Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 11
Nemesis
Pairing: Vergil x Reader
Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.
Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 (you are here!)
Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Proceed with caution In this one we're also starting to see Vergil has dissociation episodes and uses grounding techniques not to have panic attacks
Author’s notes: I hope you guys can forgive me for taking so long to update after I said I wouldn't. Someone in my family had an accident and I had to be around to care for them - been running on low energy for quite a while because it has taken me all my attention and time. I will keep on writing and updating, and I'm thankful for you guys being patient with me "^^ Alsooooo... I love Vergil and reader being two freaks a little bit too excited to be fighting each other again in this chapter 👀
Chapter 11
It all felt like a dream sometimes.
Hearing his own footsteps walking in derelict cities again, while the screeching of far away demons terrorized innocent people, looking like hazy memories of a long gone past… Seen through the lens of dreams; fruits of dissociation moments that kept him alive through the worst torments he could endure.
And that was the word. Endure. Double-edged, bitter and sweet: carrying the bite of a torture and the pride of sheer will. Vergil endured and survived. He didn’t really know how, but he did.
What to do, then, after going through all that pain? How to feel, now that there was more than hurting to be felt? He did take things for granted when he was younger – with such recklessness, such iron will, there was nothing but his goal in front of him. But now… It was even strange, to feel the slightly cold bite of the wind against his face, gradually chapping his dry lips; to feel the ups and downs of different pavements under his feet; the warmness of the blood of the demons he killed, sprinkling over his face and clothes.
And now, back to the human world… Back to the rare openings of the Abyss. Vergil thought he had forgotten how it felt like, but as soon as he stepped on the streets of Mercy Springs, he had that tug in his chest – the one that never forgot how clear his mother’s voice sounded when he tried to reach the Abyss for the very first time.
Vergil also sensed something else… A different kind of stir, that he thought long gone. One that would only cause tempest inside him when the Abyss was near… And that stubborn, prideful human appeared to fight him and fumble all his plans.
Vergil furrowed his eyebrows even further, still walking without any detours or distractions towards where he felt the Abyss could be found. Even while chained under Mundus’ control, he kept seeing that human; that stubborn, arrogant, skilled… Pitiful human, kneeling on the other side of that cold, dark, forgotten place he would always find in his mind – he didn’t know if he was sleeping or awake when those encounters happened, but he did remember them.
And he always wondered why.
Why, out of all the people he had ever met, it was you appearing as a vision…? As broken and shattered as him, looking so… Defeated. Lifeless. It bothered him to always look into your eyes and find that version of you completely voided of light; of the spark of will and survival you carried since the first day you met. A warrior with no reason, torn apart and… Tired.
You deserved better than that. He deserved better than that.
Perhaps you were a mirror – one of many Mundus had put in front of him; to mock him, to humiliate him. To remind him, over and over, he was nothing but a scared child, being maimed and torn apart in a cemetery while terrified, crying for someone to save him. A broken warrior, voided of light, defeated by their own heart.
It didn’t explain why you appeared when his shackles were broken, though. Why it was you who lit up his spark, to try one last time. To survive. No matter the consequences.
“No matter the consequences…” Vergil murmured to himself, encountering a block in his path: one of the buildings around him had collapsed, creating a barrier that was, perhaps, too much for him to cut through. “Hmmm…”
Vergil discreetly looked around, trying to find an alternative path. If there was none, he would have to put Yamato to use and break through that solid wall of building debris. It would take a while, but it would be better than getting lost, trying to find something in a city he did not know.
Even if he was concerned about solving the problem at hand, Vergil did notice a presence shifting the energy around. Quiet steps approached with precision; too elegant and quiet to be his brother’s.
You had sensed the Abyss, as much as he did – but also that presence, that you would only find in your dreams. Upon seeing that man walking with a purpose down the street, you did think that, maybe, your mind was fooling you… That maybe he was another one of the Abyss’ tricks, luring you closer and closer.
You did have to get there, so it wasn’t much of a bad thing.
As he halted at the same place you did earlier – and now you were back from searching an alternative route – you observed him carefully; almost like a predator stalking their prey.
