Devil May Cry © Capcom

De Monarchia

Jason M. Lee

Pain.

So much PAIN.

It was like his entire body was an inferno.

He couldn't tell if he was screaming.

The power was like a flood, yet it wasn't completely overwhelming him.

He could feel his blood boiling, roaring in his ears that he wasn't sure was there anymore.

And yet...

Something...

"Power...! Give me more... power!"

A call.

Something was responding.

Something was coming.

The flood didn't taper, but he could feel something within him consume the uncontrolled flow.

Yet the boiling didn't stop.

More screaming.

Or was it still him screaming?

At the moment, all he wanted was out.

Out to where?

Safety.

Someone someplacesafesafefamiliar...

-3-1-2-4-5-

Credo cursed uncharacteristically loudly, beating his wing as fast as possible in an attempt to catch up to Nero. The younger knight had been on a rampage ever since waking up from the Ascension Ceremony, and he was barely catching up.

The unexpected release of demonic energy from the bed had sent anyone within the vicinity flying and crashing into the walls or furniture - no one had expected Nero's body to start absorbing more than what was supposed to be safe enough to complete the process. Agnus, the proud fool, had screeched and was stuttering about his research being destroyed when a batch of papers landed in the fireplace while the rest had been scattered about in the wake of the explosion. Before Credo could even admonish the Chief Alchemist on scrambling for his notes, the blade of Red Queen with the Exceed activated had found her mark through Agnus's chest, startling both Order members. The Supreme General had been expecting an angelic form similar to his, except what he saw of Nero all but shocked him.

The crackling blue aura that surrounded the young man did nothing to hide the more demonic features, asymmetrical fins protruding from his shoulders, nor the red and blue pattern on his chest that had matched his vest and coat. The strange long protrusion above his left wrist didn't seem to hinder his ability to wield Red Queen, to which Nero had easily swung his arm that shook Agnus off of the customized sword, sending the Chief Alchemist crashing into several deactivated Angelos. (Credo bid the arrogant fool a none-too-fond farewell when one of the lances coincidentally pierced Agnus again, this time right through the heart.) Every so often, he could catch wings twitching above Nero's torso, as if the newly ascended knight wasn't sure how to use the appendages properly. When one of the other high rankings knights, not an Angelo, charged at Nero, Credo had been startled by the blue glow that flashed from Nero's right hand before he simply crushed the knight's helmet with ease. If the red covering could be called a hood with two white horns arching over, Credo did not doubt that the single glowing gold eye not hidden would be projecting death - snarling fangs did that well enough.

(The boy's distinct silver-white hair had given him some hints, so Credo briefly wondered if his foster brother truly did "ascend"... He doubted he'd be able to forget the human screaming that had morphed into demonic roaring.)

Credo barely remembered hearing Sanctus gleefully crowing in regards to the Project, focusing on trying not to be another target by scooting about the rubble and waiting for his ringing ears to reset, the older man loudly claiming how salvation was within their grasp now as he walked towards Nero. Credo could also barely remember seeing Nero simply tilting his head to the side, as if curious at the being in front of him, before immediately attacking the Vicar with incredible force that even though Sanctus had transformed into his ascended form, the Vicar's arms was trembling on struggling to keep a hold on the Sword of Sparda, blocking Red Queen. Before either older Order members could blink, Nero twisted Red Queen and his body in such a way that Credo had recognized was something of his own sword style, where just as Nero swung, he activated the Exceed and at the same time Credo saw a flow of energy being channeled into the strike. The following flames had set several other members on fire, or a deep slash upon those unlucky enough to had gotten close on attempting to back up Sanctus. What followed up was Nero grabbing Sanctus by his head and slamming him on the floor multiple times, hard enough for the stone to start cratering before Sanctus was tossed away like so much a rag doll. The members that had ignored the fire were met with similar and grisly fates.

Whether it be coincidence or by providence or some combination of both, Credo was amazed that he was able to hear the barest of whistling of something flying through the air over the chaos, sharp, like cutting the very air itself. Human-trained and barely familiar demonic instincts had him dodging at the last second. Gloved hands desperately wanted to unsheathe his own Durandal, but upon seeing and sensing what had been within millimeters of taking off his head made him reconsider it. The crumbling hole on the floor was another good indicator.

Yamato - gleaming yet having that sense of darkness, as if cutting what light sources that hadn't been destroyed, whole - had honed into Nero's right hand. The lone eye studied the elegantly forged blade, almost like it was the center of his world for just that brief moment, before he sheathed the sword into the protrusion above his left wrist. Suddenly, Nero had jerked his head sharply, as if hearing or responding to something Credo couldn't detect before the young transformed knight bolted out of the chamber, barreling through the arriving backup with nary a care.

While he did had some respect at Agnus's less... unsavory work, Credo had to wonder if the Vicar's acquired regeneration from the ceremony would be enough. At the moment, he had an unrestrained foster brother to chase after, hastily shouting instructions behind him to whoever was still alive to tend to the injured. Just before leaving, he spotted Blue Rose among the rubble of stone and carpet, and snatched it up. He might find firearms distasteful, but he wouldn't deny Nero's style and effectiveness on utilizing it. The gun was still his weapon, something that Nero had worked hard on, a part of him.

The warpath through Mitis Forest had resulted in a trail of decimated flora and demons, some of the uprooted trees having been flung at the Chimeras and Scarecrows, mixed with large clean-cut gashes (Yamato) or things burning while being put out by the rain (Red Queen). Every once in a while, he could see the dissipating remains of a Mephisto's claws sticking out from branches, or a shredded Faust's hat dangling from a branch. Shattered shields from Assaults foolish enough to attack also lay scattered throughout the forest floor, their broken and twitching bodies not far. (He actually had to pause and blink at the uprooted Fault that looked like it was used as a topper for a Winter Sol tree.) Credo morosely thought to himself glad that Fortuna relied on fishing and tourism as its primary means of economy instead of forestry - he didn't even want to think about the reactions from the silvologists, foresters, and botanists if they ever learned how the damage was done.

'What in the Savior's Name were you thinking?!' the Supreme General swore to himself, dodging a stalactite and deciding to continue on foot would be more prudent due to the confined spaces as he followed the ever growing trail of dead bodies into the castle. It was to recover some demonic energy as well from pushing his flying so hard, in spite of consuming a Devil Star and wincing at the taste - he still couldn't get used to also eating the container, even though it wasn't that different than crunching on an ice cube. Even with a stronger body, there was still no getting away from that familiar stitch in his side.

'You should've stopped Nero from participating, never mind Agnus's assistants! Bah, spilled milk. Focus, damage control right now. He's reacting like an wild animal, yet he still retains some logical thinking. From what we know of demons, their first instinct after being severely hurt is to find a safe place to recover.' He sidestepped a Basilisk's fiery skull, calling forth several Summoned Spears to take care of the artificial Hellhounds and the Mega Scarecrows approaching him. 'Nero might not be injured per se, but that influx of energy had not been pleasant, to say the least the sheer amount - he had always been a bit more sensitive to these things, come to think of it. Where would he consider a place safe to him? Humans are also creatures of habit, so we tend to gravitate towards the famili-'

Credo was sure that were Mother still alive, she'd be washing his mouth with all the soap on the island if she heard the flow of curse words streaming from him. Probably wouldn't even care if he was in his Angelo form, at that.

(A traitorous part of him - not for the first time - whispered whether the Project was such a really good idea, pointing out how would Kyrie react if she ever found out. It also noted how he had stopped referring the Vicar as "His Holiness" with much respect.)

The trail hadn't ceased at all, and the pile of bodies - many of the third-tier echelon that he recognized, the various Frosts and Basilisks, and shards of Biancos - wasn't helping much of his nerves. He worried that Nero might not be able to tell foe from friend, given the amount of damages also caused to the surroundings, from an Alto being shoved halfway - halfway! - through a stone wall to the blade of a Scarecrow pinning a dying Basilisk on the ceiling. While Credo was sure that the surviving librarians were going to have apoplectic fits on the ruined library, he hoped that the alchemists wouldn't mind the missing Anima Mercury. Now that he thought about it, some of the demonic vines and thorns back in Mitis Forest looked withered instead of being burned or cut. And then there was that body of the giant demonic toad with what appeared to be a missing antennae in the courtyard...

