So, instead of working on the chapters I should be, I got distracted by the DMC3 Prequel Manga and skipped ahead. Here's a big chunk as a sorry and a teaser!
"Holy fuck that sucked!" Dante groaned tiredly as he and Vergil watched the recently inserted gems (taken from guts of defeated demons) glow like sickly suns, the stones they were embedded in pulling apart to reveal a wall of intricate, iron latticework. The latticework in turn rose like a portcullis, allowing them to step inside a previously hidden alcove. Glowing gold before them was a statue of a lioness-headed woman holding a large hourglass above her head. Vergil stepped closer, intrigued.
This looked like depictions he'd seen of Divinity Statues, which were theoretically the likenesses of some goddess called the Watcher of Time. He'd heard more than one devil used her name like sapiens used their own deity's name as an expletive. Just as with the sapiens, Vergil hadn't understood why they bothered, but feeling the power radiating from the statue—power that was incongruous with their surroundings, filling the air with a sense of calm—he thought he could see why even devils would revere such a thing. He also now understood why Mundus had banned the statues from his palaces. He would never have allowed the competition.
"She's kinda pretty. Ya know, for a furry."
Vergil decided to not tell Dante any of the Underworld's profanity regarding this being. If anyone had the bad luck to draw the ire of a god, it would be Dante and his careless tongue.
"I don't understand what this creature has to do with Father's seal. Is just unlocking her enough?" Stepping forward again, he reached out to the Watcher.
Before he could touch her, the floor vanished from beneath their feet and they fell into darkness.
Despite the surprise, they managed to keep their feet under them, though they landed heavily on the unseen ground.
"This also sucks," Dante grumbled into the darkness. Their only light above had been provided by a single emergency lantern, and then by the soft glow of the Divinity Statue, which was now far above them, distant as a star. Even their night vision had trouble piercing the supernatural gloom in the seal vaults and this new location was no exception. "I can't see a thing." Reaching into a pocket, Dante brought out a white glow stick, snapped it, and dropped it. It wasn't much, but it was all they needed to reveal that they stood on a circular island of stone rising up from a mass of human and demon skulls. The skulls bobbed like bleached apples in an ocean of putrid blood. "Oh, yuck. Why is our life a B-grade horror movie?"
"I wish I knew," he murmured, stepping to put his back to Dante's, the Yamato held ready. He could feel his brother's heart pounding against his back, even with the Force Edge between them. "Steady, Dante."
"I am steady," Dante snapped. "Can't you feel it?" He had started shaking. "It's so hot, and my… my core. It feels like it's trying to boil my blood. Vergil… What's going on?"
Vergil turned, moving to support his twin, only to realize that his hands had Triggered. There was a sensation of heat in his veins, but not unpleasantly so. If anything, it was invigorating. He felt like he was taking a deep breath of fresh air after months of near suffocation. Dante was starting to Trigger as well, a slow shift of his body rather than their usual instantaneous flash. Unlike Vergil, however, he was in obvious pain. He staggered, then went down on one knee, the Rebellion's tip dug into the stone as he braced against her, panting heavily.
"There must be an incredibly high concentration of infernal magic here," Vergil thought as he crouched, newly manifested wings mantling protectively over his twin. "I'm not affected as badly because I lived in the Underworld most of my life, so this… this is my normal." He had missed feeling like this. Feeling strong, like he could fly and fight forever. Aloud, he said, "Breathe, Dante. For once in your life, stop fighting and let it happen."
Dante groaned and was about to say something, but they were both interrupted.
-SPARDA!-
The weight of the word, of the Name, hit them like a sack of stones, driving them down in a heap. On Vergil's back, the Force Edge hissed a warning. He felt its power coming to the surface like some great leviathan rising from the depths in response to this new presence.
-We've Awaited This Day!-
The world around them lit up. It was not as if someone had flipped on a light switch, but more like a deep fog had finally lifted. Dante's eyes went big and round as tea saucers, mouth falling open, and Vergil knew he wasn't much better. A statue of a winged woman on her knees towered above them, as big as Matteo's beloved church. One arm had crumbled, its form was riddled with cracks, and it had no head… and it was alive. Alive, yet not. Frozen between life and death, then bound there.
Dante looked over his shoulder and swallowed hard. Vergil looked too, tensing upon seeing the upside down head partially sunk in the lake of skulls. It—she?—was beautiful in appearance, though he knew better than to judge by such things.