He was different. Of course, it was to be expected after so long, but he wasn’t wearing his signature long blue coat that made you easily find him whenever you met – or thought you met him. Watching him from behind, he held his sword in one of his hands as he always did, but what made you certain it was him, was the regal demeanor that he seemed to carry at all times.
Proud. Arrogant. Ruthless. Even if his long coat was now black and frayed, you were sure.
And you did try to ignore how your heart seemed like it was going to jump out of your throat – you never thought you would be filled with so much joy upon finding, once again, the best adversary you ever had; that he was not dead.
There was still a chance to have him die by your hands.
“After all this time…” Your voice echoed on the silent street, making Vergil slowly turn his head to one side, to look over his shoulder. You could only see the silver of his eyes, but you knew he was back. “Hello, demon.”
It was your voice. Of his enemy. Alive.
Vergil had hopes, but in what seemed to be an eternal torture, he thought it was only a foolish glimmer to be smothered, as all other light inside of him.
But it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dissociation episode. It wasn’t a fantasy made up by his mind to have him endure. It was real: the coldness against his cheeks, the faint breeze between his strands of hair, the blood slithering through his fingers, your voice.
It was real, and you were alive.
You held back your reaction to frown in confusion as soon as you saw a smile appearing in his lips. Instead, you slightly raised your head, carrying the proud demeanor you would always bore whenever he was around.
“You still haven’t given up, human…?” He turned around slowly, just like he asked that question. His eyes looked sharper and colder, almost as if a glare was enough to kill one of his foes, and his face carried the years that went by – even after everything, time had kept most of his appearance; but he did have something of harsher and more dangerous since the last time you saw each other.
“You should know better.” Your answer came with a prouder tone, carrying a certainty set in stone as you took out your sword and had it ready to fight – with your head held slightly high, pointing the silver blade to his feet. It wasn’t a fighting stance, and it was deliberate: you were telling him you didn’t have to get ready to attack or defend; you had honed your skills enough to be able to do any of those at lightning speed – and to be able to read him in the blink of an eye. “I don’t give up.”
Vergil, in response, limited himself to raise one brow – considering if, for the first time, you weren’t thinking too highly of your skills. After all… He was a lot more powerful than the last time you fought.
He did enjoy it, though.
“I see reasoning won’t work with you.” Vergil mused, still with a half-smile on his lips, entertained by the thought of fighting you after such a long time – he didn’t have the intention to hurt you, but if you proved to be too much of a nuisance and a delay in getting to the Abyss on time, he would have to deal with you.
“I told you before…” And, as you spoke, Vergil unsheathed the Yamato, keeping the blade in one hand and the sheathe on the other. His eyes turned to a predator gaze, as he slowly walked around, studying how you moved your feet to circle him and figure out the best moment to attack. You couldn’t help but have a small smile on your own lips: no one had ever fought you like he did. “Every time the Abyss opens, I will be here to stop you.”
And you could swear you heard a faint giggle, as he kept his slow and certain circling footwork.
“I wouldn’t wish it otherwise. Human.”
You had almost forgotten how he spoke that word nearly like an insult.
It was as if you both had felt the other was about to attack and didn’t want to leave the pleasure of the first move to the enemy – the moment you raised your sword, was the moment Vergil’s grip on Yamato got tighter and soon you were running towards each other; blades clashing with the strength of skillful attacks, rekindling a rivalry that was never lost.
Vergil had almost forgotten how it was to fight you. Fighting Dante was one thing – he was as strong as Vergil, skilled in his very own way; Dante knew so many different styles and mastered so many different weapons, he was a constant surprise when fighting against. Vergil always knew to expect the unexpected and never take things for granted with his brother – and knew the source of his power derived from his heart.
Fighting Dante was like fighting uncontrollable fire; which would only spread in unpredictable patterns if not smothered of all its oxygen to put it out. You had the same spark of human passion in yourself, but you used it almost like its own weapon: your eyes carefully observed the battle and your opponent, allowing that fire to burn like fuel only in the most opportune moments.
There was a delightful difference between fighting you both: Dante was a trial of skill and power, stemming from the same blood that took different paths and opposite approaches to survival; You were a graceful combat, requiring knowledge of intricate techniques, footwork, opponent reading and pure focus – almost like a grounding meditation, rooting oneself at that very moment, with distraction being harshly punished with blood.