He sent a wordless prayer to the Savior for better winds in that he wouldn't be too late to stop Nero from causing any undue harm.

Overhead, thunder rumbled as the rain began to intensify.

-3-1-2-4-5-

Quietly tsking, Dante simply shook his head as he took in the chaos in front of him. Broken furniture, smashed windows, scattered empty armor, and bodies being either carried away, ever slowly regenerating from stolen power, or those cooling because it was too late.

'Guess I should've moved my ass a bit faster... Lady's gonna yell at me again. But that kid... Definitely Verge's, if that arm sheath and Yamato's reaction is anything to go by.'

A sigh slipped from him as he absently scratched his stubble, still hiding in his niche among the shadows. For once, he praised Lady Luck on having him be in the same place as the kid was when the Ceremony had gone underway. The kid Triggering had also caused him to briefly Trigger again in response, but he was able to tamp it down quickly before any of the Order members could detect him (not that it mattered, given the massive discharge of demon energy). Don't need to waste this crazy trip. So far, the intel Lady and Morrison had given him was correct on the Order's activities.

It was Lady coming back home by kicking their doors in that had started this little jaunt, startling their nestling in the process. She hadn't done that since they had hitched up, and he knew she had to be rather ticked off at something to do so. Even Trish had raised an eyebrow at that.

"There's this 'Order of the Sword' congregation from Fortuna that's been running about, collecting Devil Arms from about every shop they could get their hands on, even the more sleazier brokers." Lady rubbed the bridge of her nose, apologetically patting Cato's head when he snuggled up to her after she removed her weaponry and dropped onto the sofa. "Some of the agents I spoke to said they were a weird bunch."

"Weirder than us, the Vie di Marli, or those we work with on a daily basis?" Trish asked, lifting her bottle for a sip.

"'Weird' in the sense that apparently they worship Sparda as the 'Savior' at their home island."

Trish paused just before her lips touched glass, blinked, and proceeded to scrutinize the label more closely. Cato simply boggled, being told the more factual stories of his infamous grandfather.

Dante wasn't sure whether to keel over laughing hysterically or be baffled at the concept of his father, formerly one of the most powerful devils known, being worshiped as a god. The nearby park with that statue that was supposed to be Sparda on horseback was creepy enough as it was - even Cato didn't like it. Back on Mallet Island, he had found journals indicating some of the castle residents tended to be a bit too prayer-happy towards Mundus's statue disguise in the main hall. "So what has you looking ready to take on a platoon with all of my Devil Arms? Sounds like they're basically starting a museum."

"They've been encroaching in other hunters' jobs, from what Morrison heard through the grapevines and those I've run into. Lately they've started poaching a few of mine as well, even butting in when I'm right in the middle of them. Except they don't always kill the demons, but try to capture them alive." She pursed her lips, as if thinking of an unpleasant memory.

Cato caught on to the slight change in her mood. "Mom?"

Lady shook her head, although she did drop a kiss on top of silver-white hair. "Something about them is really off, more than just the Sparda-worshiping aspect. And don't even joke about them also starting up a demon zoo, Dante. I just can't put my finger on it, but for whatever reason I'm reminded of that crazy CEO you encountered, Dante. The accumulated numbers of both Devil Arms and demons I've been hearing aren't exactly reassuring."

"Great, as if I need another trip through Hell because people really want that dumb proverbial 'crown' to control either worlds," he muttered, having been busily scribbling away notes. "Got any ideas on how to tackle this?"

"Well, they are searching for Devil Arms, so may-"

"Uh, Dad, Mom?" Cato noticed that one adult was missing and as he walked towards the kitchen to double check, he realized why. "I think Aunt Trish had the same idea."

Both adults rushed to look and instead of Sparda hanging at its usual place, a note written in lipstick was there instead.

'See you there.'

Yet the rumors from Enzo proved to be far more closer to home when it came to talking about the experiments hidden below the Order's headquarters.

He's seen a lot of things over the years, but the science rooms was climbing to the top in terms of sheer wrongness. His devil was gnashing its teeth in offense, wanting to get rid of the wrongness before him.

Even though he had wanted to spare those floating in the tubes, to let them have a chance at living, he couldn't - the various notes indicated gradual deterioration of both mind and soul, even though the body appeared to had strengthened. Reversal was impossible, and any attempts to do so had resulted in death. The detached clinical tone and coldness of the words on the papers had him ripping up the papers in a red-hot fury, almost wishing that he had brought along Ifrit, hell, even Agni. (He was going have to ask a demolitions expert on how to bring the place down completely, but maybe enough of Lucifer's swords in the right places plus Pandora's more explosive forms could do the trick.)

Those he encountered in the prison cells were barely better off, almost all of them begging with their eyes as soon as they saw him, bodies caught miserably in various agonizing stages between human and demon. One even prayed something that sounded like a feverish "Savior deliver us" repeatedly, causing no shortage of discomfort within him. More paperwork showed the same issue as those in the tubes - their minds just weren't able to handle the influx of demonic power, nor their bodies could assimilate it well enough.

Further searching through drawers and shelves hinted at future experiments, to "reuse the resources that should not go to waste in order to achieve the divine goal."

The small whisper of an extremely grateful "thank you" from the last one did little to ease the pain in his own heart as he pulled Ivory's trigger. About the closest consolation he allowed himself was that he at least gave them a more dignified death with what remained of their human mind intact.

Scanning the room, icy blue eyes narrowed when he couldn't see the old geezer, or his old man's sword. In spite of the red carpeting, he was able to make out one particular blood trail leading away from the mess, missed by the others scrambling about. Banking on human nature of tunnel-vision in these situations (because ill-gotten acquired demon instincts would still take months to train), Dante slipped past the throng of people, cheating a bit with Quicksilver at certain points.

Dante wasn't surprised when he caught up to Sanctus in one of the many secret passages that lead to what looked like a large office, extravagantly decorated with many furnishings, a few rather garish ones in his opinion. Some pieces on display he even recognized as trophies made from devil parts.

"Ah... The Second Son of Sparda..." Ichor dripped from his mouth as the Vicar coughed, further staining his white robes. Sparda was leaning on the desk within reach. "Come to reclaim your noble father's sword? Or to reclaim Yamato?"

"Part of me wants to ask 'what the absolute hell were you guys thinking', but I think that'd be pointless and the more accurate question would've been 'what the absolute hell weren't you guys thinking' instead." Dante slowly paced about the room, partly taking note of the binders and books on the shelves while still keeping a sense on Sanctus. "I'll admit, some kudos on the statue at the opera house, although a lot of details are still off. But I'm seriously docking points for the statue out in the backyard - way too tacky, especially with the design on the wings. As Trish would say, terrible taste."

Hopefully, she was taking care of that jumbo eyesore of a golem, given that she was the one who had tried infiltrating the group by presenting them with Sparda. The electric she-devil had been looking forward to playing with a newly modified batch of C4 infused with various demonic energies, fire elemental chief among them.

(What was with the women in his life liking big boom? After he had introduced them, Lady and Beryl had immediately gotten along together like Parmesan cheese and tomato sauce, eagerly discussing what types of explosive rounds were best against what types of demons and how to modify them to induce different effects. Returning to Vie di Marli after his jaunt through the Demon World had resulted in a worried Lucia meeting an equally worried Trish, Lucia showing Trish her Cranky Bombs, and Trish getting ideas. Even his mother had written in her journals on having customized grenades for various situations, and noted how some of Sparda's reactions were along the lines of "Have you gone mad, milday?", which Eva found absolutely hysterical.)

A weak laugh, interrupted by more coughing that turned into wheezing as Sanctus turned into his "angel" form to activate his healing. "We wanted to create a utopia. All we needed left was certain powers to bring it to fruition. The Savior would've helped us achieve that goal. If we could besee-"

"Like hell."

Not even the ticking of the grandfather clock could penetrate the heavy silence that followed.

"I see." Another chuckle, this time more darkly. "Perhaps I had been... far too optimistic in our calculations and our seers' predictions."

Dante snorted, flipping through one book before chucking it aside and reaching for another volume. The more interesting ones he tucked away for later reading. "Bet at least one seer gave a prediction which resulted in different lottery numbers that you didn't like on your game sheets. For an opportunity to battle a being of such grand delusion as you... would've probably been kinda boring. Really, was all of your collective sanity the price to pay for the power you guys wanted, got, and still want?"

