Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Redgrave City

An alleyway littered with rubbish, discarded children’s toys, and clothing. A single entity haunted the dead end, leaning heavily against the wall leaving a trail of blood on the brick walls. He traced the grooves between the bricks with his fingers, sniffling with every step. He tasted his blood on his tongue, mixed with saliva and tears.

Dante wanted to go home , but he didn’t know what was ‘home’ anymore. His battle with his twin weighed heavily on his mind, and the amulet hidden beneath his jacket burned his skin. He wanted to return to Devil May Cry - recently dubbed by using one of Trish’s catchphrases.

Dante stumbled out of the alley into the pouring rain, a car speeding past his face causing his hair to whip into his eyes. He spit a mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Getting impaled never hurt this bad for this long before. Jumping down from a roof into an alleyway had sent blinding pain up his legs, but nothing compared to his back at that moment. Dante grit his teeth, walking briskly down the sidewalk to his ‘home’ , completely prepared to curl into a ball on the couch and sleep it off.

Once at the doors, Dante blindly rummaged his pockets for his keys, biting his tongue to stifle the screams that wanted to rip from his throat. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against the old wooden frame for support.

He’d made it this far. It had only been a simple extermination job. One of his first real ones, as a licensed Demon Hunter- Dante had gone through worse before. His wounds would always heal themselves- he’s survived being shot in the head several times.

Dante collapsed onto the couch with a groan, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He had half a thought to strip, anything to escape the nagging discomfort, anything to alleviate the pressure that only made his back hurt worse. Taking off his red coat was already enough of a struggle for Dante, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.

It must have been the July heat getting to him. Hot, humid, lots of rain and physical strain for days on end. He wanted his too-tight pants off. Leaning forward to untie his boots had Dante shaking from another sharp stab that shot up his spine. He flopped back against the couch, kicking the boots off.

Dante couldn’t be bothered to get off the couch to remove his cursed pants, he merely lifted his hips and shimmied out of them. The fabric inner lining clung to his legs, and the smell of blood hit Dante. He’d been bleeding , blood soaking his boxer briefs, halfway down his thigh, and it hadn’t stopped . Dante bit his tongue, tasting blood as much as he could smell it, just as a wave of nausea and pain hit him again.

His inner demon was panicking , enough that Dante could feel it crawling through his own senses. They knew something was wrong, the way his internal organs seized with every flash of pain. The pain had been happening every ten minutes or so prior, now it was every few minutes- barely enough time for Dante to recover and breathe again.

Writhing . Maybe he had a demonic parasite, and this was his body’s way to get rid of it. Dante tried to wipe the blood from his thighs, his hands trembling as it kept coming, a heavy flow- worse than any period he’d ever had in his life.

Not that he’d had one since he was twelve.

They had hit their breaking point, demonic energy washing over Dante like a tsunami, dulling his pain and calming him. It was his own weak attempt to comfort himself, surrounded by energy that reminded him of V-

Seconds turned to minutes, those minutes into hours, hours of back-breaking labor as Dante clawed at himself. He drew more blood, shredding his own flesh with his claws. They wanted it out. His demon was instructing him to not be hasty, this had to be done slowly- an overwhelming desire to protect resonating in his bones. He couldn’t injure this- whatever it was-

Blurred, hazy images flashed through Dante’s mind. He’d seen his own organs spilled before, but this was different. Cutting himself open with shaking hands and sharper claws, Dante’s fangs tore through his bottom lip as he tried to stifle any cries he made.

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, his mind a thundering turmoil as he listened , just this once. They could stop the pain.

Dante held life itself in his hands, completely disconnected from the world as his flesh began to knit back together. He was coated in blood up to his elbows, and even more on his precious , but dingy old leather couch.

A tiny babe, with sparse white hairs atop his head. Unmoving, silent. Dante froze with fear, his blood running cold in his veins, bursts of ice that stabbed at his every nerve. They told him to be calm, bring the child to his chest, warm them with the fiery blood in his veins.

It- he moved, wriggling in Dante’s arms. He could feel the baby leeching off of his own demonic energy, springing to life like a lit candle. With the mightiest stretch a newborn could manage, he sought out his mother, breaking Dante from his haze.

There was a baby in his arms. Dante didn’t know what to do with babies, or children in general. There shouldn’t be a newborn in his arms, sticky, disgusting, yet possibly the most beautiful thing Dante had seen in his life. He had something- someone , that was unmistakingly his , which had him purr in delight, completely forgetting the pain it had taken him to get to this point.

Dante could finally breathe, grounding himself through his tears, and the warmth against his chest. A warmth that truly, shouldn’t have been there. There was zero chance supposedly, so how?

“Heh, Zero. Maybe I should call you… Nero .” The boy- his boy , Nero, seemed to be fine with his name, not that he could complain.

oOo

Dante balanced Nero in one arm and a bottle he’d managed to buy in his hand, saying every prayer he didn’t know and mentally thanking the cashier who had given him discounts on all the supplies he bought. Sure, Dante didn’t have any money for pizza, or even the power for the building, but he had supplies for Nero and that’s all that mattered to him.

The phone ringing was the last noise he expected to be hearing, and the sound startled Nero- his little one crying for the first time, a quiet noise that broke his heart. Dante had to juggle trying to get Nero to latch onto the bottle, and also scampering across the room to answer the phone.

“Devil May Cry, Dante speaking. ” He wasn’t prepared for the slew of angry cursing from the other side of the phone, effectively chewing him out- of course it wasn’t an actual customer , it was Lady- the woman he’d teamed up with only a few months prior. Dante of course, had been borrowing money from her, going demon hunting for her- it was his profession, after all.

“ Dante, where the fuck have you been?” Dante sucked air through his front teeth, prepared to give her a bullshit excuse, anything from the truth he could think of- “Actually, don’t answer that. I have a job for you.” Dante made a noise of complaint, ready to decline her, but Nero tugged at the long ends of his white hair- effectively drowning out any excuses Dante could think of. He could hear Lady’s confusion from the other side of the line, something along the lines of questioning what that sound was-

The sounds melting him was precisely all Nero , cooing up at him. Nero had always been amused by Dante’s hair, the same silvery white as his own fluff atop his head. Dante was easily distracted, keeping the phone in the crook of his neck as he leaned down to nuzzle the top of Nero’s head, earning tiny giggles as a response.

“...Dante?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Where and what time?” Dante couldn’t help his voice sounding so soft , unlike the flirty brat that Lady was used to. He could go only so long deceiving others, but around Nero, the walls around his heart were paper thin.

“I’ll come by with the information. Don’t keep me waiting, you owe me.” Dante snickered, thinking of a sly comment to make-

“I always owe you.”

oOo

Dante expected a myriad of emotions, a whirlwind to come through his front door, sass and screaming. Lady froze once she entered the front door, holding onto the handle. He couldn’t stand her stopping and shutting down.

“Is that…?” Dante’s mind scrambled for any awful catchphrases, references, or jokes he could make. Lady shut the door, setting her bag down slowly, quietly- hands raised like she was surrendering.

“Uh, this is Nero .” Of all the things Dante could think of, holding Nero in the air to show him off was at the bottom of his mental tier list, but somehow was the option he chose. Lady removed her firearms and left them by the door before approaching, curbstomping anxiety Dante didn’t know he had.

“Huh… he’s pretty… cute… I guess? For a baby, at least.” Lady scrunched her nose like she was scrutinizing, but stuck her tongue out at Nero once she thought Dante wasn’t looking. And to Dante’s surprise, she held out her hands like she wanted to hold him- “Gimme.” He held Nero close to him, half torn between demonic instincts and the human social cues to hand over his offspring, but Dante gave in and handed Nero over.

“Wasn’t expecting you of all people to want to hold a kid.”

“And I wasn’t expecting you to have one with you, but this explains why you’ve been dodging work.” Lady adjusted Nero in her arms, grinning at him as he stared at her in the full package of abject baby horror upon meeting new people. “Definitely yours, the hair, the eyes, the hint of sulfur. Did he get dropped off at your front door or something?” Lady looked up to Dante, silently demanding an answer, trying to not jostle the baby in her arms.

“Uh, it’s a funny story actually. I had him on the couch.” Dante held out his hands in defense, waving them in the air as he tried to laugh off the weight of his words. Lady raised a single brow, squinting as she slowly tilted her head to fully meet his eyes. She had given his body a once-over with her eyes, in all of her scrutinizing but also pity.

“I hate that I can believe you.” Lady’s eyes had lingered on Dante’s stomach a second too long for his liking, as he pulled his coat closed to keep her prying gaze away. A scar that wouldn’t heal, still pink as the fiery blood in his veins repaired most of the damage. “And that scar is proof, isn’t it?”

Dante frowned, biting his bottom lip as he finally ended their unannounced staring contest. He couldn’t look her in the eye any longer, overwhelming shame washing over him. How she viewed him could have been his worst nightmare, just like how many others viewed him. Dante was a freak of human nature, after all.

“I don’t know why it won’t heal. Like… like I’m branded . Stuck with an identicator for the rest of my life.” He played with the frayed edges of his coat, in an attempt to ground himself to reality once again- this isn’t a dream. 

“Maybe it’s the demon blood. Maybe they wear their childbearing scars like battle scars.” Lady shouldn’t be trying to comfort Dante, shouldn’t be trying to help justify another half-breed being brought into the world. But looking down at Nero, a face of awe and innocence, she couldn’t bring herself to wishing damnation upon such a being. Nero appeared downright angelic , with his cherub cheeks and wide eyes.

“I didn’t think of it that way, actually.” Dante let go of his coat, the red fabric settling around his form. He tried to not appear too eager as Lady returned Nero to his arms. His baby settled against his chest comfortably, still staring at Lady.

“What are you going to do about him? He can’t live… here ,” she gestured grandly to the state of Devil May Cry , which functioned as both Dante’s office and his home. A run-down building with the power off most months, no air conditioning, and old pizza boxes and beer bottles everywhere. She felt a pang strike her heart, pressing her lips together to shut off any stray thoughts that wanted to escape. She couldn’t judge the obvious symptoms of depression that surrounded them.

Dante exhaled loudly, rubbing his cheek against the top of Nero’s head as he shut his eyes to prevent any tears from falling. A shaky sigh left his lips as he trembled slightly, cradling his candlelight in his arms- his nestling . Cracks formed in both his human and demon hearts at the mere thought of ever potentially being separated from his nestling, but Dante knew what he had to do.

“I… I know he can’t. I know I can’t raise a kid. I just… I just wanted more time ,” Dante answered honestly, no longer hiding his tears which fell to Nero’s hair like rain. “ He’s all I have , Lady.” He finally broke apart, breathing in that familiarity that hammered at his senses. He knew who Nero’s father was, and the separation was killing him. He’d lost his family, over and over, and was going to lose again-

“Hey, Dante, look at me.” Lady’s voice pulled him halfway out of his thoughts, her silhouette blurred by his tears. She cupped his cheeks, bumping their foreheads together. “You’re doing what’s right. You’re going to do what’s right. It’s what’s best for him.”

oOo

They had postponed the demon-hunting mission to take the day off. Dante dug himself deeper into debt with Lady, but for once, she didn’t get on his ass about it. It was a rare day of sunshine in September, with clouds on the horizon, but enough clear blue for a few hours in the city.

They had made an agreement. The day Dante was to give Nero up for adoption, they were going to fill the early hours of the day with entertainment and exploration for Nero. He was already a few months old, and had enough of an attachment to Dante that separation would be painful for the both of them.

He tried his first ice cream, and got to visit a park for the first time. Nero’s personality was as sunny as the weather, all sunshine and giggles. Dante couldn’t completely push down his feelings of dread and anxiety, but put up a front for his son. He wasn’t going to let Nero see him cry again.

As the sun began to set, Dante and Lady started making their way to one of the adoption agencies in the city. Dante was holding himself together with his outward appearance. Lady knew better, he’d already been broken.

A mess of tear-stained paperwork had completed most of the process. Handing Nero over was the only thing Dante had left to do.

He held his son in his arms for the last time, smiling as softly as he could manage. Nero must have known something was wrong, squirming in Dante’s arms as he began to cry.

“I’m so sorry, please… Please forgive me, Nero. I have to do this for you.” He left a kiss on Nero's forehead, his final, his goodbye. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

oOo

Dante threw himself into work without any sense of self-preservation. With Rebellion in his hands, he sliced through demons like wet paper. Alastor haunted him, a nagging presence at the back of his mind. He could feel some sort of connection to the blade he couldn’t place, his inner demon stronger in the company of the blade.

 He had followed Trish to Mallet Island, after she’d attacked him in Devil May Cry . It was nothing new, truly, demons barreling through his front door for a piece of him.

Hearing the name Mundus roll off her tongue had Dante shaking with poorly restrained rage. The same Demon King that Dante held responsible for slaughtering his mother, and burning his childhood home to the ground. Because the blood of Sparda flowed through his veins, which cursed him.

Dante didn’t mind losing his mind to clearing out demonic infestations, all the while flickering hallucinations reminded him of his identity. Trish warned him prior to her connection to Mundus, but Dante couldn’t be bothered to care.

She was a cheap imitation, crucified to a wall wearing his mother’s face.

Nelo Angelo’s identity as his precious twin had already broken Dante all over again. Vergil was dead, and he never knew- he never knew about Nero . Perhaps he saw the scar Dante sported, perhaps his mind only focused on the half of the amulet at Dante’s neck.

Mallet Island had become Dante’s nightmare, which he shoved his way through with brute force. Devil Sword Sparda helped to unlock his inner power, to take on the Demon King that had been his waking nightmare since his childhood.

Dante should have felt relief from taking Mundus’ life. A single demon that had taken his family away not once, but twice. He was empty, inside and out. He had postponed Mallet Island for as long as he could, a mere two months-

He left Alastor in Enzo’s care, the demon within the blade subdued, as annoying as it was.

He’d continue facing whatever hell was thrown at him, prepared to defend the human world to his last breath. His candlelight never left his mind, persistently wiggling into the back of his thoughts.

He was going to go into further debt from how many beers he needed to forget things for even only a night.

oOo

Fortuna Island

The scientists clamored together, comparing graphs and charts, all speaking about the newest test subject, a child with blue eyes and white hair. His eyes turned gold when subjected to demonic energy, and he was fully able to absorb higher levels than any of the other children around his age.

Nero - that was his name according to his papers, with no mother or father listed. At only three years of age, he had been ‘ adopted ’ by the Order, as one of the Knights claimed there had been something about Nero that stood out to him.

Surrounded by Holy Propaganda of the Dark Knight Sparda, Nero had been living a relatively lavish life outside of the labs, well cared for and enjoying his new sister’s company- Kyriè. They were very close by the time Nero was eight, near inseparable. 

Now with a needle in his arm to presumably draw blood, Nero stared at the blinding lights on the ceiling to ignore the pain shooting up his arm. The doctors said they had to run some tests , which had Kyriè worried there was something wrong with Nero.

They did show up at the door, demanding Nero to be handed over.