The closed eyes of the statue began to weep blood.
-For Eons We Have Stood As A Seal. Oh Humiliating Ages, Our Days Spent In Remorse. Betrayed By You, Ourselves Have Been Shamed. Yet We Continued To Wait For Your Return. Two-Thousand Years. How Can We Convey To You Our Suffering? Sparda… I Recognize Your Scent, Though I Cannot See You.-
Dante, growling now, gripped his sword anew and used it to drag himself back up to a crouch. As he did, he cut himself on the Rebellion's horns, blood trickling down the blade. Not about to let his twin outdo him, Vergil forced himself back to his feet, though he felt like he was dragging a stone up with him. So great was the effort that he didn't notice the statue's mouth curve into a smile, revealing fangs.
-Oh Sparda… How Nostalgic Your Blood Is! How Delectable. …Even After Two Millennia… This Taste… It's Still How I Remember It.-
Cursing softly, Albus dialed the number on the card. The phone rang six times before it was answered.
"Lady here, and something had better be about to eat you or I'll hunt you down myself," a feminine voice answered, sounding severely annoyed. Albus had met Lady only once, about five months ago, when he'd called on her services (as Dante had unfortunately been out of town at the time.) The job had not gone well, though he had to admit she'd been extremely… effective. Rather like how a sledgehammer was effective at squishing cockroaches.
"Hello, Miss Lady, this is Albus Haas," he said, and was cut off by a groan of exasperation before he could explain further.
"Look, Haas, I told you that property damage is inevitable when dealing with demons. I took ten percent off my bill, didn't I? If you want more than that, get a lawyer! And don't call me at this number again. This is my business line, not the complaint center!"
He gritted his teeth. The hedge animals she'd destroyed were worth far more than her so-called discount. Not important, he reminded himself. "I'm not calling about that. I'm calling about Dante."
Silence, then an urgent, "Where's Nero?! Is he safe? What happened?"
So she knew about the baby, and cared. That was very good to hear. "I have him, he's safe. Dante came to do a job at my school and I offered to watch Nero while he worked. Some demons tried to attack us, but Dante…" Albus's mind flashed back to that red monster. Devil, said the same part of him that had identified the hags. "Dante stopped them and we ran, but he… he changed."
"Fuck!" she hissed. "Of all the times for him to— Look, I'm out on a job, going to be tied up for at least another day, so I can't come over there right now. Where's Dante at?"
"He's—" Albus started, then stopped, muscles tightening with fear as the shop bell rang. It was Dante, absolutely drenched in blood, eyes still glowing like molten metal. His lips peeled back, exposing fangs, as those inhuman eyes focused first on the petrified teen behind the counter, then on Albus, and finally on Nero. Swallowing hard, Albus whispered, "He's here."
Frowning, Vergil folded his arms. "Do be careful. Such a dreadful temper, and clumsy too. How Mundus tolerates you as a candidate for heir-apparent I will never know." Oh, it felt so good to be able to say that at last! No wonder Dante was always running his mouth, insulting enemies left and right. It was fun!
"Insolent mongrel! Filthy bit of tainted blood! Unwanted spawn of traitors and kine!"
Vergil inspected his nails and ignored the threat and the insults. He'd heard worse.
"I will drag your worthless carcass before the Black Throne, just for the pleasure of having a prime seat to watch the Emperor skin you like the traitor you are!"
Though he'd never say or show it, this threat did send a chill down Vergil's spine.
Despite his millenias-long reign, there were always a few devils who thought that, just because it had been a few thousand years since Mundus ate the Qliphoth fruit, he had grown weak. These attempted coups always had the same result: the brutal execution of all involved, and the lingering death of the leader. Currently, Mundus favored flaying traitors alive, layer by layer, until there was nothing left but bones, connective tissue, eyes, a heart, and the brain—enough to walk around and do simple tasks. Then he'd have the wretch serve at table until the poor creature ran out of magic and even Mundus's commands could no longer animate it. It was a horrific way to die, even by demonic standards. The latest victim lasted a mere six months, but only because Vergil had put her out of her misery before he left the Underworld for the last time.
"are you man enough..." but it's dante's devil side fighting tooth and nail to check/care for his brother's nestling and LOSING to dante's guilt of having killed the said brother that has been crushing dante for years now.