"Because for this world-" Demonically forged metal clashing caused sparks to fly, the books and binders tossed about the air in the wake as Sanctus flew forward, some of the papers catching fire from the sparks. Dante didn't even move a centimeter on blocking with Rebellion, staring straight on at red and black eyes above an inhuman snarl. "-all that is needed is absolute power."

'For the love of Mother... At least Vergil had a sorta-understandable-but-still-crappy reason for summoning Temen-ni-gru, ending-the-Human-World problem aside.' Outwardly, Dante simply smirked before jumping over the Vicar and twisting about to lounge on top of a display case, enjoying how the priest stumbled at being used as a springboard via Enemy Step. "Then it looks like my fortune just got sweeter. Let's see your dance moves, old fart."

It wasn't the biggest of rooms, reminding him a bit of some of the interiors in Temen-ni-gru and Castle Mallet, but it was more than enough of a stage for them, even with flames starting to spread from the embers of the burnt paper and the wood furniture catching fire or being destroyed from the clash of energies. Sanctus's penchant for teleportation had Dante constantly using Air Trick to close the distance between them before switching to Rebellion to break down the shield. The additional minor annoyance was having to deal with the little drone orbs that'd pop into existence and throw themselves at him, forcing Dante to either take them out with Coyote-A or dashing aside. Pandora in Grief form did wonders on homing in at the old man, alongside Epidemic and Jealousy taking care of the drones that'd respawn often. Dante was a bit disappointed that he couldn't shoot at them the same way he did with his pool balls when a group of the drones encircled him and tried to rush at him, easily solved by jumping over them at the last moment.

"Burn!"

The volley of fireballs got Royal Blocked, to which Dante immediately returned the projectiles back, causing a roar of pain from the Vicar, struggling to summon his shield again but failing. "Can't even use these guys for a good grilling, and they're way too hot for any reasonable barbecue. Definitely would've ruined the flavoring, if you ask me."

"You dare?! I sentence you to death, Son of Sparda!"

"Now isn't that blasphemy, striking the son of the 'god' you worship?" The ensuing small storm of red electric bolts actually brought out a tiny grimace, reminding Dante of Griffon's attack as he wove about. Of all attacks to encounter here, this one wasn't something he had been expecting.

"Then prepare for further judgement!"

A small part of him briefly wondered what would his father's reaction be if he saw how his name and image was being used in such a manner as Sanctus charged again, demonic power boosting his flight. Probably be really baffled, if not be really disappointed. The heat from the licking flames and rumblings from outside reminded Dante that he had already dawdled enough, given that there was still that particular issue of his more-than-definitely-likely-is Devil Triggered nephew.

(Once again, cleaning up after his relatives' messes. Story of his life.

But a nephew...!)

At the last moment, Dante Royal Blocked Sanctus's charge before setting off the Dreadnaught form in a flash. That moment of sheer panic and utter fear in the Vicar's face was totally worth using it before he let loose with a Royal Release, sending the old man crashing next to the burning draperies, releasing Dreadnaught as the stored energy ran out.

"How... How can there be such a difference between us?!" More ichor spat out from Sanctus as he gurgled in rage, this time coughing more harshly. His halo flickered, as if his body was now barely able to maintain the demonic energies. "AM I NOT WORTHY OF YOUR STRENGTH, SPARDA?!"

Dante found it almost, almost, sadly comical at how the old general was screaming at his father's sword. "Because you surrendered your humanity, it's that simple. You also assumed humans are weak."

Sanctus pointed Sparda at Dante, defiance every inch in his posture in spite of his injuries. "Yet you are not human either! How am I inferior to you?!"

He slowly paced around, spinning Ivory in one hand while tilting his head to the side as if thinking. 'If I had a stack for every time I heard that "inferior to you" line...' "True, humans might not have the physical abilities of demons, but they possess something that demons don't."

Whether it be desperation or something else, Dante didn't want to know as Sanctus staggered forward. "Then what is it?! What is it that demons lack that pitiful humans have?!"

A bullet from Ivory into the right arm, Sparda slipping from surprised fingers, and Dante didn't even bother looking as he impaled Sanctus with his father's sword backhandedly faster than the old man could blink.

"You really should've done your homework first, geezer. The reason why you weren't worthy of my old man's power..."

"I have the true power of Sparda!"

"...is because you lack a heart that could love another person. I may be a Son of Sparda, but I'm also a Son of Eva."

One more shove from Dante, a final wet gasp from Sanctus, and then nothing as Sanctus's body slumped, withering into ashes alongside the burning remains of the office.

With a soft sigh, Dante once again went through the bookcases, salvaging whatever he deemed important. The next step was pulling out Lucifer and setting about creatively arranging the swords around the room, turning to leave once he was satisfied with their placements. Just as he was about to step back into the secret passageway, he snorted upon catching a glimpse of a supposed portrait of his father surrounded by worshipers that had survived most of the fight's destruction before shaking his head. A stray ember soon landed on it, causing the picture to slowly burn away as flames greedily ate the canvas and oils.

"'And the rest... is silence.'"

A flick, and the rose flew.

-3-1-2-4-5-

'Hurthurttoomuchhurtfindsafewheresafewhere.'

'...who? No... demon. ...myself...'

'Hurtnothurt as much now. Need to make sure safe. Danger.'

'...Kyrie. ...danger. Gotta... make sure... ...she's safe. Even if... I become a demon... so be it...'

'Yesyesyes. Make sure mate safesafesafe.'

'...not yet.'

'Not mate yet?'

'...no.'

'...then, precious?'

'...s'works.'

'Make sure precious safe.'

'...yeah. And if... I'm exiled... I'll endure it.'

'Anything... to protect her.'

3-1-2-4-5

Pandemonium.

That was what Kyrie could describe the current situation in one word if asked.

Or would that be chaos?

Either way, all she knew was that she had been worried about the "ceremony" Nero had been asked to participate in earlier, the one she wasn't allowed to attend. One of Agnus's assistants had been insistent that she not show up, citing that it was "primarily for potential-capable knights" before slamming the house's door shut in her face.

It had been a full house congregation that morning when the strange man in red had crashed through one of the stained glass skylights and shot the Vicar in the head. She was already used to hearing Nero practice with Blue Rose outside their home's backyard, but the thunderous clap of the shot was magnified due to the hall's design to maximize sound distribution. Kyrie had been trying to get the orphans near her seat at the pews to safety, but in the tussle had been knocked near the stranger, catching his attention. Relief went through her when Nero kicked him in the face with both feet and started fighting him, and she was soon whisked away by Credo. She wasn't even sure if the Vicar had survived or not when Nero came outside with news that the man in red had escaped. When Nero offered to go chase after the alleged assassin, Credo had flat-out refused and the younger knight had surprisingly stayed with her on helping tend to the injured.

From there later on, what little she could discern by carefully eavesdropping was that they had lost a number of their elites to the stranger, and needed replacements. Credo wasn't available, what with dealing with the council elders, thus explaining one of Agnus's assistants requesting Nero's participation.

(She didn't miss the nearly hidden apprehensive hand-squeeze from Nero before he left, rearranging his right arm's sling and pulling up his hood when the storm hit.)

Yet something about the "ceremony" had struck wrong with her. A quick few words exchanged with some of the lower ranking Order members that performed the daily maintenance didn't soothe the songstress's worries - many of them, those close enough, had heard painful yells coming from that room, and a few had recalled handling "disposals". While she might had only seen Agnus a few times from the distance, and only exchanged the barest of pleasantries, he always made her uneasy, especially what with the way how he spoke of things that hinted at some form of madness. And yet, given that he was the Order's Chief Alchemist, it made sense for him to be present for such a procedure. Sorting through the day's inventory at the opera house barely distracted her, even with the small talk exchanged with some of the sisters that ran the orphanage.

When the sirens sounded of a demon attack, Kyrie focused on trying to get as many people to safety. She wasn't a fighter, but years of listening to Credo and Nero, as well drills had her balancing attention on making sure those that couldn't get out were safely taken to the more secure parts of the cathedral. The police knights, those that handled the day-to-day civilian policing, were already out in force on dealing with the Scarecrows and Mephistos amidst the pouring rain.

And yet, she hadn't been able to shake off the feeling of dread when more demons appeared. Far more than what would be considered normal as lightning struck the Great Monolith in the distance multiple times.