Nero’s enhanced hearing could pick up their chatter. These weren’t doctors concerned for his wellbeing, they were scientists of the Order- ones that specialized in Anti-demon weaponry, and studying demons. That made no sense to Nero- he was human, wasn’t he?

Nero kept lying to himself until he was fourteen. He’d been training in the Order, hoping to be on his way to become a proper Knight by the time he was sixteen. As he hit puberty, Nero’s physical appearance changed beneath his clothes- mainly his right arm, which he kept covered at all times and hid with a glove. 

His body ran hot, too hot. In the summertime near his birthday, Nero believed he was going to melt under direct sunlight. Kyriè was worried about him, which made Nero feel guilty- although whatever it was, wasn’t his fault. He can’t control the weird things his body does.

As any self-destructive teenager does, Nero sucked it up, and put on a brave front for Kyriè and Credo. He lashes out more often and breaks things when sent on solo missions. He tells himself it’s just his teenage hormones- despite knowing jack shit about how human puberty is because he never paid much attention in school.

His teeth sharpened to fangs, distancing his appearance from humans more than it already was. Nero couldn’t count the amount of times he’d bitten his tongue and tasted blood, only for it to quickly heal within seconds.

Nero could get shot and stabbed by humans. Nero could get impaled by demon claws, his flesh torn like cheap fabric- and he’d always heal. 

Most of his pay went to getting new uniforms. Nero didn’t want Kyriè to see him coming home soaked in blood, yet unharmed.

Nero could barely recognize his own reflection, long white hair almost reaching his shoulders, and his blue eyes that would flash gold whenever he was upset. The longer he stared at his own distinctly inhuman reflection, the more often his eyes were gold- just as his teeth were sharp, he kept his woes close to his heart. Barbed wire kept anyone from getting too close- Nero tried to stop himself from pushing Kyriè away, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

Another year passed, and Nero was drifting from humanity, he didn’t know who or what he was. The Order knew, but wouldn’t tell him. They always wanted his blood, they were always running tests- and once they found out about his arm, Nero couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t in constant pain.

Needles, syringes, scalpels, anything the scientists had on hand to pry off his scales, draw his blood, sap the demonic energy from his arm. Nero kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t tell Kyriè, he wouldn’t let Credo know anymore than he already did. Captain Credo .

Credo oversaw some of the procedures, viewing Nero like he was nothing but another demon in their containment. Nero wondered if Credo blamed him for his parents’ deaths. Maybe it had been the demonic blood in Nero’s body that drew the demons to their house that night, and almost cost them Kyriè’s life as well.

Nero couldn’t look at Credo any longer. A brother, a father, an enemy. He couldn’t look Kyriè in the eye and continue lying to her that everything was fine.

Nero took another solo mission, leading him to the outskirts of the island. He could let himself go, hide behind a tree, sitting on the forest floor. With his head in his hands, he sobbed.

Chapter Text

Nero scrubbed at his face, trying to erase the tear-stains on his cheeks. Red Queen was stuck in the dirt next to him, daring him to pick the blade back up. Her engine begged to be revved, she wanted to be heard by the nearby demon infestation. Empusas , essentially demonic ants from the Underworld. They were easy enough to deal with, only a minor pest. The queens of the hive, however…

He’d given himself enough time. Nero stood abruptly, yanking his sword from where he had left it. The sun was beginning to set, which meant he had run out of time to have his (mentally) mandated break-down time. The nest was located in an abandoned town on the outskirts of the island, one that hadn’t been inhabited longer than Nero had been alive. 

He made his way out of the forest, for once thanking his freak of nature night-vision for being able to see as if it’s daytime. He could see the crumbling buildings, and the gray organic structures built by the Empusas- pieces of their hive. Nero couldn’t pick up any sounds of movement- not a single one of the bastards was skittering about.

Nero’s hand flew to Red Queen’s handle, a finger on the trigger as he heard shuffling from one of the buildings. It wasn’t the signature click of the Empusas’ tarsi on the stone floors, it was the sound of someone’s shoes- heavy, leaning heavily on one leg with how their footsteps echoed. That had explained the lack of the drones in the town- someone had already cleared them out.

“Shit,” Nero cursed under his breath, ducking behind one of the buildings just as the person- man , came out of the building, flicking his blade to clean it of blood. Nero looked for a potential escape route, that man wasn’t a Knight of The Order. He wore the wrong colors, he was too disheveled, just as Nero was.

He saw a hole in the ground that would lead to their nest, a writhing, bloody mass- and Nero wasn’t about to let a stranger take credit for his mission. Without a second thought, Nero darted from his hiding spot and leaped into the hole, passing several drones on his way down.

He tumbled into a damp tunnel system, landing on his feet, yet his knees buckled and Nero hit the ground. Nero hissed as he heard the drones clicking their incisors together as they prepared to swarm him, pushing himself to stand as quickly as possible. His kneecaps were already healing from the impact, giving him the necessary edge he needed to have his sword ready.

Red Queen roared to life with her Exceed, and within seconds Nero spun to slice the head of one of the drones clean from the body. The headless body thrashed violently, the distinct crackling of crushed keratin as Nero swung again, Red Queen cutting through the Empusa from its right shoulder to its left hip, falling to the ground in two.

Nero activated the Exceed as he spun on his heel, the edge of Red Queen cutting one of the Empusa drones from the thorax to one of its legs, watching as it fell. It crawled on the ground on all three, intent on taking a bite out of Nero’s legs- which had him plunging the tip of his sword into the demon’s skull, clean through, metal hitting the hardened hive structure beneath the ant.

Nero continued his hack and slash method on at least a dozen of the Empusas, running down the corridor as he heard those human footsteps that followed a quiet thud. Whoever the man had been, clearly knew his way around demons, and peering over his shoulder Nero could see the man swinging a sword, cutting through the leftover Empusas like they were wet paper.

Nero ran as fast as he could, dodging demonic claws and incisors as he made his way deeper into the nest. He wasn’t running from the demons at this point, his white uniform stained red with demonic blood. He feared the man wearing red was hot on his heels, which had Nero frantic and making a fatal mistake-

He barreled directly into the queen’s quarters, amongst the eggs and freshly hatched Empusa larvae. His heart hammered in his chest as Nero panted, looking behind him for a moment too long. The man in red was nowhere to be seen- and soon Nero began wondering if he was ever there at all. There had been no signs of him taking out the Empusas, not that Nero had seen nor had he investigated- perhaps this was his mind crying for help.

Nero revved Red Queen’s engine as he refocused, putting his entire bodyweight behind his blows as he destroyed the eggs and larvae. He had yet to see the queen of the hive, which had him on edge, listening for any skittering. She should have been nearby, protecting her young.

Nero set the eggs ablaze, dragging the edge of his blade along the ground to shower a cluster of eggs with sparks. As the thin webbing roared to life, the larvae tried to wriggle away. Nero wet his lips with tongue, swallowing the saliva that had pooled on his tongue. Another sign of his inhuman heritage, the smell of burning flesh seemed to remind Nero he hadn’t eaten anything in two days.

He had traveled by foot, after all.

Nero spit on the ground, trying to focus through the haze of his hunger, unaware of the demon lurking out of sight. His mouth kept watering as he stared at the blaze, the smell of almost perfectly roasted meat reaching his nose. It was them again, daring him to sink his fangs into the seared flesh.

The queen scuttled from her hovel, clicking her mandibles together as she approached Nero. The cries of her children echoed in her simple mind, as grief washed over the demon. The Empusa may be no more than an animal from the underworld, but just as any other animal- it still had maternal instincts. Green Empusa swarmed her, little emerald fireflies hiding her ruby shine.

Nero saw the world in slow motion, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He stood back up, no longer squatting with his hand reaching for the flames. He saw the Green Empusas in the corners of his eyes, leaving their pollen for their fallen comrades, the drones that had already been consumed by the larvae. Amidst the flames slowly consuming the heart of the nest, the Queen stood to her full height, a grief-stricken cry leaving her.

Nero didn’t have the time to block the Queen’s claws with Red Queen, shouting in pain as one of her claws went through his abdomen, tearing the fabric of his trainee uniform and staining it with his blood. He felt the tip of her claw nick his spine, a second before his legs went completely numb. He tried thrashing in her grip, shaking his head as the queen of the hive brought him closer to her mouth.

Rows of teeth hidden by her mandibles, that clicked together in poorly concealed anticipation. Kyriè’s face flashed in his mind, her gentle smile, the warmth in her gaze as they talked about the newest thing she’d discovered in her studies.

Nero tilted his head, trying to stay as far away as possible from the queen, his blade clattering to the ground. The Empusa queen tore into his shoulder, her mandibles cutting close to his neck- a warning, a threat that she was going to eat him alive. Normally, Nero should have been beheaded.

“M-mom… mom, I’m… I’m sorry, please , don’t leave me again,” The feeling of nearly having his heart pulled from his chest reminded him of the muddiest of memories.

Nero’s blood coated the Queen’s fangs, his flesh empowered her, his sinew nourished her. Nero pawed weakly at the claws impaling him, trying to push her away. The queen responded kindly by crushing him between her mandibles, and Nero distinctly heard something snap . Nero closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose as he forced his body to relax.

He’d gone through heart-breaking pain before. He’d seen Kyriè and Credo’s parents die right before his very eyes- they had been drawn to their residence from the cursed, fiery blood running through his veins. The same blood that empowered this Empusa Queen, the gem-like protrusions on her body glowing a brilliant red.

Tears slipped from Nero’s eyes as he prepared to face death, stare it in the eye- or in this case, mouth. He thought about the life he never had, the life he’d always wanted. He loved Kyriè and had mixed feelings about Credo, considering their elder brother had overseen some of the experiments done on Nero-

But as he reached for the Queen’s eye, his right arm glowing, Nero used the power in his arm for the first time, clawing her with a burst of demonic energy. Nero knew he had demonic heritage, yet always feared it. Now, he was prepared to die.

Unwanted by a family he never knew, discarded by parents he never met. Left to be experimented on by heretics, cultists that worshipped their Savior , the Dark Knight Sparda.

Nero reared his arm back, channeling his rage, his hatred of humanity, his hatred of demons . He hated them all. He hated the demon who sired his bloodline, he hated the parents who had abandoned him. Nero swung his arm, taking a hit at the queen’s head, the chitin between her mutli-faceted eyes cracking . She stumbled, holding Nero in a crushing grip as she pulled her mandibles from his body. 

“If I’m going to hell, I’m taking you with me!” Nero unleashed his fury on the queen’s head, thick rivulets of her dark blood running down his scaled arm. She raised him, prepared to remove Nero’s head from his shoulders. Nero kept his eyes open as he channeled the energy in his arm- if his head was going to come off, so was the queen’s.

The queen stilled, a choking noise bubbling up from her throat as blood sprayed into Nero’s face. Her claw sliced through Nero just before she dropped him, and as he fell Nero watched her body split in half- a clean cut directly down the middle. She split in two, her halves clattered to the ground and twitched. Nero saw in slow motion once again, holding his middle as his muscles struggled to knit back together. He didn’t want to spill his internal organs all over the nest- but he knew it was an inevitable once he hit the ground-

Nero was caught a second before he hit the ground, hearing the man he thought he’d hallucinated earlier huff as his knees landed on the damp hive structure. His hand covered Nero’s eyes, while his other supported Nero from the back of his knees. His face was smushed between a thick bicep and an even thicker chest, where a frantic heartbeat pulsed within.

This man wasn’t disgusted by Nero bleeding all over him- maybe since he already wore red. His nose pressed to Nero’s hair- inhaling his scent like the finest meal had been presented to him. Nero could faintly smell the tell-tale signature sulphur of demonic blood running in the man’s veins, but muted- just like Nero’s. Another freak of nature, then.

The hand was removed from his eyes, only to move to support the back of Nero’s neck. Nero blinked, warily regarding the face of his savior- and was met with surprise.

A face that looked much like his own- blue eyes, silvery white hair- similar noses, except this man was clearly much older, with tears gathering at his eyes. He held Nero so gently, like he belonged there. The man pressed their foreheads together as he breathed softly, his body shaking- yet barely jostling Nero in his grasp.

“Don’t… don’t ya dare ever do that again.” Nero reached upwards to tangle his fingers in the man’s hair, tucking the silvery strands behind his ear so Nero could see the man’s face fully. Nero didn’t understand why he cared, but something told him to respond to his savior’s kindness.

“...Thank you, for… savin’ me.” Nero leaned against the man’s chest, shifting to alleviate some of the pain he felt. The man sniffled, his nose scrunching- just as Nero did the same once the man’s tears hit his cheeks. “I uh… I’ll be okay, I swear.” The man didn’t release him, and nor did Nero attempt to escape. He let himself be held, bask in someone else’s warmth- and within, the tiniest voice in his mind- the demon that always lingered- the blind rage that fueled it was calmed.

They remained like that for several minutes, as Nero’s accelerated healing attempted to fix the damage the queen had done to him. His hand eventually dropped from the red coat’s face, and the man had sat down to keep Nero in his lap. Nero essentially straddled him, a dark blush painting his cheeks- despite there seeming to be innocent intentions. He didn’t know what to do about arms wrapped around his waist, with someone’s face buried in his bloody shirt.

Listening to his heartbeat, like they were reminding themself many times over, Nero was still alive . Something possessed Nero to run his fingers through the man’s hair, reassuring him as best as he could- not that he understood why he had been crying.

Nero took the time to survey their surroundings- since when was it a ‘they’? - taking note of the carnage the man had managed to cause in that short moment when Nero had been dangling off the edge to death.

The Empusa Queen hadn’t been the only thing he’d taken out. The Green Empusa were nothing but bloody heaps of pollen and viscera, while the queen’s legs had also been cut off- although it was hard for Nero to determine, considering she had been cut in half- straight down the middle. 

“Hey, uh… are you goin’ to let me go anytime soon?” Nero half-heartedly asked, his demon didn’t want to be let go. The arms around his body tightened for almost a minute- it felt like a final hug, like a goodbye. Nero wanted to change the words that had come out of his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry,” the man let Nero go, his arms falling to his sides limply. Nero sat there for a few more seconds before he stood, hissing at the pain still shooting up his spine, and the pins and needles still assaulting his legs. His nerves hadn’t fully healed yet. “I’m Dante, by the way.”

Nero held out a hand for Dante to take, pulling him to his feet. Once they both stood, Nero shook Dante’s hand and introduced himself.

“Nero.” The look in Dante’s eyes told Nero that he already knew , but had made no comment. Nero swallowed the lump in his throat from his quickly building anxiety. Dante’s eyes looked so dead compared to a minute ago, like he was disconnected from reality. He wore a soft smile on his face, but the light never reached his eyes.

“Why don’t I walk ya back?” Dante did an exaggerated bow, waving his hand through the air, mimicking a butler. Nero pulled a face that had Dante chuckling as he stood to his full height once more. Dante scratched the back of his neck- his embarrassment felt too forced to Nero.