( I watched too many edits on the audio. my insta feed is just a loop of pain in any and every fandom I'm in. )
Hey! Sorry it took so long to reply!
Yeah, poor Dante! Oh it kills me to think about it!😭
We know he was in a horrible state after DMC1, and seeing Nero must've been both the most wonderful thing in the world, and the most horrible. Because he would want so badly to be close to Nero, but be too terrified to try, because he believes that anyone he gets close to will end up dead. He even keeps his closest friends at a distance out of fear for their safety.
It'd be cool to one day see a fic where Dante's devil side wins and he can't help but rush over to check on Nero, and he then gets caught 🥰
It was very easy to believe that Vergil could destroy a whole human army by himself, especially when he smiled like that.
By the sheen of sweat on Thompson's face, Brendan's sergeant felt the same way. For Brendan's part, he didn't dare take his eyes off Vergil to see if the rest of the room was afraid too. It would be like looking away from a shark.
"Is Dante in danger?" he asked instead, voice quiet. If there was one subject that might get Vergil talking, it was this, and Brendan got the feeling that they needed to know what the heck was going on with Dante at least. That flash of rage and power was very unlike the man Brendan had met before. If Dante ever decided to turn that strength again humanity… They needed to prevent that. Vergil loved his little brother with a fierce dedication that made Brendan feel like a slacker in regards to his own siblings, and any implication that he wasn't taking care of Dante would be a slap to his considerable pride.
Vergil's smile vanished into a frown, though he still didn't look away from Dante. For a moment, it didn't seem like he'd answer, then he let out a huff. "No. Not physically, anyway. In fact, I hope that this will help prevent harm in the future." Sensing Brendan and Thompson's pointed stares, he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, very well," he grumbled, folding his arms like a petulant toddler.
"Devils are territorial. How territorial depends on the individual, but the trait is universal. Territoriality can also extend to the weaker beings who directly serve a devil as well. Usually, it is a case of exchange between master and servitor, power or protection in exchange for service, but sometimes, it's more like pets, and the devil is fond of something because it brings them pleasure. Dante…" he sighed softly, "Dante is very territorial. You saw how fiercely he defended you when you fought under his command, and he even came to help when you called, but you are not quite his the way another demon might be." A mirthless smile replaced the frown. "Which is a pity, for he is bound to be a kind and devoted master. He would treat you well, and you would gain power through him. But you, and the others here on Earth, are human. You don't have the right… programming? Is that the term? You lack the genetic and magical composition to truly bind yourself to the service of a devil without a ritual pact. Samhain does not. It's best Dante learns to deal with his instincts in a controlled environment, and with an expendable creature."
"So you're using us," Colonel Armstrong broke in, his voice hoarse and slightly shaky, despite an attempt at his usual blustery tone. Even the crowd of officers and agents, unable to see Vergil's face, had sensed the shift of energies and were rightfully wary.
"Of course," Vergil replied airily. "Just as you're using us. Don't be offended that I don't believe in charity."
Brendan finally tore his eyes away from Vergil to watch Dante instead. The red devil was still crouched in front of Samhain, talking quietly. As Brendan watched, he stood, smiling, and offered his hand.
"Ah, how like him," Vergil chuckled. "To refuse Samhain's heartfelt plea to enter into service despite our tainted bloodline, and instead offer friendship, as if they were equals. My dear little brother, always surprising me. And just when I thought I'd found something demonic he couldn't deny himself." He sounded so very fond of Dante, as if Dante had an adorably exasperating habit of picking up stray animals to foster or singing loudly in the shower.
Again, goosebumps prickled across Brendan's skin. This was definitely a side of Vergil he didn't like.
Chapter 1: Come Not Within the Measure of my Wrath
Summary:
It's been months since Dante lost a brother and found a nephew. Still dealing with the aftermath of the Temen-ni-gru and struggling to raise a rambunctious Nero on his own, he's fighting just to keep his head above water. When a demon hunt goes awry and accidentally exposes his supernatural nature to a long-time client, Dante expects only the worst. Instead, he's offered a helping hand up-- the first of many, and Dante finds out he might not have to be as alone as he always believed. Maybe... Maybe, just for once, karma might be willing to give him a break. After all, one good turn deserves another...