Especially when winged white armors began showing up to fight the demons.

Dashing through the wet streets and constantly wiping at her face, Kyrie kept up her frantic search on making sure the other civilians had found shelter. Those she ran into, she quickly directed them to the closest group of police knights, although it was getting harder to see as the storm raged on. While grateful for the lightning rods, Kyrie still made sure to keep an eye out for cover. Even though the ever looming Great Monolith in the distance seemed to be taking the brunt of the strikes, she still felt that nagging unease, hoping that it was just a trick of light whenever she caught glimpses of something black dripping from it.

(The few texts she had been able to sweet-talk one of the librarians into showing her had identified it as the true Hell Gate that had been sealed by Sparda two-thousand years ago. The knowledge had left her wondering why it hadn't been destroyed, if not at least damaged to ensure the island's safety.)

Now in the business district, most of the civilians had also taken the same idea of staying inside and activating whatever shelters or wards that had been set up. Already, Kyrie was starting to have to dodge around the debris of broken buildings, street fixtures, and the occasional trees, glad to had worn her work clothing and her prayer hood shoved into a pouch. Several times had her ducking out of sight whenever she heard blades crashing against shields.

In spite of many a praise of the flying knights bearing the Order's crest, for some reason she still wasn't quite relived by the sight of the white armors. If anything, the timing felt far too coincidental.

Unfortunately, Kyrie had been so focused on keeping an eye out for people that she lost track of her surroundings. Tripping over a piece of concrete, she barely rolled out of the way with a shriek when a store front's signboard crashed down. Sputtering from the water that had splashed into her face, Kyrie realized she couldn't move because of the signboard pinning her leg painfully and then the dawning horrible realization that her scream had attracted several demons.

Some of the stories that her secret book club would smuggle in had occasionally mentioned about seeing one's life flash before their eyes when facing near imminent death. Whoever the authors were, there might had been some grain of truth to that when a Mega Scarecrow let out its rustling cackle and raised one of its bladed arms. Two Assaults bounced closer as well, circling as they came near, whereas several Mephistos floated around. Memories from childhood to teenage years to the present ran like a film reel one of the movie theatre attendants had shown her and Nero once. Screaming didn't even enter her mind as the blades came down. She had glimpsed one of the winged armored knights in the distance, but she doubt any one of them could make it in time.

'A simple wish, O Savior...' Eyes closed in resignation, a sad smile on her lips. 'Let this humble servant's prayer be granted, where I'll be able to see Nero and my family in the next life.'

Blades whistled.

Amber eyes snapped open when the Mega Scarecrow screeched in pain as a glowing blue claw burst through its chest just as lightning flashed through the sky, the dark demon clawing futilely at the intruding appendage. As soon as it was shoved in, the glowing arm ripped right back out, only to be replaced by a burning blade and the sound of a familiar revving Exceed, the sword slicing out to the side. One Assault let out an angry roar before it got hit with the thrown Scarecrow's body, screaming as the Scarecrow's blades sliced into it before one cut straight through its throat, turning the scream into gurgling instead. The other Assault, now more wary, growled defiantly, only shrinking back a bit at the countering demonic-sounding snarl from what had to be her savior. Kyrie wasn't sure what possessed the lizard demon to try, but not soon after it leaped into the air for its spinning attack, gleaming blue lines appeared, slicing not just the Assault and Mephistos ready to swoop in, but also the very air itself - she could barely make out what looked like indigo distortions following the blue lines in-between the flashes of lightning. The lizard demon's body fell to pieces not soon after, followed by spindly red limbs.

'Who-' Soft clanking above her head, barely heard over the storm. 'No! I hope they can tell that he's a friendly!'

Her prayer was in vain.

The few white knights she could just make out in the dim lighting had apparently deemed her rescuer a threat, going by their posture, and rocketed towards their target. The ensuing loud growl heralded the knights' destruction with either her rescuer's larger blade caving armor or the different blade slicing at the gaps. A large spectral blue claw bordered with red scales would appear several times to grab the knights that were further away before crushing them in its grip, or snatch the lances that would be sent shooting towards him before throwing them back at their original wielders. She had been expecting more bloody body parts to fall, teeth chattering from the chill as she struggled to get out from under the signboard. Instead, the singer had been shocked to see wisps of light escape from the pieces, and Kyrie swore she heard what sounded suspiciously like sighs of relief as the wisps faded into the air. As more knights joined in, more demons appeared, as if challenging for their prey. Those that weren't either burned, slashed, or crushed wound up being also skewered with what looked translucent blue double-sided knives that'd appear every so often, spinning above her rescuer before flying at their targets.

Soon, only the pouring of rain lightening and rumbling of thunder starting to fade.

She wasn't sure what would happen next, the rain almost deafening in the wake of the fight. In the distance, there was still the sounds of battle going on, but that was secondary to her current problem of being still pinned down. As if reading her thoughts, the stranger once again surprised her by lifting the signboard with merely a minor grunt before tossing it away with ease. As soon as the glowing blue claw extended out, it stopped and drew back, clenching into a fist. Taking in a deep breath and steeling herself, Kyrie looked up.

She couldn't help but stare up at the red and blue devil that loomed- No, even though he still easily towered over her while kneeling, she got the sense that he was practically cowering from her, as if afraid. Nervousness seemed to send partially unfolded dark blue wings twitching, letting her catch a glimpse of swirling yellow on the underside before they tucked up against his body. Clawed feet kept creating shallow gouges in the concrete, and asymmetrical fin-like protrusions that extended out from the devil's shoulders, akin to the graceful sails seen on some of the fishing boats but shifting uneasily.

As if to follow the asymmetry, his right arm and hand were covered in red and blue scutes, the blue glow along the front of the arm appearing as if it was a long scar, following to his palm and ending in claws. His left arm was mostly a slightly dark blue, with a strange protrusion growing above his wrist, and she knew her eyes weren't playing tricks on her upon catching sight of a long white sword hilt sticking out of it. Another sword handle peeked over his left shoulder with an Exceed lever parallel to it.

What also caught her attention was the dark red scales covering his front, as if following a familiar pattern, and there was a pair of white horns that curved over what could be amounted to be a red hood over his head. Glancing into the right eye that shone yellow - the left hidden by the hood - actually resulted in him looking away first.

And then his left hand rubbed the side of his nose.

"...Nero?" Kyrie breathed, eyes widening at the gesture.

A flinch, wings twitching again, and he reluctantly nodded.

Just as she was about to speak again, her sneeze startled both of them, reminding them of the rain. Claws hesitantly reached out and when she didn't react, Nero ever so gently lifted her up with ease before setting her down on a piece of debris under an intact cafe's awning. Moving as if to pull his hands back, Kyrie immediately grabbed his arms, still looking straight at him. She knew he had the strength to easily remove her hands, and yet he didn't do so. In spite of his fierce appearance, the singer couldn't help but marvel at how shy Nero was acting, head ducked low, every once in awhile glancing at the winged necklace he had gifted her just that morning.

'Was it only just this morning? It feels more like a lifetime ago...'

"Nero?" Kyrie repeated softly, voice trembling. She wanted to ask so many questions, but the words wouldn't leave her throat at the moment.

His jaw worked a bit, as if struggling with himself internally.

She waited patiently, trying to ignore her shivering from the cold.

"If... m'a demon... and not... a human anymore..." his voice finally rasped out slowly, low and gravely as if unaccustomed to speaking, with a bit of a distortion. "...s'this what you want... Kyrie?"

"Those boys' will be bruising for days, and yet not a scratch on him!"

"With such hair color, is it any wonder his mother abandoned him?"

"'Black,' indeed."

"Begone, demon child!"

Gradually yet without hesitation, she reached up to cup his face with both hands, gazing at him with solemn trust as tears mingled with the lessening rain. ('So much taller...') So many times had she also heard the barbed comments thrown at him over the years, the others always never wanting to go past his prickly armor to see the gentle kindness he never failed to show her. So many times had she seen the sneers and condescending glares whenever he would come back from patrol with the other Holy Knights or his own solo missions, harping on his rebellious attitude, disregarding the quiet tenderness he treated her with while he ignored them.

"You're you, Nero. And it's you I want to be with..." Kyrie reminded herself to breathe, relieved and glad when he didn't pull away. "I don't know anyone else who is as human as you are."