You moved your feet skillfully on the pavement, perfectly complementing his tactical maneuvers – almost as if, for each of his movements, you knew the precise response. As Vergil attacked, you blocked; already with your counter-attack in mind, delivering all his strength back to him.
It was a good thing he was used to blocking powerful blows – after all, Dante didn’t hold back when fighting Vergil.
He was taken slightly aback, though, when you stringed a series of furious attacks, a lot quicker than he remembered you were able to. Something of it resembled his own speed – of course, with the limitations of humans – but it was obvious you put in a lot of training to be able to get to that swiftness.
Vergil couldn’t hold back a quiet smile on the corner of his lips: that meant he could pick up the pace.
You immediately noticed how much faster his counter-attack came – and answered in equal footing, blocking with your blade and already thinking of your next attack. Vergil, though, seemed to be on a mission to see how fast you could be – and how quickly he could attack you.
That was something you learned while fighting him: keeping your eyes on your enemy, at all times. You didn’t divert your attention from his hands, from his blade, from his feet. Looking down, you could see how he was about to step, and you could infer which would be his next attack – and you blocked all the attacks he made rain upon you; skillfully mirroring his steps as you walked backwards, with Vergil pushing you increasingly near the building behind you.
You narrowed your eyes, which made his silvery predator gaze spark with attention. You knew what he was trying to do: if he backed you to the wall, there would be no escape; you would be at his mercy and any evading would become more difficult by the second.
It was a common strategy to lock down your enemy, cornering them in a way it was hard to counter-attack and the only movement they had left was defending until breaking. As soon as you narrowed your eyes, Vergil knew you had picked up on his strategy.
And you countered him faster than he expected.
Before he could get you halfway towards the building, that newly found viciousness of yours sparked again in your fighting; with a flick of the wrist, you found an opening to change from a defensive position to an attack position, and counter the speed at which Vergil was attacking you.
He couldn’t stop himself from finding it interesting, how much you had grown through all those years he was locked in Hell – apparently, you had found someone to practice with, even without him around. Your attacks were now refined as ever, but with an edge of ruthlessness that you seemed to avoid when you were younger… And he could appreciate that.
What Vergil didn’t appreciate, though, was when you started pushing back, making him walk backwards… And, with that, after having one of your attacks blocked by Yamato’s blade, you did something that made him furrow his brows in the middle of the fight: in the blink of an eye, you let go of the hilt of the sword, only to catch it below with your free hand.
And, as Vergil was distracted by watching where your sword was going, he didn’t see your dominant hand flying right to his face – hitting him with a well placed punch that made him stumble back; both in surprise and rage.
Those silvery eyes now carried that spark that you didn’t see in years, but also harbored a burning hatred and an outrage, that it seemed like you had just spat on his shoes and bit your thumb at him – on your very best Capulet spiteful behavior, awakening the indignation of your enemy Montague.
If Vergil didn’t know better, he would say you learned that move from Dante.
His chest stirred with a turmoil he didn’t feel in quite a while as soon as you let out a quick laugh – a fun one, sparkling with enjoyment – and turned your back to him; casually flexing your hand from the impact and going back to a fighting stance.
Vergil fixed his posture, properly getting back on his feet, raising his head in his arrogant stance he would never stop carrying.
“I see you’re savoring your little trick…” His comment was slowly paced, as Vergil always spoke with purpose. You looked back at him, holding your sword with your dominant hand again, having a smart smile on your lips and a piercing look in your eyes. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy myself either.”
“I did learn a thing or two while you were away, demon…” You couldn’t help the sparkling pride bubbling inside your chest, as you took a more confident stance – forgoing a bit of your defense. “Do your worst.”
Vergil had to smile as he narrowed his eyes: oh, wasn’t hubris always the sentiment that preceded a great fall?
He should know well, for it was the reason of his own – and now, it was like gazing into one of Mundus’ mocking mirrors; having him stare right back at the actions that caused his predicament in the first place.
He knew exactly what to do with you.