Excerpt:
“Thank you so much for coming, Dante,” Headmaster Albus Haas said as Dante climbed out of his beat-up car. He frowned in concern as the young man wobbled. “Are you alright?”
Dante gave him a smile, running fingers through his messy hair, the smile turning to a grimace as he encountered tangles. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Haven’t had a straight eight hours shut-eye in awhile.”
Albus’s worry grew. He never liked calling in Dante. Even though the young man was always thorough, effective, and polite, the fact remained that he was a very young man indeed to be in such a dangerous profession. “Will it be safe for you to investigate tonight?”
Dante waved off his concern. “It’s cool. By the sound of it, it’s just a run of the mill bogey, maybe a plasma, though I doubt that. Done harder jobs on waaaay less sleep.” Going first to the trunk, he armed up with his giant sword and his twin pistols, plus a bag of tricks he claimed covered a wide range of supernatural nasties. Then he opened the back door of his car and pulled out… a baby carrier.
Albus’s jaw dropped as the demon hunter smiled down at the little white-haired baby, who cooed and reached for him. “Hey buddy, you awake again already? Man, I kinda hoped you’d stay down awhile longer, but you probably smelled a hunt about to start, huh?” Reaching down, he let the baby catch his finger, smile turning into a fond grin. "Too much nighttime in your blood."
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Albus stepped closer the pair to get a better look. With the eyes of a man used to assessing parents and children alike, he saw how Dante noticed his approach and angled his body to protect the child, even from a known associate. “Is he yours?” Albus asked, keeping his voice gentle and friendly, smiling at the baby.
Dante relaxed and allowed Albus a better look, sounding a little wistful as he said, “I wish." Clearing his throat, he added, "He's actually my nephew.” Dante’s smile was brilliant, his expression one of absolute adoration. “His name’s Nero. Ain’t he super cute?”
Summary: Vergil is forced to fight his brother in order to force him out of his unstable Sin Devil Trigger. Things do not go well.
Excerpt:
Vergil forced himself to calm down and remember the lessons taught to him by his demonic guardians, Baul and Modeus, who had (for once) both emphasized learning to think during high-pressure situations, be they battles or disasters. It was a skill, and one Vergil had cultivated. Just because it was his twin in dire trouble didn't mean he could forget how to think. If fact, because it was his twin in danger, Vergil needed his wits about him more than ever.
Point One: Dante was dying. His body needed fuel, which he could get by eating the dead humans, but that would take time they no longer had.
Point Two: They had to escape immediately. Vergil could facilitate that via portal, so escape itself was not an issue, but getting Dante to leave his nutrient rich dinner was.
The easiest solution would be for Dante to drop his distorted Trigger, which would allow him to stabilize, but there was no way to communicate that to his twin. So, the next solution would be to tempt Dante away from his food with something better.
Something like a half-demon, rich with infernal magic and human blood.
Vergil began sweating for a reason other than the increasing heat. Oh, this could go wrong in so many ways, the first and most pressing being eaten by his little brother.
In the aftermath of witnessing Dante's secret, Albus Haas finds out even more about the young devil hunter, the first of which is that Dante is hurt. Unwilling to let Dante and Nero suffer through on their own, Albus takes the pair to his home to recover.
Excerpt:
"Loooong fuckin' day, hmm, kiddo?" Dante asked Nero, voice slurring with tiredness. Nero whimpered, then chirped loudly. Dante winced. "Come on, kid, not s'loud. Head hurts." Nero chirped again, and they could see his arms waving demandingly from his improvised crib. Dante smiled down at his nephew, exhaustion, exasperation, and fondness all warring across his features. "Jus' wanted down, now y' want up again? Fightin' the sandman's a losin' game, ya know? 'specially after such a big day." Nero burbled and Dante sighed. "You're going to make me break out the big guns, aren't you, squirt? Alright, you asked for it."
Gently, he tossed the edge of his coat over Nero's face to block his view, and in that moment, Dante changed. His posture shifted to a more upright stance, shoulders back, feet planted solidly. He ran a hand through his hair, sweeping it back from his face, and his expression smoothed out to a determined calm. Such simple changes, but with them, Dante had become a completely different person. Even his smile when he pulled the coat away from Nero was new: smaller, more restrained, though no less gentle or loving. The illusion was complete when he lifted his nephew, cradling him close, and spoke, his voice now a slightly higher tenor with a breathy emphasis on the vowels,