Cautiously reaching up to touch her hands, he nuzzled into one before a shudder ran through his body, causing concern to fill her. Like a puppet with its strings cut, all of the tension flowed out of Nero as he slumped forward on top of her, startling Kyrie as he transformed back into his human form with a flash.

"Sorry..." he mumbled, arms wrapping around her tightly and burying his nose into her hair. "Had a really... really rough day."

Kyrie couldn't help the small sob-laugh that escaped from her, not caring as she also hugged him back just as tightly. She didn't care when she felt clawed fingertips on his right hand gently stroke her hair, not did she care on feeling the warm wetness on her neck. "Me, too."

Glimpses of the setting sun could be seen peeking through the clouds.

-3-1-2-4-5-

Despite panting harshly and clutching at the stitch in his side, Credo just about took one step forward before a hand heavily clamped down on to his shoulder. The amount of strength in the grip prevented him for whirling around and he was too exhausted to try shrugging it off, but he was able to turn his head to look.

And tried not to pale at the man in red with distinct - and identical - silver-white hair shaking his head at him.

"Wha-"

"Let the kids have their moment," Dante spoke softly. "They've been through enough."

Credo wasn't sure what to make of the icy blue eyes that all but pierced into him. Looking back at Nero and Kyrie, the two now resting their foreheads against each other while still hugging, he decided that leaving them alone for the time being was a good idea. His own exhaustion wasn't just from chasing after Nero, but also having to take down a very angry Fire Hell Conqueror Berial at the abandoned mining village, who had been enraged at being unable to have access back to the Demon World while looking about.

(Somehow, Credo was sure that Dante had something to do with destroying the smaller Hell Gates.)

"The old fart's bit the dust, doubt he really cared for you guys in the end, from the nice chat I had with him. I probably trashed a good portion of your mad scientists' toys, although I might've left enough notes in case any one of you is considering treatment to better tackle funky instincts. And I think my partner isn't quite done with her job on dealing with that whackjob of a giant action figure." Gloved hands clasped behind white hair, jerking his head at the Hell Gate. "And then there's that eyesore of an antique. I know it's got major cultural and historical significance to you guys, but it's really bad for the community in the long run."

In the distance, the sounds of battle was gradually being replaced with the sounds of search and rescue.

Credo stared at a burnt glove while calloused yet otherwise flawless human skin showed through the holes before clenching it into a fist.

Dante turned his gaze back to the young couple, Nero now tending to Kyrie's injured leg with surprising delicacy. "So, what are you going to do now?"

The Supreme General wasn't sure how to respond, hand clenching tighter before loosening it. He had believed in the Order, always had since he was a boy, that the teachings would keep them safe. He used to beg his parents to tell him and Kyrie the story of how Sparda had sided with the Human World and sealed off the Demon World before disappearing into history before going to bed as a child. While it was said that Sparda had spent some time on their island before leaving, there were so many other texts that included other incredulous stories about the devil who "awoke to justice," that he used to imagine the many adventures the Savior had to had gone on in the intervening years. When he had joined the Holy Knights as a cadet, his parents were delighted. When he was later selected as the Supreme General by the previous General as he climbed the ranks, it had been one of his most proudest moments.

And then...

The Savior Project and the Ascension Ceremony.

He had had his reservations on being infused with demonic power to become an "angel" upon hearing how Agnus had described it. The large incubation tubes and holding cells hadn't eased any of his worries, in spite of Agnus's stuttering reassurances that the process had been nearing the final stages of perfection for them. The Project of creating their own Savior had also given him some pause, of being told the vision where humans didn't had to worry of living in fear of demons. The goal sounded wonderful - where none of his neighbors and family members had to worry about losing a loved one to demon attacks, and perhaps that they might be able to spread the word outside the island if given the opportunity.

And yet...

"I understand that contacting the outside is... highly ill-considered, but I felt it was necessary to maintain a continued understanding of the outer world, Lord Credo."

Credo had always believed in eliminating all demons for the sake of humanity, of a better world. But the one rumor of the Son of Sparda working with a huntress who had previously held a strong grudge against all demons on one of the mainlands had made him question that line of thinking. There were also stories of other places where demons and humans coexisted peacefully, such as another island that boasted of their own clan of protectors who were mixed-bloods. Then there were the rumors of the Son of Sparda having had a human mother and now currently with a human lover...

When Agnus had made his offer to participate in the Ceremony, he remembered accepting it with some hesitation.

His experience had been... unpleasant, to say the least, but he couldn't deny that he certainly came out far more revitalized and stronger.

However...

"Why should I believe some 'loving Savior' the old geezer preaches about all the time?! Everything the old coot spits out is bull! WHERE WAS THE 'SAVIOR' WHEN THEY DIED, CREDO?! WHERE?!"

Several of the knights that couldn't handle the process had gone berserk, unable to tell friend from foe, combatant from civilian.

His parents had been unfortunately touring the barracks that day.

He hadn't realized it, but Nero's raging grief, Kyrie's broken silence, and both preteens later sobbing into his chest that night had laid the seeds of that tiny traitorous voice that questioned everything about the Project and everything Sanctus spoke.

"I... I don't know," he spoke a bit hoarsely, finally bracing himself against a wall. "Although, I am... open to suggestions."

(That presence that he recognized as his own ange- devil wasn't too keen on showing weakness in front of Dante, but understood that the hunter could easily take him out, being of a stronger lineage and more than likely not as tired.)

Dante hummed, tilting his head thoughtfully, still studying the younger knight. 'He's got Verge's nose... And wears blue, go fig.' He himself wasn't sure on what to do with the info on the high-possibility of the kid being his nephew, although the current evidence were rather clear-cut. (He wondered if he could bug Sláine...) The hunter doubt the boy would be keen on staying on the island after this mess, although he also doubt the kid would be willing to leave behind the girl either, from the looks of it. He was actually somewhat impressed at how the girl still hadn't let go of him nor had shied away at all since the kid had de-Triggered, something his devil approved of.

Maybe...

"Don't think the kids would object to a change of scenery for a bit of a breather, would they?" Lady might usually mildly gripe at him being whimsical at times, but she never objected that some of seemingly whimsical decisions tend to result favorably for them in the end.

Credo side-glanced Dante, almost unsure at what the older man was suggesting, despite having an inkling. Looking back at Nero now carefully helping Kyrie stand, mindful of her injured leg, the Holy Knight couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of resignation. He gave a weak wave when the younger duo spotted him and Dante, both of them slowly working their way through the debris.

"I suppose it could be more prudent for them to be away from known and prying eyes here, if only for... better recovery." Credo let out an uncharacteristic snort at the thought of the other more hidebound townspeople, grunting a bit as he straightened back up. "I'll leave the decision up to them. But if I find out there was any unbecoming behavior happening towards my sister..."

Dante chuckled at the younger man's glare, in spite of Credo's injured state. Even if Vergil had been an ass about it, the older Son of Sparda had been looking out for his younger brother. Sort of. "No funny business, promise."

"Hey, Credo, who is the old man really?" Nero called out as he and Kyrie got closer.

"'Old man'?" Dante's eyebrow twitched, smile turning just a bit strained. "Watch it, kid. This dog's got a lot more tricks up these sleeves than you could shake a tail at."

Nero narrowed his eyes at the man in red he had fought earlier standing next to Credo, his foster brother having clapped a palm to his face while Kyrie tried stifling her giggles. Before this whole mess, he had been the only one to had been born with silver-white hair, what with pictures over the years as proof. While the elderly townsfolk also had white hair, theirs was a normal white - his was far more distinct. To meet someone who was definitely an outsider, who wasn't elderly (his "old man" crack aside), yet having the same hair coloring as his...

Something - something new in him - was reacting to the man in red. Not bracing to fight, more like... wanting to play?

"'Kid'?" He couldn't help but grin a bit. "I'm sorry, I thought your age had let the cat get your tongue so you wouldn't be able to chit-chat or monologue, old man. Besides, your accent is cra- terrible."

Another eyebrow twitch, his strained smile turning into also a bit of a strained grin. Even his inner devil's eyebrow twitched, marveling at the gall of their nestmate's fledgling, now that he had gotten a stronger scent of the boy. 'Yup, definitely Verge's.' "So, you're looking to play, huh? Well, looks like it's my lucky day because I still got some time to kill, kid."