“Sure,” was the last word Nero expected himself to say, but the echo to his voice meant it wasn’t him speaking, but them- his demon that didn’t want to part from Dante just yet. Dante’s eyes flashed gold briefly, startling Nero. Dante squinted, and his grin grew wider, baring his fangs- Nero trembled as his nerve endings practically went up in smoke. Dante made an odd click with his tongue that sounded too much like a chittering squirrel for Nero’s comfort, which had Nero twitching. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, trying to get the sound out of his ears long after it had stopped.

Nero didn’t complain with his demonic hand being held in Dante’s- he didn’t complain about the thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand to offer comfort.

Nero couldn’t complain.

oOo

Dante had stayed true to his word- escorting Nero the entire way back to the city. Nero, of course, had remembered to pick up a piece of the Empusa Queen before they departed- he needed it to collect his bounty. Dante seemed reluctant to let go of Nero’s hand, demonic energy crackling into existence when Nero pulled his hand away.

His right arm felt… strange , alien to him, despite having lived with the side-effects of demonic manifestation for years. Holding Dante’s hand chased away the phantom pains, something Nero had been suffering from as of late. He, of course, always ‘failed’ to mention this to the doctors- (scientists)- and never told Credo or Kyriè. Nero didn’t want them to view him as any more of a monster than they already did.

As they approached the Order, Dante let go of Nero’s hand entirely, glaring at the glorified castle on the horizon. The queen’s mandible in Nero’s pocket felt like lead, the smell of his blood still coating the chitin. Nero shouldn’t care, but the demon coiled in the back of his mind sprung to life- offended, from something so simple , the lack of contact.

“You good?” The echo had returned to his voice, disconnected from his humanity once again. The demon within was still a child , not fully awake, they had yet to fully manifest. Their emotions however, strongly affected Nero. He felt like a child himself, grasping on the burning straws of his parent’s attention.

“I have some business to attend to. Take care of yourself, Nero .” Dante sounded like he was about to start crying with every shaky breath he took. He wore the softest smile he could manage, but for some reason the look in his eyes drove daggers into Nero’s heart. He only knew him for a few hours, it didn’t make sense-

“You too. Thanks.” The awakening demon within Nero wailed, grief-stricken to the point Nero’s hands couldn’t stop shaking. He cleared his throat nervously, waiting for Dante to leave.

Nero didn’t know why he cried once Dante left.

oOo

Nero turned in the queen’s mandibles, collecting his pay and a new uniform at the same time. He just wanted to go home, take a shower, and collapse in his bed after eating some of Kyriè’s cooking. He even wanted to be scolded by Captain Credo for his reckless behavior, even if it had been Credo to give him the solo mission.

Nero was stopped by one of the lab assistants, who held their clipboard close to their chest. He knew what that meant, sighing as he readjusted the folded uniform under his left arm. He said nothing as he followed the assistant, through the building and down the winding hallways until he’d reached one of the sub-floor levels.

Passing demons suspended in cryogenic liquid, some of which convulsed as Nero passed them. The assistant became more nervous by the second, until Nero was faced with a set of doors familiar to him since early childhood.

He stepped inside without complaint, shedding the uniform he wore until he was in nothing but his briefs. The researchers gestured for him to sit on the bed, which Nero did without complaint. He was their perfectly trained dog.

Scalpels went for his demonic arm, pulling the scales from his skin until he bled. Nero didn’t flinch, he was used to them removing his scales until he bled- and yet they still dug deeper. They drew blood from his human arm, vial after vial after vial-

Nero felt nothing. He blinked slowly as they placed an IV in his arm- anti-demon sedatives leaking directly into his veins. Nero didn’t fight them as one of the researchers pushed him down, their hand on his chest- so distinctly human it hurt to be reminded he was not.

Nero hoped they didn’t hear Dante’s name slip from his lips before he lost consciousness.

oOo

A mansion lit ablaze, frantic screams from within.

Ashes drifted through the air like snow, only char remained of the building.

A winding tower.

Home, a neon sign with several letters dimmed. 

Nero shook his head, fighting the haze. Soon he was standing on nothing, merely a black void surrounded him. His arm tingled, feeling too heavy. Nero flexed his fingers to alleviate some of the discomfort, but nothing worked.

It became hotter, until blue sparks came to life every time he moved his fingers. Nero raised his hand to stare at the glowing blue veins of his demonic arm, squinting as he scrutinized.

Leathery black and blue wings enveloped him, as large clawed hands took hold of Nero’s cheeks, tilting his head back. Nero regarded the demon with awe and confusion, they were beautiful, shining like a candle in the darkness.

The flames emitted from the demon’s horns had died to a mere flicker, their mouth hanging open as they sampled Nero’s scent with a huff. They eventually released their hold on Nero, seconds before they wrapped their arms around him. Like Dante, this one didn’t want to let go.

Nero opened his mouth to speak, only to choke on his horror that liquid had flooded his mouth, his lungs. The demon moved to cover Nero’s mouth, blocking anymore of the thick, cold liquid to slide down his throat. For a moment Nero could breathe, the demon’s other scaled hand roamed his body. A single claw traced the still-healing scars from Nero’s run-in with the queen-

“Wake up.” The demon’s voice echoed in Nero’s mind, just as light began to fill the space they occupied. Black turned to a midnight blue, becoming brighter by the second.

Nero realized they were in one of the cryogenic tanks- and he was floating near his own body, ethereal and unnoticed by the humans reading their charts. Nero felt disgusted, seeing himself bound with tubes coming out of his spine. He reached for his body, taking note of how his demon arm glowed.

Nero wanted to reconnect with himself, regain his lucidity and freedom. The demon released him, their hands lingering on his biceps, gently guiding Nero, giving him one final push to his body. He looked over his shoulder for the demon, searching their glowing eyes one last time.

There had only been regret.

oOo

Nero thrashed violently in his restraints, the metal creaking and groaning as he forced his hands apart. His vision may have been blurry, but Nero didn’t need glasses to see the warnings flashing on the screens- they had been pumping him full of demonic energy again, and these humans were surprised when it caused a reaction?

His demonic arm burned, as spectral energy gathered near his fist, causing the heavy biomechanical cuffs to crack from pressure. Nero knew it was fueled by his anger, so he looked at the object of his suffering. The Captain who glared at him from outside the tank, his hands clasped together behind his back. Judging him, viewing Nero as nothing more but another monster they kept under lock and key. It burned .

Nero’s scream made bubbles in the tank, seconds before the glass shattered. He landed to his feet, chest heaving and his hair sticking to his face as he stared at Credo . He roared as he lunged forward, the energy still flickering to life on his arm, claws extended-

Nero was stopped in his tracks by Credo’s sword cutting through his neck, stopping just shy of his spine. He gagged on his own blood, pouring from his mouth and down his chin. A single cough had a few specs landing on Credo’s polished, well-kempt uniform. He held the blade in Nero’s neck, his expression never wavering. There was none of the brotherly warmth left in his eyes.

“...Why?” Nero choked as he gasped for air, weakly grasping at the blade in his neck- Credo’s own Exceed weapon, a standard issue sword for Knights. He cut his palm, trying to dislodge Credo, but failed as he misjudged the strength he had left after escaping cryostasis.

“Silence, demon .” Demon ? No, Nero’s not one of them, he’s not a-

“What… the hell is… this, Credo? Why… did you… ice me?” Nero let his pain bleed into his voice, the weight of Credo’s betrayal becoming ethereal hands clawing at his heart.

“You were too young to understand, Nero . Why you were brought here, why I didn’t remove your head once demons slaughtered my family. You can’t be this foolish, can you? Look at yourself, boy.” Credo twisted the blade before removing it from the side of Nero’s neck, which had him scrambling to cover the wound with his hand.

Credo grabbed Nero by the jaw, forcing the shorter man to look him in the eye. He felt nothing as Nero’s tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You have the blood of the Savior in your veins, it’s all that’s keeping you alive. It is all that makes you worthy to be here. You are a filthy, disgusting half-breed, wearing the face of an innocent child while barely keeping your demonic instincts in check. You want to know why I had you put in stasis, Nero?

Look at the damage you’ve caused, from one little tantrum. You are an uncontrollable variable. You are old enough to learn the truth, Nero .” Credo threw Nero to the floor, watching as his body skidded and left a bloody trail.

“Your real training starts soon, little demon. I will make you obedient, I will have you properly trained for Ascension.”

Chapter Text

Fortuna, One Year Later

“As you can see, we have a plethora of obedient dogs at our disposal.” Credo paced the clean hallway, his blade drawn and pointed at the ground as he passed the Order’s newest pet project - subjugation of individuals with demonic heritage. He passed Nero, not even looking at the boy, but tilting the blade in his hand to point at Nero’s feet.

“I see you are sparing nothing, Captain. Well done.” Credo puffed his chest with the praise, galavanting down the hallway like an ostentatious peacock - discussing the new project well into the next hallway.

Inspection was over, yet not a single test subject moved. Nero strained himself to listen to Credo’s distant words, knowing until he returned they were not to move. Correction, until he deemed them fit to move. Nero waited in line patiently, like he had been taught. Just like they had all been taught.

Minutes passed, turning begrudgingly into at least an hour. Credo once again strode inside of the room, the half-demons straightening their spines and standing at attention. He stopped in front of Nero, tilting his head and glancing in Nero’s direction.

“Meet me in my office, Nero.” The young squires were dismissed, all scattering to their own devices. Nero trailed behind Credo, as his ‘brother’ was walking in the direction of his office. Credo unlocked the door and ushered Nero inside, closing and locking it behind him. Nero didn’t have to turn around to know what Credo was doing or what he wanted- he could tell by Credo’s shadow he was loosening his tie. 

Nero didn’t have to be told twice. He shed his upper layers without complaint, folding them and placing them neatly on Credo’s desk. His socks and undergarments quickly followed, until Nero was left standing completely naked in Credo’s office, staring at a bookshelf.

“Turn around, Nero.” Nero obeyed, looking up at Credo through his lashes. His lip trembled against his will as Credo brushed Nero’s hair with his fingers, tucking a few strands behind his ear to expose his beautiful, shining blues. Credo wiped away his tears, looking deceptively human in that moment of vulnerability.

“You’ve become so beautiful.” The unspoken- the perfect creation- lingered in the air between them, only Credo’s heated breath against Nero’s neck. Nero avoided his brother’s gaze, shying away even as the grip on his jaw turned forceful. “You will not look away. I want to see you.” Nero obeyed easily, his heart hammering in his chest with every shaky breath he took.

“Credo, I…” He was silenced by Credo’s lips slotted against his, Nero’s words dying on his tongue. His defiance simmered beneath the surface, pain erupting in his fangs.

“Only I may have you. Were you to be touched by another… they would only defile you, Nero.” Credo released Nero’s jaw, his hands roaming the scar-free flesh with reverence. He leaned in, his lips ghosting the shell of Nero’s right ear, just as his nails scraped down Nero’s chest. “They wouldn’t worship you as I do.” Nero took a step back, the edge of Credo’s desk hitting his lower back. He let himself be guided, gentle hands pushing him to lay down, his legs hanging off the edge.

Credo didn’t have to fight Nero to spread his legs apart, fingers trailing down his abdomen to play with the patch of stark white hair. Nero bit his bottom lip to silence himself, a final act of defiance- unwilling to give Credo the cries of pleasure he desired. Credo knew he would break sooner than later, as his fingers drifted lower, ignoring Nero’s half-erect cock to find his cunt just below. Nero’s folds were already slick from both fear and arousal, something his body had learned to associate with Credo.

Credo did not take to Nero’s defiance lightly, his grip on Nero’s hip punishing, just as his fingers grazed Nero’s clit only once, startling him just as Credo pushed two fingers inside.

“Disobedience won’t be tolerated.” Nero earned a harsh tug to his cock, while Credo’s fingers of his other hand continued to explore his cunt, short fingernails scraping his walls only for them to heal just as fast as the scratches had been made. Nero’s sharp cry was exactly what Credo wanted, just as he scissored the half-demon open, drawing more deliciously broken sobs from his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry… I won’t… I won’t do it again.” Nero avoided looking at Credo and what he was doing, preferring to look up to the tall ceiling and remember how to breathe . Credo continued to draw a mix of pain and pleasure from him- this was their norm. Credo didn’t have to scissor Nero open- he’d only ever used his hands, but Credo insisted it was to prepare Nero- preparation for what’s to come.

Credo crooked his fingers, hitting the spot that had Nero’s back arching off the desk against his will, just as Credo constricted his cock like a boa. Halting one half of his lazy, too-quick climax, just as he accelerated the pace of his fingers in Nero’s cunt. Nero’s walls fluttered around Credo’s fingers, just as his thumb brushed Nero’s clit- causing Nero to gush around his fingers and onto Credo’s palm just as a choked moan left his lips.

After three harsh tugs to his cock, Nero’s seed splattered onto his lower stomach and on Credo’s hand, leaving him panting and near breathless. Credo inhaled deeply, a shudder traveling up his spine. Nero always smelled divine , and as he brought his fingers to his mouth, the taste was just so. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor on his tongue, an aphrodisiac for humans, sending blood south.

Nero waited , legs still splayed. While Credo rode his own high, Nero looked at a few of the scattered papers on Credo’s desk. He saw his own name and identification number, but what piqued his interest was a last name listed- one Nero didn’t have before.

Sparda .

oOo

Nero cleaned and dressed himself like nothing had happened. His heart hammered in his chest as the name of the Dark Knight repeated in his head. Sparda was worshipped on Fortuna- Sparda was their savior, the one that the hierarchy strived to be like, believing they were divine, an ultimate lifeform.

Nero did not share blood with divinity. Nero was an unwanted child, tossed aside and taken to Fortuna. Nero was a test subject, he was blessed to even be alive, with a curse running through his veins, materializing as his demonic right arm. The doctors called it divine, and said Nero was blessed.

Nero’s only blessings were when he was given solo missions, clearing out demonic infestations. Such lowly creatures were not worthy of Fortuna, they were not revered. They were pests. Nero was simply a pest.

Nero refused to believe himself special, just as his other half-breed peers were not special . Nero may have had white hair, but that meant nothing. His blood was tainted, vile. He smelled of sulfur, of hell itself.

Nero knew it then, as he stumbled down the hall further away from Credo’s office. The Order was fucking insane.

oOo

Three Months Later

Nero swallowed the pill cocktail one of the doctors had presented to him without complaint. He accepted the small plastic cup of water to wash them down, gagging at the chalky taste on his tongue. Nero didn’t question what the doctors were giving him, he’d been fed pills for as long as he could remember.

The taste was different this time. The tip of his tongue tingled where his saliva had already partially broken down one of the pills, leaving an acrid flavor behind. Looking up from the doctor’s white coat to their face, she wore an uncanny, almost unblinking smile. Her fangs were just a little too long, her smile too wide, her eyes hazy and unfocused. Nero squinted at her features, blinking, the woman once again looking normal, like she hadn’t been a demon poorly concealed in human flesh only a few seconds prior.

“Is everything alright, Nero?” Nero nodded, already feeling numb as he shoved down his anxiety.