Running with that inhuman speed you only witnessed once, Vergil charged in with little consideration to your humanity – and your fragility, comparing to his demonic heritage. You managed to quickly dodge him, stepping away with skillfully trained steps; something Vergil didn’t quite expect.
But he was adapting. Fighting you was like a game of chess, and that meant he had to read your moves and make sure he was at least two steps ahead of you. With the time you’ve been apart, you had added an edge of viciousness to your gracefulness, and, apparently, a certain degree of unpredictability and different fighting styles – mixing moves you wouldn’t before; not remaining purely with sword-fighting.
He had to wonder where you got that from, but that was a question for another time. Vergil knew quite well focusing entirely on the battle at hand was the best way to stay ahead of your moves and, in a blink, he made sense of them. You were faster than before, yes, but not faster than him.
Vergil attacked with both the blade and the sheathe of his sword, barely giving you time to try to parry his attacks, only block. It was your turn to furrow your brows as you felt how stronger his attacks were – almost as if he was holding back before; and something stirred at the base of your stomach, telling you he wasn’t using his full strength yet. It was quite different than the times you fought at the edge of the Abyss, trying to stop each other – and you had to admit, he did grow more powerful after all those years you hadn’t seen him.
As he attacked you with his blade, you prepared to hold back the most powerful of his blows so far – making your arm immediately fly back with the violence of the impact; having you grip your sword for dear life as not to have it escape your hands and leave you helpless. Your eyes left his blade for a moment, quickly passing through his face – making you question if his teeth were elongated like fangs.
An amateur mistake, if you had to be honest with yourself, taking your eyes away from what really mattered: his weapons, his feet, his hands. You didn’t see his other hand coming for a quick, double-hit, follow up attack: holding the sheathe of the Yamato, he hit you with all his might on your torso; almost as if you were kicked by a horse.
The air on your lungs was violently ripped out, escaping your throat as you flew back in the air. The pain made it hard to breathe and you did your best to land on the floor with a little bit of dignity, sliding only on your feet and knees, breaking your fall with one of your hands while still holding tightly to your sword.
You needed some time to be able to take a deep breath – pain ebbing through your lungs as you felt the place in your torso that was hit by the sheathe of the sword reverberating in waves; in your muscles and through your insides.
Looking back at him, you could barely pick up a glance of a quick, conceited laugh – mirroring exactly what you had done moments before – only to be caught unguarded as the demon charged towards you in a blow that would be decisive; certainly ending with your defeat.
It was your turn to burn with outrage – after all, he knew you wouldn’t give up that easily; and it was quite bold of him to assume that fight would end there. In a matter of fact, it wasn’t bold, it was an act of arrogance.
You did tell him to do his worst.
You got yourself back on your feet, holding the hilt of your sword with one hand and the blade with the other, horizontally, right in front of yourself – and catching the piercing final blow Vergil had prepared with the Yamato.
Beautifully calculated, he had to give that to you. A precision he would expect only from his kin, sharing his demonic blood – which could be considered a feat for a human like you.
Pushing him back, you quickly plunged in for another attack, giving him little time to think – that could be an advantage, since he always seemed so focused and calculating. Vergil picked up your new strategy as fast as you picked his prior ones, defending your swift attacks and chaining his own counter-attacks whenever he could expertly fit them.
You did pay attention to his hands, though. After the double attack with the sheathe of his sword, you made sure you wouldn’t fall for that again – and you wanted him to not have that advantage anymore. Both of you were fighting with the same rage bubbling on your insides, and neither wanted to be the one to suffer the next hit.
Still paying attention to his hands, you noticed when he loosened his grip on the hilt of his sword just enough to have it swiftly moving in his hands in order to perfectly chain his attacks and leave you little room for breathing.
And so, you waited for the perfect moment. As soon as you attacked – with the intention of having him easily defend, Vergil answered with a counter-attack, giving you the opportunity you were looking for. The moment he slightly loosened his grip, you exerted yourself, pulling all your strength to swing your sword again a lot faster than you did before, to hit his blade with all your might and disarm your enemy.
Furrowing his brows, Vergil immediately noticed what you were doing and tried to change his move right in the middle of it – a gamble, and one he didn’t like to make: you fooled him into believing he knew your next steps and, once again, bet on the unexpected.