Kyrie didn't bother hiding her giggles now, watching the two begin snarking at each other at a rapid pace as Credo muttered behind his hand about the lack of professionalism. It reminded her of watching the puppies that would frolic about on tugging at ears and pouncing on tails of the older guard dogs that simply wanted a nap, nipping at the puppies before the puppies would come bouncing back, begging to play and the older dogs just giving up in resignation. She could almost envision a white puppy with some of Nero's features play-attacking the tail of a white dog with the older man's traits, who'd continuously flick the puppy off.

"Credo?" she asked when she noticed her brother starting to walk away.

Both white-haired men paused, glancing over as well.

Credo waved them off. "I need to see to my men, as well search and rescue efforts and making sure the townspeople are safe. I'll see you two later at home, and I'll leave the Hell Gate to your discretion, Dante."

Just as he passed by Nero, he paused, pulled out the younger knight's hand and pressed Blue Rose into his palm, wrapping Nero's fingers tightly around the gun. Nero stared at the older knight in shock, as if searching for something before nodding solemnly and holstering his weapon. Returning the nod, he continued his departure.

Carefully shuffling away as his demonic healing slowly took over, Credo sighed to himself in resignation. Apparently, he was going to have to get started on that international identification papers program that had been set aside a long time ago, the one their closest neighboring mainland government had been consistently nagging them about. For now, he steeled himself on facing the mountain of damage and repair reports, as well any other surviving council members that oversaw the general legislative activities. And then there was the issue of the Project. Fighting a horde of Agnus's experiments was starting to look a lot more preferable than the hell known as paperwork.

Dante simply shook his head before turning back to the Hell Gate, scratching the back of his head. Now he needed to figure out on how to destroy that thing without Yamato, because Trish had to snatch the entire bag of C4. He also wasn't sure if it was a good idea to demand his brother's sword from the kid, the awkward "Hi, I'm your devil hunting uncle, your power-seeking idiotic dad's younger twin brother, and, oh yeah, your paternal devil grandpa is the 'Savior' your town worships as a god" as-of-yet explanation aside. 'Maybe as much of what Lucifer can put out in stages with Gilgamesh and then Pandora's missiles...'

A brief flare of demon magic and a slight rattle. "Here."

The older hunter had to keep his features neutral upon seeing his brother's sword being held out to him in the younger man's right hand, although his eyes did widen a bit. "For real?"

"It..." Nero worked his jaw again, marshaling his thoughts into order and still trying to get used to the sensation of ridges and scutes instead of calloused skin. The memory of the ceremony was still fresh in his mind, that something inside him reacting negatively to it, like a hissing kitten. He might not share the same type of education as half the scholars at the college or the archivists did, but he wasn't a complete idiot either. "I... I needed it, to protect her. I... I've read the stories, too, even though I never really put that much stock into half of those 'legends'. And I think you'd know more on how to use the sword better than I could. If what half of the cra- crud the priests would ramble on are true, then... you have a right to this sword far more than me."

"Might controls everything. And without strength, you can't protect anything. Let alone yourself."

"I need more power!"

A quick glance over to the girl showed pink dusting her cheeks as she ducked her head, hands still intertwined and still leaning against him. There was no missing the delight and happiness that shone in her eyes.

Blinking several more times to get rid of the prickling feeling, Dante let out a melancholic chuckle, accepting the demonic blade and feeling the slight thrum of recognition from the sword. /'Hey, long time no stab. Bet you were bored, Yams.'/

What sounded like minor grousing in his head, the sense of a chin being propped up, and fingers drumming a table that wasn't quite befitting the image of a noble figure. /'Of course you would still use that infernal nickname... You have no comprehension on how... frustrating it was being broken, listening to that imbecile of an alchemist ramble on about finding ways to restore me in-between their ridiculous "vision" day in and day out, Master Dante. Freedom has never felt so exhilarating after being in that wretched holding chamber for so long.'/

/'Heh. Thoughts on the kid?'/

/'The fledgling is young, almost as foolish as you two were, but perhaps some tempering will straighten out most of his flaws and some polishing to further hone him.'/

"Eyes on me, kid. Maybe someday you'll get good enough to match me on this." Dante gestured the couple to stay behind him, readjusting his grip on the sheath in his left hand and sliding into a familiar drawing stance, right hand hovering over the tsuka. /'...you miss him too, don't you.'/

/'He carries some of his touch, but...'/ Quiet, and a then wistful sigh, far from her usual elegance. /'I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy our time together.'/

Thumb popped the tsuba, focusing to visualize the paths to cut, and drew. A single white line flew at the giant Hell Gate in the distance, as if the blade was cutting the very air itself. He continued swinging with Yamato's edge singing, following a familiar form that had been used against him a long time ago, and with a flourish, slowly slid Yamato back into the sheath.

For a moment, Nero and Kyrie thought that he had missed, as the Hell Gate was still standing.

Dante then fully sheathed Yamato with a click.

The unexpected rumbling reminded the two of some of the earthquakes Fortuna would occasionally suffer through, eliciting startled yelps from them and causing Nero to regain his footing so as to prevent Kyrie from toppling over. Wide eyes watched as a chunk of the Hell Gate slid off of the bottom portion, slowly breaking apart into smaller pieces before crashing to the ground. Another portion at the bottom broke off as well in the opposite direction, following its brethren.

Dante nodded to himself in satisfaction, resting Yamato across his shoulders. "Not bad, if I do say so myself."

/'Your stance is still a bit off, Master Dante. Not enough power in the last two swings.'/

/'Shush, you. Need to keep the kids impressed.'/

The devil hunter ignored the snort, briefly savoring the awed looks on the young adults' face as he walked up to them. The gleam in the boy's eyes on seeing his version of Judgement Cut reminded him of Vergil when they got their first sword lessons so much that Dante had to shove the pain aside. "You got names, kids?"

"Kyrie," she replied softly, bobbing her head in greeting.

"Nero." Shoulders straightened, bracing himself. "You're Dante, right?"

'Got taunted about the irony often, huh. If only I had found out about you earlier...' "Got that in one. Not a bad name, kid."

Nero blinked, surprised at the lack of any sort of mocking, and relaxed a bit in relief. "Neither is yours. So... what's next for you?"

His automatic response would've been "go home, gripe at hunting partners on the deducted pay, and eat pizza," except the blue glow from Nero's right arm promptly put a kibosh on that. He might not had completely read up about the island's history, but knowing how smaller communities worked and remembering how his own younger years went, the suggestion he had offered to the girl's older brother was certainly looking to be a good idea.

"Clean up for the time being, since I came here with my hunting partner, and then we're flying back home. Also, this." He held Yamato out back to Nero. "Keep it."

Sheer disbelief flashed on to both young adults' faces, more so on Nero. Reading and hearing stories of the demon sword that had separated the Human World from the Demon World, and then seeing it partly in action, he couldn't imagine the value of such a weapon. "What...? But I thought this meant a lot you!"

A wistful smile, wrapping Nero's right claw around the sheath warmly. The kid was Vergil's son, but Nero wasn't Vergil, the lonely young and orphaned part-devil who had no one as solid backup for years before going off on that half-baked plan. The sweet girl - Kyrie - standing by him, rough edges and all, was certainly proof of that. "It's got to stay in the family."

It took a moment for the words to hit Nero like an out of control Calibur with its Exceed's limiters removed, all but gaping at Dante with eyes wide. He also heard Kyrie gasp upon realizing as well, feeling her shock. His mouth moved, and yet no words would come out. Even though Kyrie and Credo's parents had more or less raised him, Nero had always wondered if he had any blood relations out there, a small childish wish that had been put away as he grew older.

"It's the only kind of gift worth giving. I want to entrust it to you, and so I am." Fumbling through his own pockets, Dante triumphantly found a stack of slightly crumpled business cards and tucked one into Nero's chest pocket. "If you two ever need a change of scenery, hit me up."

With a gentle pat on Kyrie's head and a quick ruffle of Nero's hair, Dante walked away with a wave, chest feeling probably a bit tighter and a lot warmer than usual.

The wetness on his face was just from the barely lingering drizzle.

Yup, just the light sprinkling.

-3-1-2-4-5-

"...you're serious."