“Yes, ma’am.” The doctor gave Nero a once-over, inspecting him from afar before scribbling something on her clipboard. She must have cleared Nero for duty, ushering him off the exam table and out of the room.

“Try to get some rest, you look a bit tired.” Nero answered her by waving without looking back, leaving the blindingly bright room and entering an equally white and headache-inducing hallway. He wanted to get out of the fake ‘hospital’, which was just an underground laboratory. 

Several minutes of the fastest walking pace Nero could manage without it being running in the halls, Nero finally reached the ground floor. On his way to ‘work’ he had to swing by home , to pick up both Blue Rose and Red Queen.

Demon infestations were becoming more common on Fortuna, which had the Order on edge. Nero was dispatched just as often, if not more , than the Knights. His strength came in handy, his unnatural healing abilities made him disposable. With the Red Queen at his back, Nero made his way to the outskirts of the city once again, near a small town bordering the forest.

There had been reports of a demon nest within a church , of all the ironic places that they could be found. 

Nero followed familiar old cobbled roads, putting on his headset and slipping one of his burned CDs into his portable CD player. He hummed along to the heavy metal blasting in his ears, hand firmly gripped on Red Queen’s handle. She begged to be revved, and he obliged. He knew if the music blaring from his headset didn’t alert the demons, Red Queen certainly would. Her chipped edge begged for blood, glinting in the moonlight and ready to sing and scream.

The grotesque creatures crawled down the walls from the roof, some out of the broken windows as they converged on Nero like a swarm. Nero was quick on his feet, dancing amidst the crowd to the beat. His left foot tapped seconds before he swung his sword through the air, cleaving one of the demons in half from the waist. He rewarded her with another rev, her motor springing to life with sparks as blood coated the blade.

Nero swung the blade one-handedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the bloody rain pelted him from the not-too-high heavens. Bursts of flames and charred corpses were left in his wake as he approached the large wooden doors whistling. Nero had the audacity to knock on the door, before kicking it open.

The heavy oak doors opened with a groan, hinges creaking as dozens of sets of eyes focused on him. Unblinking, unfocused for only a moment, Nero paused in the doorway, Red Queen still pointed to the sky as blood rolled down her pommel. The overbearing smell of demon blood was making Nero dizzy, an unnerving pang of hunger causing him to stumble from the pain. He had felt worse. Nero had gone through worse.

Looking at the sea of demons in front of him, all Nero saw was a six-course meal. He felt his fangs cut into his bottom lip, saliva pooled on his tongue as he tasted his own blood. Steadying himself against the doorframe, Nero shifted Red Queen’s weight in his palm. They were ready, leaping into the fray with a burst of flames that propelled Nero forward.

He bit and clawed his way through a small pack of demons, tearing through heated flesh with his teeth. Nero spat out each piece, a shred of his humanity still defiant. Blood coated his fangs, his lips, his sword. He drank deep of demonic blood, tongue swiping over his fangs. Their blood certainly wasn’t high quality , but here on Fortuna, they didn’t exactly have a surplus of higher class demons.

A bullet whirred past Nero’s ear, causing him to fumble his sword and lodge it into one of the rotting pews. His head snapped in the direction of the gunshot, seeing a man in red wielding dual pistols and dispatching demons thrice the speed Nero had. Each bullet was charged with demonic energy- some of the demon’s heads exploded , coating their kin in their blood and viscera.

Nero cursed under his breath as he dislodged Red Queen from the wood, snapping the bench in the process. The time it had taken to free his sword was enough for another group of demons to swarm him, but all the ones that had been behind him were dispatched by the mysterious figure from afar. They had left Nero with enough of his dignity to cleave through the demons in front of him and at his sides, despite constantly snagging Nero’s attention.

Nero didn’t need sunlight to see. The moonlight peeking through the holes in the roof and shattered stained glass was enough for Nero to see. He moved as quickly as he could, frantically as the demons crawled up from broken floorboards. He didn’t see the man in red drawing his blade, after firing several more bullets that felled demons in a single shot.

Nero noticed once the man’s back was pressed to his, daring to look over his shoulder to see the stupidest fringe he had seen in his life- and he had bangs . The white haired man- he recognized him- Dante , grinned smugly. He had put his pistols away, wielding a sword that had a demonic aura with a skull on the hilt. Nero had to give him a shred of respect, Dante had style.

“Isn’t it past your bed time?” Nero elbowed Dante just before he brought the Red Queen close to block a demon’s claws. “Ya know, we really gotta stop meetin’ like this. I feel like I’m always savin’ your ass.”

“Fuck off!” Dante only chuckled as used his blade to block a demon’s attack and sent the energy back to them, blowing their head off of their shoulders. Nero resisted gagging as he shot down one of the Felbats with Blue Rose . The two shots echoed in the church, the remaining demons beginning to circle the duo. Nero couldn’t see what Dante was doing, but he knew whatever the other man was doing, it was effective . It wasn’t a competition, because if it was, Nero had already lost. He cut down the remaining demons with an annoyed huff, spitting on one of the corpses as they began to disintegrate.

“Where’s your unit, kid?” Nero couldn’t remember when he started circling Dante, his eyes flickering to the obnoxious show of cleavage.

“Did the Order send you?” Dante hummed, placing a hand on his hip as he sighed. He tapped one foot irritably, tilting his head back as he dramatically groaned. Nero’s grip on Red Queen tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Did they die already?” Nero came up on Dante’s left side, sniffing him from afar. The sense of familiarity returned, along with Nero’s confusion.

“I don’t have a unit, I am the unit.” Dante spun on his heel to face Nero, causing the teen to stumble and almost fall, but Dante grabbed him by the collar and kept him from unceremoniously meeting the floor.

“Hey, I don’t think I heard ya right… They send ya alone ?” Red Queen slipped from Nero’s grasp, clattering to the floor as he reached with his demonic arm to grip at Dante’s wrist. He applied enough pressure that any normal human’s bones should have broken.

“I’m always alone.” Dante hissed as he released Nero like he had been burned. Nero pushed himself up by his elbows, scooting back on the floor as rage briefly flickered on Dante’s features. He schooled himself after a low growl left his throat and his fangs were bared, enough to have Nero’s inner demon panic .

Nero rolled over to crawl away, his claws digging into the rotting floorboards as he scrambled to find one of the pillars to hide behind. His legs refused to cooperate, and Dante stalked him like prey . Nero didn’t want Dante to be mad at him, although he couldn’t understand why. They had only met twice now-

“C’mere baby, you’re not in trouble.” Nero whimpered, as he pushed his body as close to the pillar as he could. Dante’s soft, almost motherly tone had frozen the blood in his veins, and it took all of Nero’s effort to remember how to breathe.

Dante crossed the minute distance between them, squatting next to Nero and placing a hand on top of his head. He ran his fingers through Nero’s messy hair, removing his headphones that had barely stayed on his head.

“Nero, look at me.” Nero obeyed, he was a good dog. He looked up at Dante through tear-stained lashes, a shiver crawling up his spine when Dante’s sleeve brushed his ear. He shouldn’t be seeking comfort from someone he didn’t know- but fuck , Nero hadn’t been treated gently in years , if not his whole life . Dante seemed to know everything Nero wanted, finally sitting next to him and pressing their shoulders together.

Nero wanted to be squished . Dante obliged without complaint, until their cheeks were pressed together and Dante was able to nuzzle him. Nero wanted to drown himself in Dante’s scent, something sweet and painfully familiar that he couldn’t get out of his head. Dante’s stubble may have been itchy, but Nero couldn’t care. Dante was warm, Dante was soft enough it didn’t hurt.

Nero melted into his touch and allowed himself to be pulled away from the pillar he had been holding onto. His claws made an audible click as he caught the edge of the pillar. Dante lifted Nero like he weighed nothing, settling him into his lap. Strong arms wrapped around him and Nero felt small .

Nero let himself be held. He didn’t want to leave, especially once he could both hear and feel the low, gentle vibrations in Dante’s chest. He was purring , a noise Nero tried to copy but was broken by hiccups and too high-pitched.

“Why don’t we blow this joint?” Dante whispered in his ear, his breath fanning Nero’s neck and leaving goosebumps.

“Huh?” Nero tried to shift in Dante’s arms, which had him being squeezed. Nero went still, only to tilt his head back to meet Dante’s gaze. He didn’t look sad this time.

“Leave. Fuck Fortuna. Fuck the Order . Run away? With me?” Nero’s waited his whole life to hear those words. His exhale was full of hope, as the lights came on upstairs. The wheels of his mind began to turn, as he imagined freedom he had never been offered.

Nero nodded shakily, although he couldn’t tell what part of him agreed, perhaps a whole . The island wouldn’t fall apart with him gone, surely?

Chapter Text

Nero had been on the ferry before, but never without knowing where he was going. Dante sat against a pile of neatly stacked crates, arms crossed as he looked over to the horizon. Fortuna’s fading silhouette, that Nero couldn’t tear his eyes from. He couldn’t stop thinking that the Order knew . They were going to come after them, going to take Nero back, collar him and slice him apart for his disobedience. Half-demon soldiers were not supposed to leave the island. Nero wondered what Credo would do to him knowing Nero had agreed to leave.

He pulled his hood up and curled tighter around himself, sniffling against the rough fabric of the pants he had borrowed from Dante. Dark blue scratchy material that Nero thought were jeans. He had heard about them, and it was miserable for his cheeks.

“Relax, nothin’s gonna happen.” Dante may have said that, but his eyes never left the horizon. Nero wasn’t used to seeing the harsh lines and furrowed brows as Dante regarded Fortuna with a gaze full of malice, fangs bared in a sneer.

“You’re not making it convincing.” Nero stared at Dante through his hair, watching Dante go through the five stages of grief before placing an unnaturally wide grin on his face. Dante wore it like armor. Nero had been stripped of his, laid bare without the Order’s insignia and propaganda on display. He was his own person , not the Order’s pet. Dante made sure to remind him of that.

Nero threw himself across the distance between them, taking the first window once Dante had his arms wide open for him. The older man’s scent and warmth calmed Nero, and he was more than happy to bury his face into Dante’s coat. Dante held him without complaint, content with wrapping himself around Nero.

His inner demon was beside themself with him being with his nestling again. Dante allowed his eyes to close, finally tearing his gaze from Fortuna. He let himself fall asleep, his senses blanketed in Nero’s scent and the sound of his heartbeat. Dante’s dreams juggled between memories and nightmares, as they always did.

oOo

He had seen a ghost. He was older, very much so alive, and he had been there. Cold, distant and calculated, as he summoned the Temen-ni-gru, and gave Dante one of the worst times in his life. Dante was seeing ghosts.

Dante’s soul cried for reunion, and Vergil’s did not answer. With his own sword through his body, Dante stared down and defied death, quickly realizing words would never work with this Vergil. He could never talk it out with his brother.

Vergil was different, he mocked Dante for his ignorance, calling him naive, their gazes locked as their blades clashed. Vergil was… distracted, despite often using brutality against Dante, he avoided damaging him too much. Dante could heal, so why was it an issue?

“You don’t know, do you?” Vergil had him pinned to the ground- again. Yamato’s edge was pressed against his throat, drawing blood as he kneeled atop Dante. “You poor thing.” His gaze drifted downwards, which had Dante squirming and trying to push Vergil off. Something inside him snapped, as he bit his lip and tasted blood.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He squeaked as Vergil’s heel pressed into his stomach, his entire body stilling as he didn’t dare to draw breath.

“What was it you said earlier, Dante? ‘Come home,’... and ‘we can be a family again.’ You don’t need me. You never have. You’re the one who should run along, crawl back to whatever hovel you call home. Stay out of this. It is none of your business.” Vergil relieved Dante of the pressure, ripping Rebellion from his chest before he tossed the sword.

“What… no. No, no, no,” Dante shook his head, forcing himself to stand as he pointed his blood-stained blade in Vergil’s direction. He didn’t understand, he knew this. He would force it out of Vergil if he had to. “What bullshit are you on? Of course I need you. I’ve been looking for you for years!”

“You should have given up, little brother.” Dante couldn’t recognize the ‘brother’ in front of him. This was Vergil, but it wasn’t his Vergil.

“And since when did you care about what condition I’m in? Sure as shit didn’t give a single fuck when we were kids.” Vergil sneered as he entered a stance that Dante had learned over the past month. Judgement Cut, he called it?

“You never learn, do you? Do I have to cut you open myself?” Bile rose in Dante’s throat as he readied Rebellion, the sword acting as a shield in front of his body. That demonic voice in his head begged him to submit, to stop, he couldn’t get hurt. He couldn’t hurt them. Who were they?

“If you know what’s wrong with me, just spill it already.” Pity flashed on Vergil’s features again, and Dante wondered if he’d even follow through. Vergil made no move to attack, breathing harshly through his nose. Vergil’s opponent wasn’t Dante, they were imaginary, the waking nightmares he saw that taunted him, their voices echoing and drowning out Dante’s words.

“I have nothing to tell you. I have nothing to teach you. You’ll understand, soon. Take this mercy and leave.” Dante wanted to protest, to scream, to beg Vergil to stay. He should have been the one to stay in the Underworld, not Vergil.

“Please… don’t leave me again.” Vergil has to stay. Vergil can’t leave again. Dante won’t allow it. Dante didn’t understand, but his body did. It only took Vergil a few steps to have Dante backing away from the crumbling portal, Yamato’s edge barely catching the frayed edge of his coat. His mind continued to protest as Rebellion fell from his hand, cutting his hand as he held onto the Yamato.

“You’ll have someone else. Take care of them. Love them like you loved me. Forget about me, Dante. This is for your own good.” Vergil ripped Yamato from Dante’s grip, kicking him back. Dante’s knees buckled- he wasn’t that weak. He shouldn’t be that weak. Why, why why why?

Dante couldn’t scream as he watched Vergil leap from atop the tower. He could only hold onto the edge of the crumbling stone, as the portal swallowed his brother and closed. Temen-ni-gru was falling. It was crumbling, it had failed, it had broken his heart all over.

Vergil wasn’t done with him, it seemed. Vergil was right, Vergil was always right, Vergil wouldn’t get out of his head. He could hear him. He lectured Dante often. His eating habits, to stop drinking himself to an early grave.

When he had finally begun to show, he hated their child. He hated Vergil’s absence, that this… being, had separated them. Without them, Dante would have been strong enough to follow Vergil. His brother would not have pushed him away. Dante continued to lie to himself, that it was only a dream.

He was not weakened. His demon was not torn between agony at the loss of their mate- when had Dante dared to claim Vergil as his? His demon wanted to keep the child. So Dante protected them. He kept his demon-hunting jobs to a minimum, hiding himself with his coat so Lady would not notice. So his clients would not notice.

Dante stopped taking jobs on the streets, he stopped himself from relapsing to drug usage. He could play the good boy for their child. He could pretend for long enough. He fell apart more often than not in his bathtub, soaking in scalding water that the child- demon blood running through their veins- liked.

Dante cried himself to sleep at night. Dante seethed in rage, tore his apartment to shreds. The picture of his mother was untouched, the only thing left that he still deemed sacred.