He was too used to battling his brother, though.
Tightening the grip and trying to change in a split second to a defensive stance, Vergil couldn’t do much other than try to put some more strength into his attack in order to disarm you – having your move backfire and leaving you unarmed.
As your blades clashed with a loud thunder, both of you quickly closed your eyes for a second as sparks exploded from the impact – and your arms recoiled from the ferocity of the blow; both Yamato and your silver sword spiraling in the skies, far away from your grips that couldn’t hold them down.
Quickly opening your eyes, you saw as your silver sword landed far away behind him; and Vergil witnessed as Yamato fell in the distance behind you.
Staring at each other, for the first time, you could read the same level of surprise in your eyes – almost as if both of you needed a second to process what had just happened.
The spark that made Vergil awaken from his moment of astonishment was one that fueled the indignation of realizing he was disarmed by a simple human, you for that matter, once again, even after all he had done for power; and you could say the same: a certain burn of anger made your jaw tighten upon noticing it was that demon who had disarmed you – something that shouldn’t have happened again.
To say both of your prides were bubbling inside your chests, fueling your viciousness and thirst for battle, was an understatement.
In spite of that, you weren’t keen on giving him an opening to take advantage of the now obvious power imbalance between you two – something he should do; and something demons always did.
For a second, you thanked Dante for gifting your silver pistol, so many moons ago. You thought you wouldn’t really have a use for it, but now, holding the once blue coated demon at gunpoint, you couldn’t be happier you were wrong.
“Bringing a gun to a sword fight. Tsk.” Vergil’s voice was dripping with contempt, trying to hide how you stirred even more of his outrage by resorting to shooting him. Just like his twin brother.
“It’s a guarantee.” Your answer was as sharp as the blade of your sword, forcing Vergil to look back into your eyes. “The likes of you don’t tend to play fair. I don’t see why I should.”
“Don’t compare me to scum.” His answer was almost a growl – and you could clearly see you hit a nerve. It made you wonder why, though, he wouldn’t like to be compared to other demons; after all, he was one. And a rather proud one, at that. “I am…” Quickly, though, he managed to at least bury that anger and go back to his usual voice tone – albeit with a hint of mocking, faintly seen as well on the corner of his lips. “Surprised you think so low of me.”
You furrowed your brows, resting a dry gaze on that demon. He wasn’t like other demons you had known through your life, and he knew that. You wouldn’t put so much effort into fighting him if you thought he was like the others you killed almost on a daily basis.
“Humpf.” You looked down to your pistol, almost shrugging in the process. That made Vergil watch you with intent – reading what was going to be your next move. Given his speed, he could probably dodge your bullets easily and you would only waste ammo. “This probably won’t be efficient in causing you damage anyway.”
Vergil couldn’t help but to slightly raise his brows as you tossed the pistol aside, completely disarming yourself. He could only make it fair and avoid using his summoned swords.
Barely giving him time to think his next attack, you resorted to the same thing you did when you both first fought the Hell Puppeteer: taking an offensive stance, you were now a lot more proficient in your martial arts training to land a perfect kick on his head – and you could bet he would never see it coming.
Unfortunately, Vergil was also having memories from that day: when you fought perfectly well together, bringing down an extinct demon from the depths of the Abyss, only to disarm each other as soon as the creature was no more.
And only to resort to fighting without your weapons.
He quickly deflected your attack, opting for a defensive stance during a few more attacks: Vergil wanted to know how much you had trained throughout those years and if you would be able to keep up with his pace without your sword – and he could only do that by observing.
You didn’t disappoint; and you knew quite well what he was doing. Almost as if to prove a point, you chained a set of moves with speed and carefully practiced technique.
Vergil was able to block all of them with the same swiftness, a warm wave spreading over his chest as he carried a faint smile on the corner of his lips. It was rather satisfying to see you had improved enough to still give him a good fight and to be considered a worthy opponent.
That ghost of a smile disappeared, though, when your hand scraped his right cheekbone, since he wasn’t so quick in dodging that attack. His predator gaze was back as he turned those silver eyes back to you – and it was almost as if that semblance of a smile transferred from his lips to yours.
But he wouldn’t let you carry it for long.
