calm and composed. "I'll take this one, Dante."
Dante shrugged with a cocky grin. "Be my guest. Just don't take all day."
With a blur of motion, the battle began.
The Raiju King lunged with the force of a thunderclap, lightning surging down his limbs. Vergil vanished—teleporting in a blink—and reappeared above the beast, Yamato slashing down in an arc. Sparks flew as sword met storm.
The Raiju King snarled, his body twisting mid-air. His claws struck with the speed of light itself, but Vergil danced between them, gliding across air currents and shadows. Every movement was a deliberate stroke of grace and violence. He was an artist—his canvas, the storm; his brush, Yamato.
The cave erupted into chaos. Lightning tore across the walls, collapsing pillars of rock. Gusts of wind howled like banshees. The storm outside fed into the cavern, as if the Raiju King had tethered the heavens to his wrath.
Vergil's coat flared as he dove and spun, sword carving the very air. Yamato's cuts were so clean they split the arcs of lightning, severing bolts mid-flight. Still, the Raiju King pressed him harder—leaping, spinning, raining down volleys of electrified fangs and claw slashes.
Every blow the beast delivered would have sundered a mountain. But Vergil was not a mountain.
He was a storm of his own.
Vergil sheathed Yamato.
In that moment of stillness, the Raiju King surged forward, claws outstretched in a blur of white and violet.
Time shattered. Blades of light exploded around the Raiju King from all angles, cutting into him faster than he could blink. The King staggered, howling in pain, his body crackling as blood—glowing, blue-white like raw plasma—splattered across the rocks.
"I see now why the blood of Sparda was feared," the Raiju King growled, rising slowly despite the wounds. "You are no mere hybrid. You are judgment made flesh."
Vergil didn't respond. He launched forward again, twin images of himself flickering in his wake. He clashed against the King with renewed fury, Yamato slicing through limbs and lightning. But the King adapted. His strikes became sharper, wild arcs of lightning shooting from his tail, his paws, even his breath.
The battle spiraled higher—onto a cliff inside the cavern. They fought on the edge, lightning exploding around them like celestial fireworks. Dante watched from below, arms crossed, occasionally ducking when a stray bolt vaporized the rocks near him.
Vergil summoned Doppelganger—his spectral clone. Two Vergils became four, then eight, their blades forming a spinning storm around the beast. The Raiju King roared, his body a glowing sun of rage, and with one mighty howl, he unleashed Tempest Howl—a roar that became a shockwave, flattening the duplicates and forcing Vergil back.
The King pounced, pinning Vergil for the first time in the fight. His fangs crackled with electric fury, descending toward Vergil's throat.
Then—
Vergil grinned.
"You are no king. Just another beast to be culled."
A brilliant blue aura flared around him. The Demon-trigger form of Vergil ignited—horns curling from his head, spectral wings unfurling like blades, and Yamato glowing like a sword forged in lightning itself.
He struck upward—a vertical slash so fast it didn't just cut—it erased.
The Raiju King's head flinched back, jaws snapping empty air. He stumbled, confused, blood trailing behind. Then Vergil launched into the air, above the King, and rained down cuts like falling stars.
Yamato met flesh.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each strike weakened the Raiju King's form, tearing the storm from his bones.
Vergil landed in a crouch, and sheathed his blade slowly.
Click.
The Raiju King stopped. Then a clean diagonal line bisected his body from shoulder to hip.
The beast looked at Vergil, not with hatred, but with ancient understanding.
"I see now," the King whispered. "You are more than Sparda. You are evolution."
The light left his eyes. His colossal body dissolved into blue mist—spirit and storm unraveling into the ether.
But something remained.
A shimmer hung in the air where the King had stood, a core of condensed lightning and pride. It pulsed with sentience, drawn to Vergil. It flowed toward him, shaping itself as it moved.
A blade.
Forged of pure storm essence, curved and elegant like a whisper of wind.
Vergil reached out—and the weapon formed in his palm: a wakizashi, etched in silver bolts and divine markings. The spirit of the Raiju King hummed through it, a promise of power and precision.
He twirled it once, then again, the wakizashi dancing beside Yamato like a loyal sibling.
Lightning coiled around him in a wreath of silent applause.
Dante whistled from below. "Well damn. Now you've got two swords. Gonna start juggling soon?"
Vergil didn't respond. He sheathed both blades with one fluid motion.
He smirked, eyes gleaming. "This will be useful."
Dante crossed his arms and gave a casual smirk, watching Vergil twirl the new Raiju-forged wakizashi with a graceful flourish. Lightning still crackled faintly from its blade. "Not bad," Dante remarked, clearly impressed despite himself.
But before Vergil could respond, a soft sound echoed through the cavern—faint, melodic, and unmistakably feminine. Laughter. Light and playful, yet layered with something more… predatory.
Both brothers turned toward the source, instincts flaring. The air grew thick with magic, the scent of lavender and brimstone clinging to the shadows. Without warning, a violent storm of bats erupted from the darkness, swirling into a chaotic vortex. The sheer force of it knocked the twins back a few steps, their coats flaring in the wind.
When the swarm finally parted, she appeared.
Floating just above the ground with effortless poise, a woman emerged from the heart of the storm. She had long, flowing green hair that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, framing a mischievous, alluring smile. Her black and pink one-piece bodysuit hugged every curve with elegance and confidence, while bat-like wings extended from her back and head, flapping lazily like she hadn't a care in the world.
"Well, well," she said, her voice like silk and smoke. "Do my eyes deceive me? Or have I truly stumbled upon the infamous Sons of Sparda?"
Dante gave a dry sigh, cracking his neck. "Great. A succubus. Just what I needed."
Vergil, sword still in hand, stared at her coldly. "And you are?"
She smiled wider and dipped into a graceful, teasing bow. "Calm yourselves, gentlemen. I didn't come to fight—though I wouldn't mind a little… playtime."
Rising with a gleam in her eye, she added, "I am Morrigan Aensland. Matriarch of the Aensland family… and one of the ruling powers of the Makai."