Shortly before Nero was born, Dante’s opinion changed. Vergil’s words still echoed in his head. Always haunting him, always taunting him, with featherlight touches against his neck as commands were whispered in his ear. Dante was seeing ghosts.

He wanted to give Nero away from the moment he was born, but those ghosts had already broken him. His demon had broken him. This was his nestling, he shall keep them, he shall care for them, and he will not complain. To part would mean death. The child would not survive on his own, he was too young, he was too weak. Imbalanced, sickly whenever he was apart from Dante.

He did it to himself. Dante did this, he tortured himself for months on end before Lady talked him into giving Nero away. This was logical, this was human, this was the right thing to do. His candlelight, his nestling, must be set free. He would be fine. Nero would be fine, Dante would be fine. He did not need his mother if he had a human to raise him. Nero would be safe, far away from demons, far away from the danger.

Lies. They were all lies.

oOo

Dante and Nero had slept almost the entire eighteen hour ride to Redgrave. The captain had slept while docked at Fortuna, and he was known to easily pull all-nighters. They had been blissfully aware- if only in Nero’s case- upon arrival. Until the captain did his thing .

“Redgrave! Get off, ya scum.” The ship’s captain kicked Dante awake by assaulting his shins, earning a flurry of curses from him. Nero awoke slowly, stretching languidly like a cat.

“Are we there yet?” Nero yelped as Dante lifted him by the back of his shirt, slung over Dante’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Excuse you, I can walk.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care.” Dante handed the cash over to the ship’s captain, the elderly man tilting his hat and dropping the gangplank with a decrepit huff. Dante had worked with the man plenty of times before, he knew better than to say anything about whatever- or whoever- Dante had with him.

They had arrived at Redgrave’s port during nighttime, roughly midnight. Dante refused to set Nero on his feet, carrying him the entire way to his ‘business establishment’. Nero expected to be dropped like a bundle of rocks as Dante struggled with his key to the front door, and lo and behold, he dropped Nero on the floor.

“I told you I could have walked, the fuck was that for?!” Dante ignored him as he closed the door behind himself, turning the lock slowly. Nero’s mouth snapped shut as he watched Dante scrub his face furiously, his face red and his cheeks tear-stained. Dante slid to the floor, curling into a tight ball, his knees close to his chest.

“Is this just another nightmare? I don’t even know if you’re… you’re fuckin’ real . I coulda been doin’ fuck-all for the past year .” Nero had to strain himself to hear Dante, and opted into crawling on the floor to settle himself at Dante’s side. The older man glanced at him briefly, confused and grief-stricken features driving a dagger in Nero’s chest.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’re out of there. You got me out, and… I didn’t really thank you for that yet. So, uh…” Nero pressed their shoulders together, listening to the way Dante’s breath caught in his throat. A single hiccup was Dante’s answer- he let himself be guided by Nero’s hands, as that demonic hand wiped away his tears. With a trembling hold, Nero pressed his lips to Dante’s forehead, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see . A tear fell down his cheek, as he pressed their foreheads together. Dante was feverishly warm, it was his blood, his nature. The same blood running through Nero’s veins- he knew now, he had known but refused to acknowledge.

“ Thank you for saving me .” 

oOo

Dante hadn’t prepared Nero for meeting Lady or Trish, since he didn’t know Lady would randomly pop by six days later during a movie-binging session Dante and Nero were doing. Dante just had to introduce Nero to the classics , as he called them, since the poor boy had never seen a cartoon in his life due to Fortuna’s strict foreign censorship policies. Honestly, it was disgraceful.

Lady had a key to Devil May Cry . She slammed open the door for dramatic flair, easily dodging the empty beer bottle thrown at her head. She was likely here to bother Dante about his debt- which he knew he had to get to paying off eventually , but all he wanted right now is to be left alone.

“Dante! Where the hell have you been, you’ve been ghosting me for a year and-” Lady’s words died on her tongue, her eyes glued to Nero, huddled on the couch in a large blanket with corgi motifs all over it. “Who the hell is this?”

Nero waved at her- Dante was dead. He’s so fucking dead.

“Hi.” Nero shrank at the weight of Lady’s gaze upon him, if looks could kill- he would have died many times over. He pulled the blanket over his head until nothing but his nose was peeking out.

“I’m going to ask again, Dante . Who the hell is this?” Lady practically stomped over, flopping herself onto the worn couch with a huff. Memories must have flashed briefly, as she grimaced and straightened her spine to sit back up.

“I’m Nero.” Dead . Dante would be found in a bodybag behind a dumpster. Lady’s neck would have snapped from the speed of which she turned her head had she been more of a fragile human. The muscles beneath her thin white shirt rippled as her arms flexed- she leaned forward to give Dante her best glare.

“ That Nero, Dante? Is this some kind of joke?” Nero was torn between looking at Dante or Lady, his head swiveling in confusion.

“Yes. He’s that Nero. Don’t look at me like that! Ya don’t know what the Order was doin’ to him. I had to get him out.” Lady scrutinizing vanished as she sighed, loud and enunciated.

“Order of the Sword? Yeah, those crazy bastards suck. I don’t want to think what they’d do to a half-breed with the blood of Sparda running in his veins. Ugh, I’m gonna be sick, I am thinking about it.” Nero blinked innocently, leaning into Dante’s side to pull a surprised chirp from him. Lady cracked one eye open as she viewed the two of them, resigning herself to this fate.

“I think ‘suck’ is too nice of a word for the Order.” Nero chewed his lip as both eyes were upon him. “They’re fuckin’ insane.” His distress was immediately noticed by Dante, who placed an arm over his shoulder and pulled him closer. Conflict flashed on Lady’s features as she looked away, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“This doesn’t even count as bringing home a stray , Dante. This feels like a cat that got neutered picking up a kitten from the street.” Dante opened his mouth to retort, fingers pinching the hem of his shirt. Nero didn’t understand, so he kept his mouth shut.

“You better take care of him this time.”

“I will.”

oOo

Nero met Trish on his first demon-hunting gig with Dante- he felt weird to be in a party with three other people- it wasn’t like he was an adventurer . He was used to hunting demons alone, something both Trish and Lady specifically lectured him for. Trish was almost beside herself upon meeting him, sniffing Nero’s hair and Dante’s neck repetitively. Nero, of course, was creeped out- constantly being sniffed and wary whenever Trish was behind him. Lady said to not mind her, the demon was just getting to know him- which had Nero reeling . Demon-hunting… with a demon?

Two women and someone Nero was starting to believe is his mother , treating him like glass and insisting he doesn’t have to fight the demons they were tasked with clearing out. Nero felt like he had to prove them wrong, to prove himself and Red Queen’s capability, she was a good blade.

She had an engine, theirs did not, therefore, Red Queen was the coolest - until Nero saw Kalina Ann . He stopped trying to show off after that.

Nero managed to prove himself, however, by slicing through demons in record time- he felt weird, but he wasn’t going to talk about it. The demonic energy in his arm had been surging ever since he left the island, left Fortuna- and he used it to his advantage. He clawed through demons and cleaved through them with the Red Queen. Blue Rose was his go-to for distant targets, earning a sharp whistle from Trish.

“Well, they certainly trained you well, if not a bit aggressive. You’re just like your mama.” The tips of Nero’s ears went red, as did Dante’s face. Trish grinned and bared her fangs as she watched Dante sputter and choke on his saliva before punching a Riot in the face. “Nice gun you got there, though.”

“Uh… thanks, it’s a custom.” He shifts Blue Rose’s weight in his palm, showing the double barreled pistol to Trish. She was taller than him- leaning down to inspect the silver pistol. She hummed, and Nero felt like she understood it more than he did.

“Delayed shots? From the sound, it certainly doesn’t seem like both fire at once.” Nero nodded numbly, feeling the heat creep down his neck. He refused to look at her poorly contained cleavage, breasts pushed together by leather and held in place by the laces.

“Trish, leave him alone.” Dante slung an arm over Nero’s shoulder, pulling the poor teen into another set of cleavage- enunciated by the leather strap over his chest. Nero was dying inside.

“Aw, what, mommy’s jealous?” Dante growled- he growled at Trish, the reverberation enough to make Nero’s teeth clack together. Trish returned his threat with a hiss, causing a shiver to crawl up Nero’s spine. He sighed as he pushed the two apart, his claws grasping weakly at Dante’s bangs and his human hand at Trish’s neck.

“Will you two stop? It’s… fuckin’ weird. And it makes me feel weird. Just fuck off.” Trish grinned like she had just been fed a secret, while Dante stopped breathing with Nero’s hand on his face. To Nero’s disgust, Dante licked him. He yanked his hand away before wiping it on Dante’s shirt, sticking his tongue out.

“Well, I’ll get back to work now. You two have fun.” Trish spun on her heel, waving at them from over her shoulder as she picked up her blade from a demon’s corpse. She wasted no time in getting back to ‘work’, cutting through demons and shocking them from the lightning that came from her fingertips.

“Don’t mind her, she’s… somethin’.” Nero looked up to Dante, sliding his arm into Dante’s coat and pawing at the back of his shirt with his claws.

“And what the hell was that? You looked like a feral dog for a bit there.” Dante chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck, electricity climbing up his spine from Nero’s hand at the curve of his back, right above his ass.

“Oh, uh? I don’t know, really.” Nero pinched Dante’s hip, earning a squeak from the older man. Soft .

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“...I always have been.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean, he’s gone ?!” Credo slammed his fists on the table, regarding a few of the other knights with a gaze full of fury and suspicion. “Which one of you was keeping tabs on his latest mission? Someone was supposed to be following him, damn it!” It hadn’t been Credo’s turn, he was busy with paperwork, he was busy with a few of the other half-demon test subjects in the lab. Someone had slacked.

Many sets of eyes turned upon the knight with his arm in a sling, covered in bandages and gauze. He sniffled wetly through his healing nose.

“There was someone who aided in his escape. A son of Sparda . Dante has been on this island, and I’ve been trying to discern his intentions for the past year ! But he’s a slippery, if not powerful bastard, and made sure there were no witnesses. My squad is dead . I barely escaped with my life. His target had been the half-breed all along, this much is clear.” The words slipping from the knight’s mouth could be counted as sacrilege, if in another setting, perhaps with the elders, it would mean his death.

“ Dante Sparda ? What would one of the sons of our Savior want with Nero?” Credo chewed on one of his fingernails, furrowing his brows as he felt rage wash over him until he remained in an unnatural calm.

“I don’t know. Dante didn’t say anything aside from demanding Nero’s location. He- he was in his other form, sir. He was enraged , nothing more than a feral, caged animal desperately snapping for scraps of information. He cared not about our ascension, nor our respect for him. He was only interested in the boy.”

Credo leaned forward, his dull fingernails scraping the table. “Is this the end of our plan? Without Nero, our access to the Savior’s blood is now a rationed reagent.” One of the other Knights gasped, quietly smacking the table twice.

“That’s it! Dante- he is more in touch with his demonic heritage than Nero. Nero hardly knows anything of it, he can barely use and channel energy through his arm. Why would demons of similar blood gravitate towards one another? There’s only one answer here.”

“And what would that be, Fiego?” Credo turned to him slowly, squinting. His mind had already reached the conclusion, the answer that was hanging in the air over their heads. He wanted the man to say it .

“The mother has come for their nestling. Think of it, Nero has been acting strangely for a year now. He almost died during a mission to an Empusa hive on the outskirts of the island. He came back in a terrible condition, covered in his own blood and barely mobile. One of the squires then had reported seeing a man in red on the outskirts of the city, leaving once Nero was out of their sight. He must have already known Nero was dispatched to missions on his lonesome.”

Credo shifted in his chair, sighing as he ran a hand through his sweat-slick hair.

“We do not tell the elders or Sanctus of this failure. This is ours, and ours alone.”

oOo

Nero watched the sway of Dante’s hips as he hummed along to the music from the old radio, dancing as he cooked some pasta abomination on the stove. Dante’s positive attitude was almost infectious, even as the flames of the stove sputtered and threatened to die out. Dante’s mood changed as he cursed the stove and adjusted the flame, sighing.

“Did you forget to pay the gas and electricity again?” Nero watched as Dante looked over his shoulder, smiling sheepishly as he stirred the pot of horrors with a wooden spoon.

“Probably. I don’t usually eat anythin’ other than pizza, but uh… I thought ya might have wanted… somethin’ else?” Nero shifted in his seat, embarrassment causing him to break out in a cold sweat.

“I wouldn’t… complain. I can’t really cook, so… it doesn’t bother me.” He avoided Dante’s gaze and the way he smirked over his shoulder, those fangs that would feel very at home in Nero’s neck on display. His arm burned again.

Nero stood up and pressed himself against Dante’s back, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist. The burn went away as expected, as he slid his demonic arm underneath Dante’s shirt. He felt Dante pausing from aggressively stirring the pot, a palm ghosting over his wrist. Dante’s sharp inhale was nothing new, nor were the sudden purrs. Nero knew Dante liked to be touched, and he needed touch to keep the pain away.

“I’m um… tryin’ to make spaghetti.” Nero rubbed circles on Dante’s flesh, hovering just above his belt. Dante’s breath caught in his throat, as Nero applied pressure and began to nibble his arm. “I, uh… Okay ,” Dante laced their fingers together to stop Nero’s exploration.

“Pretty sure you’re making spaghetti wrong. You’re supposed to boil the water before you put the noodles in.” Nero reached for the spoon, lifting the overcooked noodles and snickering. “Also, don’t think you had to cook them this long. They’re done.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Dante sounded smug and proud at the same time, which had Nero recoiling like he’d been shot. Dante raised his hands in surrender, his head tilted to expose his neck which had Nero pausing and breathing harshly. He was fine, he was just confused.

“I uh… I know a bit from helping… Kyriè in the kitchen. Spaghetti is easy.” Dante didn’t ask about Kyriè, and for that much Nero was grateful. Dante let Nero take over, salvaging the meal. Nero even showed him how to make the sauce from scratch, to the tomato paste and the correct spices, and how much garlic he should be putting into the mixture. Dante was able to enjoy an actual home cooked meal for the first time in years . Pizza and strawberry sundaes don’t count, Dante felt spoiled, despite having tried to make it on his own. Nero offered to give Lady a call to invite her and Trish over, but Dante told him to leave them alone tonight. The women were out on a ‘girls night’ trip.

“Ya know, you’re pretty good at this.” Dante waved a fork of spaghetti through the air, teasing Nero from across the table. The teen flushed dark enough to match the red hoodie he wore. Nero had recently started to like red more. Dante didn’t want to fluff his own metaphorical feathers, but he had an inkling why .

“Thanks.” Nero quietly ate his own food for most of dinner, twirling the spaghetti on his fork as he glared at the noodles. Dante had an excuse to finally crack open the bottle of wine he’d kept under the couch for almost twenty years, and savored the bitter taste in his glass. By the time his fork scraped the clean plate, Nero finally spoke again, this time with a fire lit in his eyes.