Switching from his defensive position to offensive, Vergil immediately counter-attacked with a kick; having you quickly change the balance on your legs so you could do your best to block his attack – leaving you with a sore calf. Just like before, Vergil wasn’t really holding back on his strength, knowing you could quite well take the fight and all its consequences.
His attacks were as swift as yours, testing how attuned your reflexes were and how much you could focus on that fight and on his movements without losing the awareness of your surroundings. Every kick, every punch, every move from his fists and his feet were matched by yours – and now, more than ever, it looked like you were both entangled in a dance of death, perfectly in sync.
He had to admit… It was a delight. One he didn’t know he missed after so many years of torture and survival.
And for a moment, Vergil’s movements faltered. For a split of a second you could see his eyebrows furrowing further and the expression of borderline enjoyment cracking from his face – almost as if something was slipping through the cracks of his own self he put on with so much pride.
What if all this was a dream…? One created by his own mind to help him remain… Endure. One elaborate almost reality, when his body was hurt to the point he couldn’t even feel his limbs anymore, when his pride had been violated and paraded for humiliation to the point he couldn’t open his eyes without weeping, when his hope was torn apart into pieces and tossed away along with his heart, to the point he forgot who he even was… Sometimes, it all felt like a dream.
As he faltered, his survival took over enough not to let him fall – and a faint breeze was enough to bring him back to the fight at hand; the slight coldness of the wind on his face, his feet balancing himself on the uneven pavement, the scent of flowers.
Vergil’s silvery eyes looked back to your face as his body kept on expertly answering to all your attacks; survival being the most automatic of instincts for him. But that was when he noticed his teeth taking the shape of fangs and his nails already elongated, almost like claws, which had managed to draw blood from one of your hands while you used them to defend yourself from one of his attacks.
Just like Eva. Human blood had a natural scent that could be compared to flowers; Vergil had arrived to that conclusion ever since he was a child. Eva was as the flowers in her garden, while demons reeked of the most vile of odors.
He hadn’t smelled that scent in years. So much so, that Vergil had forgotten how it was like.
In Hell, he had already grown accustomed to that smell of rot, blood and acre vinegar that permeated not only the place but its residents. For years, Vergil didn’t know what anything else smelled like, having known only that stench of death and decay – needless to say, being back in the human world was quite literally a breath of fresh air.
But your blood… That was a memory. Long forgotten, that he didn’t even know his mind still kept in a hidden place, buried deep inside with all the other things he had to smother to be able to survive. The memory was back, along with the scent of flowers… And that, no dream could recreate – and no demon could simulate in order to torture him even further with a false hope.
Only a human could carry those flowers.
With that, you managed to hit Vergil’s face, having him stumble back a little bit. The demon immediately furrowed his brows, this time in confusion, only to slowly take his thumb up to his mouth and run it over his lower lip – finding he did wipe some blood that you managed to draw from him.
“We’re even.” You slightly waved your bleeding hand as soon as that predator gaze went from his blood to your form – still, you had an almost nonchalant air to your words.
“Hmmm.” And, to your surprise, you could even call that a giggle, as Vergil fixed his posture and ignored the blood on his hands, in order to swipe back the strands of hair that were already falling over his face.
Something about that made your blood boil. As if, so far, he hadn’t put that much effort in your fight – arrogantly fixing his hair even if you had just managed to make him bleed.
You would never entertain the possibility that you had mistaken his amusement for arrogance.
Without thinking twice, you would make sure his hair would come down for good: placing a swift kick to his torso, Vergil lost his balance for a split second and that was enough for you to knock him down; and that took him by surprise.
You used all your weight to wrap your arms around his waist and bring him down with you – and, when Vergil finally understood what happened, he was already on the floor; with you on top of him, holding him down with your legs and ready to hit him with a series of swift punches.
You had Nero to thank for teaching you that move.
More dumbfounded than Vergil, that would be Dante. He had barely reached the street to catch up to his brother, after helping the crew contain a few more demons, only to find you grabbing Vergil wrestling-style and pinning him down on the floor; straddling him right after and ready to punch Vergil until he couldn’t contain his anger anymore.