An exhausted sigh before it was interrupted by wet harsh coughing. "I believe that... it certainly will be better for the two of them. He can properly learn more from you, and I know she's been interested in more of the outside world."

Neither men had bothered bringing up the actual reason of Credo's phone call yet.

Dante let out his own sigh, tilting his chair back. It was one of the slower periods of the business, a steady stream of the easier and boring jobs that ended rather quickly, although a few were a bit more excitable. The shop was quiet that day since Lady was out meeting a client, and Cato was in school.

"Well, it must be something major for you to actually take up my offer."

"It's..." Credo let out a weak cough, quickly pulling out his handkerchief. "There's been... continuing issues in regards to Nero's presence."

He had expected that, although Dante was a bit surprised that it took this long since he left Fortuna. Nero, for all his brashness, absolutely loved talking with his newfound relatives, constantly asking for battle advice, or wanting to learn a little more on handling devil instincts. Cato had been just as eager to be on the phone with his new cousin, both of them trying to one-up each other. Talking with Nero had the tendency of bringing a smile to Dante's face and the same warm feeling he'd feel when cuddling with Lady and Cato. Their conversations also had the tendency to devolve into both of them playfully trash-talking each other, which would eventually result in both Credo and Lady yelling at them to hang up because of time zones, phone rates, and some people needed sleep, frag it all.

The first time Nero had excitedly slipped on saying "Uncle Dante" without realizing it, Dante was immediately reminded of when Cato spoke his first words, and there was no describing the emotions it brought up. Well, other than him and his devil purring almost non-stop for the rest of the day. (He had to laugh when Lady had teased him about not having any need to buy one of those expensive massage chairs because she already had her own personal one.)

"How bad is it?"

"Tolerable to a degree at the start, but the verbal abuse is starting to get worst." More coughing. Credo wiped his mouth, not even surprised at seeing his blood more black than red on his handkerchief. "Kyrie hasn't really spoken anything either, but some of my subordinates have reported back to me that she's being ostracized, even by those she knew since childhood, and I've seen her depressed when she thinks I'm not looking. Those loyal to me such as my second Benedictus haven't voiced their opposition to Nero, which is a small mercy, but the other rank and file aren't restraining themselves." Another resigned sigh, more weary. "He hasn't been outright physically attacked yet as he still bears the Order's crest, but I do not want to reach that point where if Nero has to defend himself..."

"...they'll run with that he's attacking them and won't accept otherwise," Dante finished, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Fan-freaking-tastic. I suppose you have both of their paperwork fixed up already."

"Almost done." Credo had to admit, it was amazing how a little bit of growling got certain things done so much faster. "Only Nero's has run into some trouble due to his being from the orphanage, as some of the workers there still had some... issues with him."

A derisive snort as Dante set his chair back down, pulling out a notepad and doodling away a bit. "Anyways, you talked with the kids?"

"Soon. However, I do have one last request..."

"Name it."

"I want you and Nero to be my pallbearers."

Dante couldn't remember the last time he had nearly dropped his phone. Actually, make that never. He did snap his pencil, the writing part flying off and hitting the wall next to one of the window frames.

Credo let out a soft chuckle, having anticipated that, and took some pride on being able to stump such an infamous devil hunter. "I presume such a request is extremely rare for you."

"Hey, I dance with death almost on a weekly basis, but not in that fashion," the hunter quipped, quickly recovering. Even his devil was a bit flabbergasted. "...why Nero and I?"

Next to the phone was a framed photo of his family. The light's glare covered his parents' faces, but it still showed two happy red-haired children and one begrudgingly smiling white-haired boy. "Who better than one of the few most important people in my life and someone who truly understands him?"

He hated funerals, always had for obvious reasons. So did Lady. Any time one of his and/or Lady's former clients would them send invitations to attend, both would always find ways to politely turn them down. As much as both of them didn't mind working alongside other hunters and their agents, they never really felt comfortable on making nice with "normal people." Bad enough graveyards were frequent targets of necromancers and grave robbers, reckless teens playing with both proverbial and literal matches, or demons making a home when the grounds were abandoned or weren't warded.

There was only one gravestone he and his little family would visit with no reservations.

"I'm normally not the kind of guy for these things. But, I think I can make an exception."

'I'll take on a horde of arch-demons to make it if I have to.'

Credo let out the breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding, calloused fingers rubbing the photo's glass. "I would also be honored if your family could attend as well."

'I entrust Nero and Kyrie to you.'

Lady might make an exception, too. "Hey, no problem. Lady's been itching to travel a bit and we've been wanting to show Cato a little more outside our city."

'We'll take care of the kids.'

"Very well, I'll have my attorney make the changes to my will."

'Thank you.'

"Just make sure to leave a copy with Kyrie for me."

'Don't worry.'

-3-1-2-4-5-

Kyrie wasn't sure what to think.

Learning that Credo's body wasn't going to last much longer because of the Ascension Ceremony had been a shocker.

"Human bodies were never meant to truly handle demonic power," Sláine, Dante's doctor friend, spoke gently, sitting across brother, sister, and Nero in the living room. Dante had called him in to get an outside opinion, being also a half-devil and having far more worldly knowledge that the Order's alchemist either didn't had or rejected out of pride.

"I see," Credo simply said, having resignedly anticipated that. He wasn't the lone case - almost everyone else who had gone through the Ascension Ceremony had been showing similar symptoms to his.

Sláine tapped the sheaf of papers Credo and Dante had provided, various alchemist notes that hadn't been destroyed. "It's not just the body, there's also mind and heart. A mind and heart filled with ill intent, be it selfish reasons or to dominate others with no regard, might last long enough with demonic power sustaining their body due to the healing factor, but it simply deludes them into thinking invincibility. Someone with a more benign heart can last longer, and while the physical repercussions are still there, they're less likely to lose their sense of self so as long they keep that benign mentality and the capacity to care for others, not just themselves. There's been different rituals over the centuries that allows humans to obtain demonic power, but most of those are akin to having it dumped on to them. I have to give Agnus some credit, as the Ascension Ceremony is about the most controlled process I've ever read of. Even then, there's a reason why humans who have been demonically possessed or be influenced tend to always have declining health until an exorcism is done."

"But, what about me?" Nero asked, left hand rubbing his right claw's palm. "The junior alchemists told me that I had absorbed a lot more than what was considered 'safe' by their standards and I'm the only one not showing any of the same problems."

Sláine let out a sad sigh, as if hating himself for the coming response. "Our demonic heritage allows natural born hybrids like us to better tolerate foreign demonic power without as much issue, although we do still have our own limitations and we're not above the mind and heart caveat either. Lineage could be a factor as well, and your grandfather was an extremely powerful devil before he had sealed his power away, from what I could read up."

"Then..." Kyrie hesitated, holding Credo's hand and biting her lip when he squeezed hers, as if trying to reassure her. "How much longer?"

"So as long Credo doesn't overuse his demonic abilities or overexert himself while in human form, about a year."

And then learning he had asked Dante to take her and Nero in after his passing had thrown both of them into a further loop.

It felt as if things had gone suddenly so fast.

Credo's wake and funeral... She hugged herself tightly, trying not to remember some of the whispered comments from the townspeople that had shown up.

"Bewitched girl."

"What does she see in that boy?"

Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she couldn't get the images of the barely concealed condescending looks and faux pity out of her head.

"I can not believe that Credo put in his will that the boy and that strange man be two of his pallbearers!"

"I would not be surprised if it was because of the demon child being the cause of his death."

"Especially with that grotesque arm of his."

She had seen how Nero was literally fighting with himself - his devil - to not attack the commentators, jaw clenched tight enough where she was sure he could literally bite a sword in half. It was partly because of Dante and Benedictus's presences and the fact they were carrying Credo's casket that Nero hadn't done anything. Lady, Dante's wife, had been also a blessing, fiercely glaring down anyone that looked as if they were going to start something with Kyrie, a reassuring arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Afterwards, things seemed to be a blur. Their attorney, an old family friend, helping them with their paperwork so that they could live with Dante with as few problems as possible, other than following up with them in the future if necessary. Things soon boxed up to be shipped, other items distributed elsewhere (or perhaps thrown away for fear of "taint"), and the more simpler personal belongings carried on them.

And then, an empty home.

They thought the silence could've never been that more deafening.