“Who’s my father?” Dante gagged on his wine, spitting the nectar back into the glass. Nero was wringing his hands together, staring at his plate that had been cleaned- if he was more of an animal, he probably would have licked the plate.

“Uh, whoever adopted you?” Dante tried to deflect. Tried .

“Don’t bullshit me, I know what you are.” Nero dared to look up from his plate, his expression unreadable as he hid behind his bangs. Why? Not now, not when we’re finally togeth-

“You’re fine with that? Knowin’ what I did?” Dante shakily set the nearly emptied wine glass down on the table, an audible clink breaking the silence. Nero shifted in his seat, leaning against the backrest as he tilted his head. He blew hot air at his bangs to get them out of his face, and settled with tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Did you even have a choice? Did you think I would be mad that you tried to give me a life? I’ve seen your… whatever this is,” Nero gestured at the state of Devil May Cry , to the empty beer bottles and discarded pizza boxes- everything he had been slowly cleaning. The scattered magazines, old books, and trinkets and knick knacks Dante had collected. “You’re obviously depressed. You wouldn’t have been able to handle raising a kid and doing your job.”

“I wanted to.” Dante scrubbed at his cheek, trying to stop his tears, he had to fight his vulnerability, gods be damned. “I didn’t want to give you away. I… I wanted you to stay, but… yeah. I couldn’t do it. And I hate myself everyday for it.” Dante’s accent had slipped to something distinctly Redgrave, which Nero had heard on some of their day trips- whatever New Yorker accent Dante had gone on before, had fallen apart and been forgotten. Raw and unfiltered, Nero peeled his defensive walls until only Dante remained. His persona be damned.

“This feels wrong, doesn’t it?” Nero leaned forward, pushing his plate away and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t mean to interrogate Dante, but they couldn’t keep playing house without addressing their issues .

“Every fucking day. I tell myself it’s better than there , but… I feel like a failure. You were never supposed to end up in their hands.” Dante practically spat any mention of the Order from his mouth. He had strong opinions on those cultists, none of them in a positive light.

“You couldn’t have decided where I went. I was just unlucky. But… My parents weren’t bad. They died to a demon attack, though. Credo made sure they didn’t know what was happening to me. Come home to a roof over my head, warm meals, and a sister that adored me.” Nero looked away, pressing his lips together as he thought about her - he was worried.

“Some of it was… okay?”

“Yeah.”

Dante deflated with a sigh, slouching in his chair as he idly scratched the table. He couldn’t focus, his heart hammering in his chest. His son deserved to know . But could Dante handle telling him? Physically, yes. Emotionally, no. Dante hadn’t accepted it himself.

“I killed your father.” Nero flinched like he had been struck. He didn’t open his mouth to speak, Dante was fighting his demons with his confession. This was his heart laid bare, and a wet sniffle told Nero more than he needed to know.

“The demon king… Mundus controlled him. Turned him into a monster. I hadn’t seen him in years , I thought I had already lost him, and then I killed him. I don’t know if he died happy or not. Still spouting the same shit that I should have just forgotten about him, but how could I? I loved Vergil, I always will.” Dante almost forgot how to breathe, bringing his shaking hands to his face as he wiped away his tears.

“You freed him, is that a bad thing?” Nero stood as quietly as he could, the chair barely scraping against the floorboards. He stopped next to Dante, running his fingers through his hair, trying his best to give Dante a comforting smile once Dante looked up. Dante leaned into his touch- reminding Nero of a puppy.

“I miss him, and I barely even knew him .” Nero leaned down to wrap his arms around Dante’s shoulders, straining his back, but he couldn’t care.

“I’m sure he knew.” Dante weakly tugged Nero’s hoodie, wiping his nose on the fabric as he fell apart in Nero’s arms.

“I…  I never got to tell him. He died thinking I didn’t love him.” Nero closed his eyes and breathed softly through his nose, holding himself together. Dante’s walls crumbled around him, his shaky breaths turning to sobs.

oOo

Nero slept in Dante’s bed that night, with a warm body curled around him protectively. It was nice . Nero let himself be held, and something inside reminded him this is how it should be. Purring, warmth, a nest , all for him. Nero wasn’t disposable here, he had worth. He had someone he meant something to. Their hearts were no longer blocked by the jagged broken glass of Dante’s past.

Something in his chest reached for Dante, a tingling sensation that had his toes curling and having to cover his mouth so he wouldn’t wake Dante. Perhaps Nero had a soul , bright blue, fiery and hot like the blood in his veins. He silently mourned the father he never knew, as his heart ached for Dante.

Dante responded with a kiss to his neck, sleepily as he mumbled against Nero’s jaw. Nero’s arm burned again, flames licking along scales that lit up the dark bedroom. The scales had spread. Before this curse had stopped at his elbow, but by now, during his few months of solace with Dante and his ‘friends’ , it had reached his shoulder. Blue and red intertwined so beautifully, and for once, Nero believed it so.

He bit his tongue as Dante’s fangs sunk into his neck, crackling with demonic energy.  Nero felt the pull in his chest, and went with the flow, feeling his own energy respond in kind. Like a dam ready to burst, Nero’s demonic blood seethed in his veins. He felt his already inhuman fangs grow longer, his vision grew sharper, he could see clearly in the darkness as the glow of his arm dimmed.

Nero’s senses were inevitably tainted by nothing but Dante . He could taste a strawberry sundae on his tongue, could smell Dante’s skin through his nose like he’d just sniffed him. It lulled him to sleep, as someone read poetry in his ear.

Dante’s demons haunted him, but they were not malicious. Nero could not see him, but he recognized the quotes. William Blake .

oOo

Eight Months Later

Nero hadn’t told Dante his reason behind his newfound poetry obsession, and Dante merely waved it off as a phase. Lady wasn’t buying it, but she was buying Nero every book he wanted, free of debt. Dante may have been jealous over this .

Trish kept an ear to the ground about Fortuna, using connections and a few demonic thralls to keep an eye on the island- which had become quiet, too tame, too dull in the recent months. They all knew what that meant. Nero didn’t want to go back, but he’d follow Dante. Why ? He didn’t want to know the answer, he was different now. He may not have completely broken free of Credo’s control, but they believed in him.

Trish’s passive-aggressive methods helped. She was an excellent mentor for both swordsmanship, and pettiness.

Lady was terrifying with a gun in her hand, and may have given Nero sniper training. Dante was also a smidge jealous over this. He of course had his Ebony and Ivory, his beloved dual pistols, and liked to challenge Nero to contests over who was a better shot. Nero declined every time.

Nero kept puking over the side of the ship the entire time on the way back to Fortuna. As if every cell of his body was rejecting the place, the horrid energy that curled from the depths. The memories of laboratories and cryostasis haunted him.

Lady had spent a majority of the several hours rubbing circles on Nero’s back, while giving Dante pitiful looks. This is your job . Dante wanted to run the moment they came ashore, but Trish held him back. Nero needed him, but Nero shouldn’t have come regardless.

It had been Lady’s idea to not leave Nero unattended- if the Order had found him once in Redgrave, they could again. The cultist plague would have to be cleared out before he could live peacefully. Dante listened to reason, for once . Nero was not to leave their sight, ever.

Nero, however, wanted to see Kyriè. He begged them to let him go. He wanted to make sure his sister was okay, it had been nearly a year , and he had missed her dearly. Trish and Dante silently agreed against it, yet Lady caved. With supervision, Nero was allowed to visit Kyriè.

Nero was greeted by an empty house, blood-stained stone steps. A front door clawed and off its hinges, laying on the ground covering an old pictureframe. Nero tore the house apart, from his old room, to Kyriè’s. He even checked Credo’s room, frantically tearing through the drawers of the dresser and the desk for anything .

“Where is she?” Nero looked through the paperwork- ones that still had his name, oblivious of Dante and Trish in the doorway. Trish was ready for murder, clicking her nails on the doorframe. Lady was checking the rest of the house, looking through the things Nero had frantically gone through.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in quite awhile, kid.” Trish sniffed, grimacing as dust got caught in her nose. She turned and sneezed directly onto Dante’s shoulder, wiping her nose on his coat. He glared at her through the corner of his eye, arms crossed over his chest as he held himself together- about as well as she did. They shared the same toxic aura, their singular brain cell that fought for tenth place bouncing between the two.

There were many things that could have happened to Kyriè. Nero realized he hadn’t figured out who’s blood had been seen on the walls, dropping the stack of papers in his hand and shoving his way past the duo to run down the hall. Dante and Trish shared a glance as Nero sniffed the wall, trying to remind himself what Kyriè smelled like, what her blood would have smelled like.

Trish moved first, reaching for the stack of papers. Documentation of Nero’s life since adoption, along with multiple experiments he was a part of. Trish for once wanted to spare Dante a shred of pain, not showing him at first.

Photographs of Nero as a child strapped to a table, hooked up to multiple machines and IVs in his veins. The documents could be seen as a photobook, Nero’s life laid bare before them. Dante could see the way his son grew up, the light leaving his eyes. Trish covered her mouth once the pages showed Nero as an eight year old- his demonic arm had been only his hand at that age, and the gashes the doctors had left in his arm.

Documents showed them prying his scales from his body. Nero’s tear-stained face, the doctor’s scribbles of him being a good boy that doesn’t cry , his lips pressed shut and bleeding with a cut on his lower lip from his fang.

They had pulled his teeth out on multiple occasions, they had tested his limits of regeneration. They wanted to cut his arm from his body, but were stopped by Credo, believing the half-breed incapable of regenerating limbs.

Tests had shown the purity of his blood compared to the other half-demon children, they had deemed Nero a prime specimen, he was to ascend , for his blood had shown him worthy.

Years of tests until the age of sixteen, shortly before Dante had whisked him away. The demonic features of his arm had been spreading his whole life, they had pumped him full of sedatives and demonic energy to both slow and accelerate the process. They had every intention to turn Nero into a mindless soldier.

Dante saw red when Trish opened another folder that had been the Order’s experiments with Nero’s reproductive system. Documenting the age he began menstruation. How they had cut him open so they could view his womb that developed with age. They had taken his eggs, and had tried time and time again, only to end with failure, for fertilization.

Nero was labelled a failure in only one category. The Order believed him sterile.

“I’m going to burn this entire island to the ground.” Dante finally spoke, his voice low and rough, his words to which Trish nodded and agreed to.

“Hell would be too kind a fate for these scum.” They heard the thumping of Nero’s heavy boots on the floorboards of the hallway, he was coming back. Their heads turned in unison, expressions unreadable as Nero huffed and struggled to catch his breath in the doorway.

“It’s not Kyriè’s blood, it’s Credo’s. Something must have happened to him!” Trish hissed.

“Good. That bastard deserves to suffer. Remember what we taught you, Nero.” Being in his childhood home had Nero’s brain scrambled, he had almost forgotten he was supposed to hate his adoptive brother. Confusion flickered on his face before he settled on numbness, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

“I… right. Yeah. Guess we could follow the blood trail, or… I could just take you to the labs directly. They’re always doing shady shit down there.” Dante slowly set the folder down, and Trish mirrored his actions.

“Take whatever’s important to you from here. Then I’m having Dante burn this shithole to the ground.” Nero swallowed the lump in his throat, shrugging.

“Credo never really let me have anything, I… the only things I really had was my portable CD player and my headset, which I had taken with me to Redgrave. It’s still in the shop.” Nero avoided her eyes, pushing himself up to head back down the hallway. He called for Lady, who came up to Nero with fire behind her eyes. She had found equally incriminating things in a hidden strongbox behind the living room’s bookshelf.

“Nero, tell me these aren’t real.” She held the polaroids in shaking hands. Nero knew what she was holding- pictures of his naked body on Credo’s desk in the underground facility, what he looked like after Credo had his way with him. The tears in her eyes meant more to Nero than he thought they would.

“They’re real. I’m sorry,” Lady shook her head, tossing the photos to the ground and wrapping her arms around Nero, burying her face in his chest.

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize. It wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry baby, they.. I should have… I should have kept a better track of you.” Nero patted her head awkwardly, trying to move her with his hands gently on her shoulders to usher her down the hallway. Trish did the job for him, yanking Lady by the collar of her shirt.

“Let’s go. Dante’s going to burn it.”

Dante entered his Devil Trigger and breathed fire , starting with Credo’s bedroom. He erased every trace of Credo from that house, leaving and puffing smoke as he stood on the wooden steps. It was symbolic, their childhood homes both burned.

Nero’s childhood home burned for good reason. Nero toasted a marshmallow on the tip of Rebellion as Dante and Trish cursed up a storm and Lady wiped her eyes, checking the myriad of guns on her body to ensure none were jammed.

Nero went through an entire bag of marshmallows, feeling loved and protected for the first time in his life. He didn’t feel fear of the idea of bringing them to the Order’s base, to where his nightmares began. Nero at one point couldn’t remember where the Order’s obedient, loyal dog ended, and where he began, but at Dante’s side he could remember. Sandwiched between Dante and Trish, he remembered.

They sat huddled on the ground for awhile, Nero in the middle as he enjoyed his roasted marshmallows.

He didn’t share the bag.

Chapter Text

Nero had depleted his snack stash by the time they reached the city proper. He was decent enough to actually throw his trash away, despite Trish’s insistence that no one would care. Nero did . He still had standards, even if they were piss poor ones and only scraped the bottom of the barrel for human decency. They passed Kyriè’s favorite cafè, which had Nero looking through the window to see if he could spot her. She was unfortunately nowhere to be found, which had Lady comforting Nero- again , gently ushering him away from the window and the shocked patrons.

Nero wanted to show them the city, that Fortuna wasn’t all that bad, that the island could be salvaged once the Order’s roots had been removed. The trio hesitantly obliged- it was clear Nero was on the verge of a mental breakdown- at least to Trish and Lady. Trish may not have been good with emotions, but even she knew.

Nero was too frantic, he was babbling- aggressive to a fault, showing them some of his favorite attractions as if the possible end of the world wasn’t on the horizon. He was still taking them in the direction of the Order’s Headquarters, but distracted along the way.

Dante, gloriously, kept his mouth shut for once. Something was wrong , he could feel it in his blood. Like an old wound had been reopened, there was an energy in the air that he could sense. Everything about Fortuna rubbed him the wrong way, and the group stopped as the ground beneath their feet began to shake.

“C’mon kid, enough sight-seeing. We gotta go.” Trish’s hand felt heavy on Nero’s shoulders, as his train of thought paused. With a sigh, Nero nodded, shrugging her hand off.

“Yeah, sorry. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong. Being here, it… I feel off.” Dante and Lady took their places at Nero’s sides- comfort wasn’t Trish’s strong suit. Dante nuzzled into Nero’s hair while Lady linked her arm with his, giving him a smile.

“This has to be difficult for you, no one’s blaming you for being like this. But remember you have someone to save, right? Kyriè? Let’s go save her, Nero.” Lady was right- Nero had to stay focused, which was difficult with Dante’s broken purrs in his ear. He looked to the direction of the grand cathedral that overlooked the city, the one that would have an entrance to the underground facilities, where Kyriè was likely being kept.