“What the…” Dante had to stop in his tracks and watch that scene unfolding right before his eyes – and he couldn’t help but remember the first time he met Nero in Fortuna. How the kid pinned him down on the floor the same way and almost made him trigger with how much he relentlessly punched Dante.
Vergil didn’t allow you to land a single punch, though; immediately holding your arms as soon as he noticed your intentions – and as soon as he managed to wake up from his sudden stupor of surprise. Using more of his demonic strength, Vergil tossed you aside as if you didn’t weight more than a bag of candies.
It was the first time he used that kind of strength on you – and the first time you could have an idea of how much he was holding back in order not to cause you any serious injuries. As you slid on the pavement by his side, it suddenly hit you how that demon could have ended you with the flick of a finger if he didn’t have any warrior’s honor.
His shadow towering over you made you snap out of that thought – realizing he had all intention to pin you down as you did with him seconds prior; and, given his strength, you wouldn’t be able to escape his grip even if you fought with all your might. Kicking his torso once again to create some distance, you quickly brought yourself back to your feet; even if you stumbled a little.
You couldn’t win on a fistfight, he had just made that very clear. All this time, it was as if he was indulging you; which only made you grit your teeth. Just when you thought that demon couldn’t get anymore insufferable.
Vergil could read in your eyes that realization of yours, and if he was any good at reading your next steps, the next thing you would do was reach for your silver pistol near your feet.
But of course, you would never do what he expected of you.
Bullets against that demon would be a waste, you still knew that. The best course of action wasn’t to reach for your gun, but for a sword – after all, that seemed to be the only thing that could take him down.
The only problem was that Vergil was still standing between you and your silver sword… So, you swiftly reached for the sword nearby; the one quietly awaiting behind you, watching that dance of death you two seemed to enjoy having engaged in.
And when he realized what you were doing, Vergil widened his eyes and furrowed his brows; that being the last thing he would have expected of you.
Having your fingers around its hilt, you felt the weight of the Yamato for the first time. It was light for its size, but still heavy for a sword of that type – you couldn’t have expected less, since, from what you had observed, it was longer than a traditional sword.
It was just about the size of your silver sword, though, making you only feel slightly strange about the shape and balance. You didn’t grab the sheathe and opted for holding the hilt with both of your hands, since you were used to fighting only with your blade and not a dual wield.
“Huh.” Vergil immediately turned around, scoffing as he made it very obvious he was giving you his back – an act of arrogance, showing you weren’t that much of a threat to him. It was also to avoid having you meet the look of pure offense and anger in his eyes, now that you had Yamato in your hands because he had lost its grip. Again.
As you fixed your posture, already going into a fighting stance, Vergil walked over to your silver sword – and you couldn’t help but to feel your chest tightening. It was your sword, made-to-order by the Guard to be perfect only to your hands, and no one else aside from you had wielded it – not even Dante.
And there he was. That once blue coated demon, taking your sword in his hands; his fingers wrapping around the hilt and lifting it as if it was made of silk.
You wondered for a second if he had felt the same outrage when you lifted his sword from the floor.
Vergil did find the weight of your blade quite strange – lighter, so that a human like you could easily handle it, but no less deadlier than other swords. It was sharp and well cared for, embellished with a few golden motifs that reminded him of water. It was more than just a well cared for sword, and your appreciation for it showed.
Turning back around, Vergil found you ready to fight, gazing intently at the sword in his hands – and something inside him was strangely thankful you were as annoyed as he was to have your sword being held, and about to be wielded, by your archenemy.
“Oh, that’s not good…” Dante shook his head, watching as if you two were about to rip each other to pieces. “Time to put ‘em on time out.”
“Still want me to do my worst…?” Vergil’s taunt came with a faint smile teasing on the corner of his lips, predator eyes ready to pierce through you.
If you couldn’t control your feelings so expertly, you would have charged in to strip that smile away from him with your bare fists.
“Hmmm.” Although, you couldn’t help but smile back, mirroring his stare and immediately releasing that rage in your heart to charge in. Vergil didn’t take even a second to do the same.
“Oh, c’mon, Vergil…” Dante rolled his eyes, instantly running towards you both as soon as you charged towards each other.
He did wonder, though, if Vergil would ever give him a break.