Having never left the island since they were born, both Kyrie and Nero found the entire trip leaving them feeling like leaves in a storm. The ferry ride wasn't too bad, nor was the car ride on the mainland, two concepts they were already familiar with. It was seeing the structures of steel and glass that would've towered over Castle Fortuna, the extreme range of clothing designs worn, and then the airport with the flying machines they had read about. Dante had teased them that this was just a hint of the world outside Fortuna as they went through the check-in process, their heads swiveling every which way trying to see everything. Out of a sense of caution and at Lady's advice, Nero kept his arm covered and wore a glove.

The entire flight had been... quite the experience, in her mind. She wasn't sure if she wanted to try it again in the future, given how tightly she had been gripping both arm rest and Nero's hand. She did smile at how excited Nero was, in part of his love for machinery, peppering his amused aunt and uncle with questions which was supplemented by happy chattering from his adorable cousin Cato.

Settling in what would be her room, the thump of dropping off her bag, sitting on the bed, and hearing the unfamiliar sounds of the outside city life... The reality of it all soon crashed on to her.

Kyrie couldn't help but let out a soft sob.

A dip in the bed next to her, and she didn't need to know that it was Nero drawing her close. She promptly buried her face into his chest, taking in the feel of him stroking her hair with clawed fingertips and the familiar smell of gunpowder and engine propellant that clung to his clothes.

"Bit much, huh," he spoke softly.

Kyrie nodded, hiccuping.

"Same with me." Nuzzling her hair and breathing in her scent also helped soothe his still-learning devil instincts. "I've been wondering if we're in a dream, or if we're awake, ever since we left. Had to pinch myself to make sure that this is real and that we're both alive."

"I... I don't know what to do now. I feel like I don't even know myself," she whispered tearfully. "I don't know what to even think."

"Me neither." He didn't know when he started it, but he didn't stop the low rumble going through his chest. It was as if his devil was also trying to soothe her as well, not liking the smell of tears coming from her.

Despite reassurances from Credo, Nero felt angry at himself for being the only one to not suffer any negative side effects of the Ascension Ceremony after their discussion with Sláine. Especially given the fact that he had absorbed a lot more demonic energy compared to the others. (Why Agnus never disclosed the downsides, they'll never know.) While he had never gotten sick, Nero couldn't help but admit that he had felt a lot more energized than before. The explanation from Dante's doctor friend about him being a natural mix-blood didn't ease his conscience much either, never mind the fact that his paternal grandfather was an extremely powerful devil. His own devil had spent days whining unhappily in his head, causing much distraction.

It took Dante taking him out for a spar - read a no-holds-barred beat down - in the mountainous parts west of Mitis Forest with both of them Triggered to get him out from most of the guilty wallowing. Kyrie patching up the worst of his injuries afterwards, softly telling him how it wasn't within their control had helped eased some of the shame a little more, but it didn't fully erase it away.

The slim consolation they took was that Credo had been smiling peacefully when they found him that particular morning, Nero reluctantly absorbing his Aegis Shield that he had left behind for the younger man.

Through the window, a car alarm blared loudly, followed by some shouting before it quieted down again.

"Although I am going to kinda miss one thing."

Sniffling, Kyrie questioningly looked up into stormy blue eyes. While the glow from his right arm lit her room in a way that reminded of her old nightlight, she was able to make out a faint glow in his eyes.

Nero smirked a bit. "Losing potential future opportunities of seeing the townsfolk's faces when Cato goes after them. Kid's definitely a chip off the old block."

Kyrie couldn't help the hiccuping laugh at the memory of Cato oh-so-innocently mouthing off at her detractors, a devil may care smirk growing on his face upon seeing the reactions of sheer disbelief and indignation. Cato reminded her of how Nero was when he was younger, namely the mix of childish curiosity and a sharp mind with that touch of rebellious snark alongside his looks. (That he had also taken a shine to her alongside his adoration of Nero was something of a surprise, which warmed her heart to no end.)

There was no missing the beaming pride from Dante and Lady, both blatantly ignoring the scandalized hisses for them to "reign in their insolent and disrespectful son during such a solemn event." Instead, Lady loudly praised her son for being such a good protector while Dante grinned and ruffled Cato's hair, causing the boy to blush.

That low rumble in his chest soon turned into a gentle purr, his devil glad that she wasn't as depressed anymore. For several moments, they simply basked in the unfamiliar city night-life sounds and the soft conversation between the trio downstairs drifting up to them through the open door. Dante and Lady had made it clear on wholeheartedly supporting them all the way, and the younger couple could faintly hear ideas on how to make their lives easier being tossed about.

"One day at a time," Nero murmured, pulling her up as Cato eagerly called for them that dinner was ready.

Kyrie nodded, wiping her face. "One day at a time."

Both of them stepped out into the warmer light of the main office, Nero soon trading playful quips with Dante and a bouncing Cato while Lady looked on with fond exasperation and Kyrie soon giggling again.

A/N: This was supposed to had been a short piece. Instead, I spend two weeks banging out this, while trying to dodge DMC5 spoilers but failing (mostly by accident). This thrice-damned bunny was courtesy of wingsofthenight and Sevi007's Tumblr posts on what would happen if Nero went through the Ascension Ceremony, and it didn't want to let go until it was completed. XD There's also some extra inspiration by duckydrawsart's Tumblr art post of Nero in his 4 DT concept form with Kyrie. And of course, a bit of a callback to two of my earlier DMC works, "Countenance" and "Thereafter".

And then DMC5's Final Trailer dropped... AND THEN THE "MORE SPOILERY DETAILS OF 'WE FREAKING CALLED IT'" MATERIALS.

Regarding Credo... Wasted potential, again. I disappoint myself. Ay... I believe that the Ascension Ceremony had to have some drawbacks. Deadly Fortune mentioned that Kyrie and Credo's parents died when several Knights couldn't handle the process, most likely because their minds, wills, and/or bodies weren't strong enough. Those of sounder minds or stronger will could survive through the process, resulting in Credo who had a sound mind (sorta, bad plan after all); Agnus's slight madness being its own form of strong will (since he created it); and while Dante headshots Sanctus, that's not to say Sanctus might not had been experimenting on healing items - human and demonic - over the years that kept him stable enough to be revived in the Ceremony.

Then there's heart, or lack thereof: Arius in 2 wanted to be King of the Underworld and had become a grotesque demon when Lucia, a "defect", defeats him; Arkham in 3 absorbed Sparda's power, but he turned into a blob monster in part of sacrificing his own wife and willing to do the same on his own daughter; Sanctus screaming at Demon Sword Sparda before he got absorbed into becoming the False Savior after Nero beats him in 4; and in the anime's case after Dante kicks Sid's ass, one's soul - someone who has a rotten soul, no matter how much power they have, could never amount to someone who has a real soul. Credo I headcanon had enough love - heart - within him for Kyrie and Nero to keep his own mind, thus giving him his more angelic Angelo form. As Dante said to Agnus, the Order "surrendered [their] humanity. It's that simple," and Nero to Sanctus on Sparda having a heart that could love a human, Eva. The4thSnake in his "Devil May Cry is Deeper Than You Think" YouTube video lays out the exact same points. (Huh, kinda a bit like Kingdom Hearts.)

Yet there's a reason why humans that apparently get demonic possession/attachments tend to have declined health in alleged real world events, which could mean human bodies aren't really meant to handle demonic power in DMC - Beryl in 2's prequel novel was mentioned having difficulty when in the presence of strong demonic power, further complicated by her demonically-inflicted scar. Natural born hybrids like the twins and Nero, or created devils like Trish and Lucia, probably have higher tolerances, so they're more likely be able to absorb demonic energies without too much issue, short of their own mental states/body limitations. Short exposure, plus a strong mind and will, is probably about as safe of a threshold for normal humans before side effects start kicking in. On that note, this bears repeating: Lady's a freaking badass for her sheer will of climbing through Temen-ni-gru, a demonic tower that connects to the Demon World, in spite of being purely human and actually making it out alive with her mind intact.

The title refers to one of Dante Aligheri's works, De Monarchia, where he had argued the Holy Roman Emperor and Pope were only human, deriving their power and authority directly from God and were equal in their respective domains, rather than the Pope having authority superior over the Emperor. Needless to say, De Monarchia was banned by the Catholic Church back then.

A silvologist is someone who studies forests and woods, understanding the ecosystem, as well practicing forest management.