Nero led them there without getting distracted again, eerily silent for the rest of the walk. Some of the locals greeted Nero, expressing their concern for his disappearance. Nero thanked them and kept going.

“Nero, where have you been? Credo’s been so worried about you!”

“Nero, missed ya ‘round here. Good to see you again.”

“Nero-”

“Nero, the Order doesn’t take too kindly to deserters…”

“Kid, tune them out.” Trish broke through the voices- Nero had stopped at the winding cobbled pathway that led up to the cathedral. Trish was at his back, leaning forward over his shoulder to whisper in Nero’s ear. “Their opinions do not matter. Do not listen to them.”

Nero flinched, blinking as he tore his gaze away from the cathedral. He looked down to his hand- he had clenched his fist and drawn blood with his claws. He slowly flexed his hands, experimentally wiggling his fingers as feeling returned.

“Stay together. There’s a defense system in place and the… underground is a massive maze.” Nero had to gather himself, his thoughts, his worries and the thin strand of hope he had left. He scrubbed his cheek raw, his own claws threatening to take his own eye out. Dante was gentle with removing Nero’s hand from his face, and Nero zoned in on the chipped black nail polish on Dante’s nails.

“Ya know the way around though, dont’cha?” Dante’s confidence in Nero warmed him. Dante nodded once he saw the cuts on Nero’s cheek heal, and released his arm.

“I do. I don’t know the full extent of the security systems, but you don’t have to worry about firearms. They’re against… policy.” Lady snorted, brandishing one of her pistols and spinning it in her hand.

“Their loss, and our advantage.” Lady and Trish shared a look , both grinning. Nero shook his head and began the ascent.

The cathedral was devoid of life. Corpses littered the tiled floor, blood was splattered on the walls, the podium, the pews. The statue of Sparda was cracked, missing a horn, and at his feet- the corpse of Sanctus.

Nero was above spitting on the deceased, Trish however, was not. She spat on Sanctus’ body before kneeling, inspecting the wounds that had slain him.

“These weren’t made by a sword. These are claw marks- a demon did this.” Nero didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to. Sanctus’ body was covering the entrance to the underground.

“Can you… move him? He’s blocking, the.. Mechanism.” Trish looked over her shoulder, blinking slowly- like a reptile. She stood, her heels clacking on the tile, before she drop-kicked Sanctus’ body. Nero pressed his hands together and prayed for forgiveness.

Trish was interested in the only crimson tile on the floor- tilting her head. As Dante and Lady finally came over, done with their inspection of the other bodies, the four of them converged around the tile.

“Does it do anything?” Lady pointed at the tile with one of her pistols, looking at Nero. He sighed, and jumped on the tile. All four heads snapped in the direction of the middle of the open room- the circular tile pattern dropped, to reveal a winding staircase- one that nearly every step had been coated in blood.

“Huh, I’ll be damned. They’ve got the evil lair vibes down.” Trish flipped her hair over her shoulder, making her way to the staircase, peering into the darkness. “Looks like shit.” She sniffed, scrunching her nose.

Lady followed Trish down the stairwell, covering her nose with her sleeve. The smell of demon blood didn’t bother any of them- they were all used to the stench. Human blood had been thrown into the mix, overpowering their senses. 

Once they had reached the first basement level, the group was met with large metal doors that would have proved a nuisance to break through- if it were not for the grotesque, half-human body jamming the doors. Nero recognized them, in their collar and hospital gown. One of the other half-breeds, like himself.

“What the fuck did they do to this kid?” Nero didn’t know if it was Lady or Trish that spoke, they were both by her body, the girl’s amber eyes unblinking, her arm outstretched to the stairwell. She had tried to escape.

Part of her body was engorged and pulsating, covered in black scales. Part of her looked like an Empusa- specifically the lower half of her body, where a scar was the only indicator her lower body had been amputated, and her body had been spliced together with an Empusa drone.

“This is… horrifying.” Lady gagged before covering her mouth, looking away from the child’s body, unable to look at the little girl any longer. “Is this what they do with the half-demons?”

“It’s mostly what they used my blood for. Something, something, purity, I don’t remember. It enhanced their regenerative capabilities. Some of the other subjects were pumped full of my blood and the blood of lesser demons. Most of them kept human forms, the ones that didn’t… necrosis would start at one part of their body, or like my arm, demonic features would start spreading. This whole Frankenstein bullshit is new, though.”

Trish stepped over the girl's body, turning her body to walk sideways through the gap between the metal doors. Lady quickly followed, not wanting to see the little girl any longer. The other side of the door must not have fared any better, as Nero listened to the echoes of Lady gagging on the other side.

Dante waited for him, looking forward, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. Dante looked more disheveled than before, the dark circles under his eyes had gotten worse over the past hour. Nero didn’t want to know what his reflection would look like.

Nero went through before Dante did, but he had stopped to say a quick prayer for Anastasia . 

The other side of the door was worse than the ground floor of the cathedral. A few of the lower ranked Knights laid strewn across the floor and against the metal walls, in various degrees of mutilated, clawed, slashed, and bitten bodies.

Lady held onto Kalina Ann like it was her lifeline. She avoided looking at the bodies of children, keeping her head high, even if her heart hammered in her chest and she had thrown up in a corner only moments before. Trish kept her façade of indifference, yet underneath her carefully constructed demeanor, she was disgusted and enraged.

Dante seemed the most human in that moment, inhaling sharply through his nose as he sighed. Nero didn’t know how to feel- his heart went out for the other half-demons, who had been his fellow trainees and others he had only seen in the laboratories. Where the fuck was the Order getting all of these half-demons?

“This is a horror movie. Certified, we’re in a horror movie, and this isn’t even a chick flick for frat boys to laugh at.” Trish wiped her hand on her leather pants, cleaning herself of blood she had touched on the door. None of them could laugh at her attempt at a joke.

Nero took the lead, his head swiveling on his shoulders as he looked down hallways for any armed Guards- any Knights that may still be around- finding none.

Silence followed for the next hour. Nero led them down another level, the first basement floor suspiciously devoid of any living creature- human or demon. Another set of stairs led them down- these ones metal, these ones clean , the air smelling like disinfectant and bleach. The doors opened, the metal groaning.

A janitor looked directly at them, a cigarette in his mouth as he mopped up another bloodstain. He shrugged after taking a long look at the four of them, returning to his job. The lights of the second sub-level were on, which was a good sign.

They passed the janitor without asking questions- the old man had no information for them, being one of the lowest ranking individuals in the building. Logic would dictate to ask anyways, since janitors see a lot of shit- usually keeping their mouths shut unless someone asks them. Nero pivoted on his heel, jogging to catch up with the man.

“Excuse me, have you seen anything strange going on down here?” Nero backed away as the man blew a cloud of smoke in his face, leaning heavily on the mop.

“Do ya mean the bodies an’ the blood, or the fact one of the Ascension rituals failed an’ made a gods-damned monster?” They blinked in sync- Nero stopped breathing for a few seconds.

“ What ?” The janitor cocked his head in the general direction of the hallway, where the trio awaited Nero.

“Somethin’ happened in them labs, somethin’ went wrong. It was ‘bout the same time as one of them Ascension rituals.” Nero followed the man’s gaze, squinting. The rest of the hallway was clean, the floors had been recently mopped.

Nero returned to the group after thanking the man, jogging to catch up with the trio. He rubbed his cheek on Dante’s arm as he passed, disliking the smell of chemicals that had hung around him- around them all, actually. The smell of bleach bothered Nero’s nose more than he’d like to admit- it burned, his eyes stung.

He powered through it, leading them to the laboratory. Nero tuned out Lady and Trish speaking to him- both asking if he was okay - which he was not- he was going to face his horrors, unprepared. He stood in front of those double doors, looking inexplicably like a hospital , where his demons were kept under lock and key, humanoid bodies and demons alike kept in cryogenic tanks.

Nero refused to look at the tanks, except the one he had been kept in at one point. He had marched down the hallway, he had kept stride once they entered one of the main rooms of the laboratory. Nero stared down what had once been his prison, his breathing shallow as his arm tingled.

There was someone else’s energy left in the tank, and if he stared long enough, he could see blue flames . They beckoned him, the voice in his ear that often only heard when Dante was sleeping next to him- read poetry once again.

“And it grew both day and night, ‘till it bore an apple bright.” Nero dared to look to his left, met with emerald eyes that held mirth behind them, the slender man tilting his head, his bangs covering one eye. A delicate mirror that had their fingers on the back of Nero’s neck, index finger on his pulse.

“Go on, then. You know what you have to do, don’t you?” They held their hand out, and Nero listened to the whispers, to copy him, he reached for his ex-prison, those blue flames reaching back. The scale plates on his arm shifted, revealing the blue luminescence within, that became brighter as the flames returned to Nero’s arm. He felt complete again.

“Good boy.” The ghost left a kiss to Nero’s cheek, releasing his neck to run their hand along Nero’s arm, the demonic energy within reacting . This wasn’t a hallucination- perhaps not entirely, Nero could never feel them before, but here in his pit of horrors, they were very real.

The lights above flickered, the bright LEDs dimming, bathing them in purple. Nero let himself be guided, the man’s palm against his cheek, tilting Nero’s head. They had to stand on the tips of their toes, their teeth bared in a cocky grin- they were determined to give Nero his prize.

Soft lips slid against his own, stealing his first kiss as the lights popped, drowning them in darkness. Teeth pulled at Nero’s bottom lip, and he blinked. Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the man clad in black had disappeared. The room was only lit by the remaining cryogenic tanks, and the rest of Nero’s group was nowhere to be seen.

He could feel, if he focused, the flames in his chest responded to a blazing inferno far away. The flames called to him, the flames were frantic, ready to set a warpath of destruction to find him. Nero found it strange that they had been behind him the entire way until he had crossed the proper threshold- and soon, he figured out why.

The walls had runes and summoning circles painted on the walls, the floors, the entire room smelling strongly of blood- human blood. He could hear the clash of blades far away- but Nero believed in them, they would be fine.

The whispers returned, and with it, hands ghosted along his sides. Nero looked over his shoulder, expecting the man in black, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“You should run along now. Mommy’s looking for you.” Nero ran like a man possessed, that hadn’t been a request, it had been a command, one that had the back of his neck burning, the pain shooting into his skull and half-blinding him. The pain receded once Nero could see Dante again, just as he carved through one of the Order’s pet monstrosities- another tortured, pieced-together half-breed and demon creature. Nero had heard them begging for release, and Dante had complied.

Nero rubbed the back of his neck as he huffed, feeling his skin tingle. The Red Queen called to him, his finger twitched, he wanted the comforting weight of her in his hand. Nero obliged, and cut through one of the demons, assessing the situation he had walked into.

There she was, strung from the ceiling, her blood running down a statue, her head hung limp. Kyriè’s body was unresponsive to the carnage below her, jostled whenever one of the demons had been tossed at the statue. Nero had to know , had he lost her?

Nero ignored the demons and his fellow trainees scrambling for him, drawn to the power flickering to life in his arm. He had to get to her, Nero had to know, he couldn’t, he can’t lose her too-

The man in black had returned, only visible in the corners of his vision. Nero viewed the world in slow motion, struggling to pay attention, but his senses were overwhelmed. The brand on the back of his neck implemented the command so easily , to carve through the air with his demon energy, to create an opening. Nero would reach her in time.

Space in front of him tore open, dual stars- the other behind Kyriè. Nero ran through the opening, jumping atop an Empusa to propel himself forwards. He clawed through the rope that bound Kyriè’s body, catching her in his arms as he fell. She was still warm, she still had a pulse. He had not lost his sister. Nero landed on his knees, cradling Kyriè’s unconscious body in his arms.

Nero didn’t see or hear the chaos he had caused, yet he felt the flames in his chest dimming to smoldering embers. He didn’t know what Dante was feeling, only that the inferno connected to him was a raging storm, threatening his momentary peace of mind. Nero waited impatiently, cupping Kyriè’s cheek as he held her, praying that she’d open her eyes. I’m here. I came for you. The tears streaming down his cheeks blurred his vision, yet Nero didn’t dare take a hand off of Kyriè to wipe his face.

Dante had cleared the room, standing on the edge of the pile of bodies he had created. Rebellion still in hand, Dante didn’t dare breathe in the toxic mist of demon blood lingering in the air. His eyes remained glued to Nero, to the glow of his arm as he rocked back and forth, sitting at the foot of yet another statue depicting Sparda.

Dante knew what he had seen, yet he had refused to believe it. He knew of only one blade that held that power, one he had become familiar with over the course of many years. Dante had chased many dead-end trails of information regarding the Yamato . Yet there it was, the sword’s essence calling to Rebellion, two halves orbiting one another- locked in a dance to the death.

The Yamato should never have fallen into Nero’s hands, nor should it have been inside his body. Dante didn’t remember when he started walking, only that his boots clicked on the tile, leaving bloody footprints behind him. The tip of Rebellion scraped the ground, the sound shocking the woman in Nero’s arms awake. How she had not awoken to the sounds of half-demon monsters screaming, Dante didn’t know the answer.

Dante tilted his head, and listened to the whispers for the first time in years. Vergil’s voice haunted him just as before, a sound Dante had learned to tune out long ago. Gone was the mocking of his incompetence, the gentle lies that begged Dante to forget .

The phantoms presented Nero like a show dog. A translucent Vergil stood at Nero’s side, one hand atop Nero’s head.

“Look at him. He’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Once Kyriè had sprung to life, she returned Nero’s embrace with one of her own, until they were nothing but a tangle of limbs and tears. Kyriè sobbed openly into Nero’s chest, both teens unwilling to let the other go. She thanked him time and time again, until they had become nothing more than a hiccuping mess.

Dante waited for their sobs to die down, Rebellion in hand as he stared at Nero’s arm, the demonic energy reacting when he came too close. It had been apprehensive in nature, reaching out and then recoiling. Nero couldn’t handle it yet, then. Dante blinked slowly, his lids heavy with exhaustion. Whether it be physical or mental, Dante was tired . The phantoms were blissfully gone, allowing Dante relative silence.

Nero looked up to Dante, wiping his face as gently as he could with claw-tipped fingers. Kyriè slowly turned her head, cheek pressed to Nero’s chest, her eyes partially hidden beneath her bangs. Sparks of light became an inferno as her focus jumped all over Dante’s body, to even the bloodied sword still in his hand. The light in her eyes was reverent, innocent , unlike a majority of the Order and those connected to it. She was in the presence of divinity , and treated it as such.

Dante swung Rebellion through the air, flicking blood from the blade’s surface. This was his son’s best friend and adoptive sister, Dante had to make a good impression, he’d yell at his reflection later if he fucked up. Dante kneeled, a hand offered for Kyriè to take. Her hand was small and cold in his, her entire body plagued by shivers. He could warm her up.

“Hi there, you must be Kyriè. I’ve heard so much about you- wish we could have met in better circumstances. Can you stand?” Kyriè nodded, closing her mouth that she had left hanging open as she stared into Dante’s eyes- blue that was tinted red and gold, the outer ring of his irises a deep crimson.

“Y-yes, it’s… it’s nice to meet you, sir.” Dante helped Kyriè to her feet, the woman’s face flushed, matching her hair. She was unsteady on her feet, her legs shook, so Dante pulled her close. She was shorter than Nero, although the half-breed had hit a growth spurt recently- her head was barely level with Dante’s chest. Nero at least came to his shoulders. Kyriè wasn’t delicate by any means, but she clearly had been malnourished.

To the dark circles beneath her eyes to the sunken hollow of her cheeks, how Dante could clearly feel every vertebrae of her spine through her thin nightgown. She leaned into Dante’s side despite her mind fighting to protest, seeking the warmth that the fiery-blooded half-demon could provide.

Nero scrambled to get on his feet, tripping over himself before he finally stood. He could taste Credo on his tongue, his scent sticking to Kyriè’s skin like glue. Nero wanted to erase every trace , just as Dante had done before. The half-demons worked in sync, rubbing their cheeks against Kyriè’s, earning a squeak.

Kyriè let them do their thing , and somehow, it made her feel cleaner than she had in months. Blanketed in their scent, their warmth, and Dante’s cologne that tickled her nose, washing away the ghosts of her brother’s hands around her neck.

Alarms blaring the facility broke their bubble, Kyriè jumping and hiding herself behind Nero. Lady had come running, barreling through the bent metal doors. One fell off the hinges, which she flipped off before refocusing. She took one look at Kyriè and nodded.

“You found her, good. There’s a problem a few floors below, we have to go . Dante, you’re going to need to be pissed to handle this.” Lady turned on her heel, not waiting for the three of them to collect their bearings. Dante took one last look at Kyriè, and then at his candlelight , who burned beautifully.

“Carry her if ya have to.” Dante did not waste time when Lady needed him, disappearing through the doors and to the right. He could follow his companion’s scent trail. Nero looked to Kyriè, the weight of her gaze meeting his own. Nero swallowed the lump in his throat as he exhaled harshly through his nose.

“Are you… I mean, I can… can you, uh? Walk?” Nero gestured to Kyriè’s legs, which had her giggling- the first sign of mirth she had shown Nero since she had awoken.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry. We should catch up to them, though. There’s… something horrible down there, Nero.” Kyriè took Nero’s hand, demonic energy lapping at her fingertips as she pulled him forward. Nero never knew she was so strong . He swore he saw her eyes flash gold, and realized the burning in his chest was his body trying to reconnect with himself .

From the blood that dried on her raw wrists, to the blood beneath a healing lack of fingernail - to the missing front tooth- Kyriè smelled like Nero’s blood. She was covered in scars a normal human would have recovered from, the poorly stitched gash under her jaw, right side of her neck, told Nero more than he needed to know.

Nero blinked as he let himself be led, Kyriè’s quick steps echoing on the tile floor, until Nero noticed an audible squelch , the duo pausing as Kyriè stared at the blood painting her bare feet. Beneath them were no longer tiled floors, pristine marble replaced by a writhing, fleshy mass of dark gray. It reminded Nero of the Empusa’s hive- however it felt wrong , he could see veins running through the grotesque living walls, and how the rest of the hallway was encased.

Kyriè’s breath hitched in her throat, as she slowly turned to Nero. Her eyes flashed gold once more, mirroring his.

“You… you don’t have to go, Nero. I’m sure Mister Dante and that scary Lady have it handled.” Nero shook his head, feeling bile rise in his throat as the cacophony of the living wall’s heartbeat drummed in his ears. The smell of necrotic flesh burned his nostrils, as he struggled to focus on Kyriè- her life essence, dim and just out of reach.

“I have to. I have to see this through. Please trust me .” Kyriè hesitated, holding Nero’s hand in hers. She nodded after a moment of silence and bated breath.

“This… this is his doing. Everything. He lost it after you… you escaped .” Nero knew from the look in her eyes, Kyriè told the truth. He didn’t need to witness the horrors Credo had created first hand, Nero knew , all along. Credo had always pulled the strings behind Nero’s past, kept him under lock and key like a proper puppet, a poorly maintained porcelain doll with a cracked surface.

“Then I have to stop him. I can’t guarantee your safety, but… if you want to come with me, I won’t stop you.” Kyriè cupped Nero’s cheek, sighing as she wiped away the ghost of a tear from his left eye.

“I won’t let you do this alone, Nero.” He nodded, interlacing their fingers together. If the pits of hell itself had opened to beckon them within, they would oblige. Kyriè wanted to see the monster their older brother had become, Nero wanted to put an end to the tyranny of the Order.

They ran down the corridor of flesh-coated walls, every step Kyriè took squelching beneath her feet.

There were no stairs to be seen, only a drop at least two stories tall that led further into the depths. Broken, pained moans could be heard from the walls- the living tissue that they had found themselves in.

There were half-alive bits and pieces of members of the Order, their hands reaching for the duo as they passed. Nero swept Kyriè from her feet, jumping into the pit below.

Nero saw dozens of eyes, electric blue that seemed to stare into his very soul. Nero blinked, and they changed, no longer glowing blue. They looked human once again. The whispers had returned, but they melded with the cacophony of crying voices, begging for release, empty, hollow and soulless shells that drowned the sound of his own heartbeat from his ears.

Nero hit the ground on his feet, the few seconds having felt like an eternity- Kyriè looking at him with concern in her eyes.

“Nero… what was that?” Surely, she didn’t see the hallucinations too?

“What do you mean? The eyes?” He set Kyriè to her feet, keeping an arm on her to help her stand. She squinted at the dark corridor, which Nero could hear moving, pulsating.

“No, that sound . There was a scream.” Nero couldn’t hear anything- it was like being beneath hospital lights, too loud, buzzing in his ears- but these buzzes beckoned him further, coaxing him to move.

Kyriè walked with him, and perhaps Nero was leaning on her more than she used him to support herself. She couldn’t see what Nero saw- she couldn’t see who he followed. She couldn’t hear bare feet tapping to a silent beat, aside from her own steps.

Nero saw him clearly, the way he spun his cane in the air as he danced down the hall. He could hear the bastard whistling, like this was nothing more than a day trip to his favorite library. But he helped Nero before, and hadn’t given Nero any reason to distrust him.

As the phantom turned, Nero swore he saw the purple glow of their eyes, a half-lidded gaze with a finger over his lips, hushing Nero before he disappeared into smoke. Screams. Nero could hear them, as if the phantom’s disappearance removed the haze from his senses.

Kyriè’s labored breaths as she took in the horrors they found themselves knee-deep in.

Partially assimilated human-bodies trying to escape, their echoing cries muffled in the red liquid they were trapped in- air bubbles rising to the surface, pockets of blood that bubbled and rose from the ground. Whatever ‘room’ this once had been, it had become an amalgamation far worse than the hallways of the upper floors.

Nero only took a few steps to distance himself from Kyriè as the ground beneath them shifted- like a new set of lungs taking their first breath. The hallways groaned as ribs sprouted from below and above, becoming a cage that separated Nero from Kyriè. His body couldn’t fit through the gaps, despite being so lithe- and neither could hers.

Nero struck the bone with his demonic arm, the cage not budging. He cursed under his breath, and it was only after repeated strikes that had his scales flaking from his arm did Kyriè reach through the gaps to stop him.

“Nero, please… Don't hurt yourself. I’m sure there is a way around this.” Kyriè’s voice was his soothing balm, and he tried to focus on her face through the gaps, blinking through his tears.

“I just got you back, please, I can’t do this again, I can’t lose you again-” Nero reached for her through the gaps, shedding scales until his arm was raw. Kyriè laced her fingers with his, and Nero could hear her sniffling, see the way her shoulders shook.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise. Just keep running, okay? Keep running and don’t look back . Whatever you do- Nero- don’t look back.” She let go of his hand, pulling her arm through the gap as quickly as she could, the bones beginning to shift and close between them.

Nero freed himself with marginal error, scraping a part of his arm off that had him bleeding, feeding the amalgamation below.

The bodies clamored for his blood, some of the upper bodies dragging themselves with thin limbs, lapping his blood up like dogs cleaning a puddle. Another tried to climb him, attempting to drink from the source, which had Nero kicking the body away.

There were no souls in these husks, they were already dead. Nero stumbled back as he wiped his tears, looking to the way he came, hoping there had been some place he could crawl through, to get to her from the other side. There was nothing, only a wall slowly closing in, that would force Nero further into this hellhole .

Nero ran. It had been what she asked of him, run and do not look back. The ground beneath his feet squished, squelched, as blood splashed onto his boots, his pants. His coat would be ruined by the time he got any further-

Down the hallway, Nero saw an entryway that pulsed in sync to the heartbeat in the walls. It was the closest he had gotten to a sign that he had gotten anywhere, hearing the dead on his heels. Nero did not think, and crashed through, rolling on the ground to a stop as the ‘door’ closed behind him.

From the ceiling hung a heart, every pulse spilling precious blood to the floor. Skinless pillars grew from the ground, reaching to the heart and cradling it. This was an altar, demonic runes carved into the flesh of the ground, directly below the heart.

Nero pushed himself to his feet, wiping the blood from his hands. Nero couldn’t feel his own heart in his chest, and he couldn’t hear the ritual chamber’s horror.

There were hands over his ears, a body pressed to his back. He could feel scales and claws, a tail that coiled around their legs. This was not the man in black. This was the demon, who had been familiar to him for over a year.

“Do not let your fear consume you.” Nero tried to follow the demon's gaze, but their tail quickly moved from their feet to cover his eyes. “She will guide you. Follow her lead, or die.”

Flames shot up his arm as the demon disappeared into a faint blue light. Nero was once more left alone, and now able to hear the room-

Loud , they were deafening. The screams, the heartbeat, the sloshing pools of blood and newborn hellspawn writhing within sacs embedded in the wall, borne from human corpses. Felbats hung from the arteries, sleeping soundly and swaying in tandem with the heartbeat.

Nero could handle minor demons like this, he could handle the Riots and the Furies. He could handle Empusas. Nero was strong , Nero was expendable-

Nero is a child .

Something was climbing up from the depths, shaking the entire room. Fleshy tentacles that sprayed blood as something disconnected from them- crawling up from the hole in the floor.

“Nero… is that you, Nero? ” Credo’s voice echoed in the room, the flesh walls contracting as- he arose. Missing the lower half of his body, connected to a writhing mass of demonic and human bodies, struggling to escape the assimilation. The Ascension ritual had failed , and now Nero knew what that meant-

A tentacle coiled around his leg, pulling, leaving Nero dangling in the air upside-down.

The Red Queen slipped from his grasp, stuck in one of the bloody pustules below. Credo pulled his legs apart, holding Nero over his head.

“It is you, Nero. I have finally caught you again, and this time, you will  not disobey me. You will not escape .” Those same tentacles, tipped with bone-like claws, shredded Nero’s clothes, one binding his arms together. He had no escape. Nero could try , he could squirm, and he could also cry.

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this. Nero couldn’t breathe, he was in hysterics. Credo was taking his time, picking Nero apart, like he was merely another toy- although this time he would not be discarding the boy.

Nero’s flesh could heal, he would be fine, something Credo had always adored . One of those many clawed appendages cut clean through Nero, between his ribs, through his chest, out of his back.

The smell of Nero’s blood was intoxicating . Credo was finally free of his oaths, his verdicts, and could do what he wanted to the half-breed. There was no longer the blinded faith and devotion, there was only Credo’s raw obsession.

He was always obsessed with Nero, he always wanted to become one, bury himself in that tight heat that had always eluded him. Credo would no longer be denied the gates to heaven, the gates to Ascension .

His vision was enhanced with his new body, and he saw every beautiful tear that fell from Nero’s eyes as he impaled each limb of the boy’s. The way blood rolled in rivulets down his lightly tanned skin, and finally, Credo focused on the prize that had been denied to him for far too long.

Smaller, thinner tentacles erupted from Credo’s body, as he looked to Nero to admire his work. The half-breed was nothing more than a sobbing, sniveling mess, just how Credo liked him. His reward to Nero was one of those new, still slick with blood tentacles constricting Nero’s cock in a vice-grip.

He was not going to offer Nero pleasure. Credo would only take, take what was rightfully his.

“No, no, no! Stop, please- ” Nero’s cries were music to Credo’s ears, but he did want him to hear Nero’s insistent squawking. One of the smaller tentacles forced their way into Nero’s mouth, effectively silencing him, and Credo could hear the satisfying pop of Nero’s jaw. Credo wanted to be the first, to break through the gate.

He bound Nero’s arms at his back, pulling the boy taut- while he experimented to see how far Nero’s legs could be split before something cracked. To Credo’s delight , Nero could do an actual split .

“Amazing… You’re truly better than I could ever imagine.” Some of the half-devoured bodies echoed Credo, and soon Nero’s ears could only hear a mantra of amazing , as if they all worshipped his body, his beauty, his everything .

It was the most disgusting worship Nero had ever seen, and now he couldn’t even curse at it, he could only gag on a slimy, writhing tentacle that had long passed his gag reflex. He could feel it in his stomach , when it recoiled from his acid.

Nero closed his eyes, he couldn’t take a look at what was left of Credo any longer. Inhuman fingers reached for his cunt, giving no preparation, no warning, greedily entering and defiling Nero’s body, which had him biting down, trying to close his legs, prevent the intrusion.

All Nero could manage was the faintest tremor in his thighs, as he mentally begged for Credo to stop- the former knight could not hear him, and Nero doubted that he cared. He felt disgusting, every touch on his body had him desperately trying to struggle, completely helpless, completely hopeless .

The light had faded from Nero’s eyes, once and for all. He couldn’t stop Credo from being able to push through to his most hidden place- kept untouched, kept pure , all these years. Being strapped to the examination tables as they cut Nero apart was less humiliating than this.

Those thin tentacles felt cold inside of his body, some curling in his womb like they belonged . Nero wanted to vehemently disagree, this was not for Credo, he was not for Credo. Nero already had someone he belonged to, and he could only manage a broken whine, deep in his chest, for that person.

They could not hear him. Mother didn’t even know where he was.

Nero didn’t think, he didn’t feel. Bony hands with skeletal fingers squeezed his chest, leaving finger-print shaped bruises. They stayed, as his body was too focused on trying to heal his limbs which had been impaled.

The tentacle through his chest was yanked out, like Credo wanted Nero to scream- but he couldn’t, he was gagged and silenced.

Those tentacles curling inside every crevice of his moved like they were trying to stir Nero’s arousal - and failing. He refused to give, he refused to break - anymore than he already was. Nero couldn’t fight, but he wouldn’t give in -

Like awful suction from within, the tentacles were removed from his cunt with a pop. One, two, three, four . Nero tried to see what Credo was doing, and promptly wished he hadn’t.

The lack of a proper lower half of a body, meant Credo had different equipment than before. Another tentacle, this one different from the rest- tipped with a head with a dripping hole, reminding Nero of a-

Oh god .

One of the eggs slipped free, hitting the ground far below them, and if Nero tilted his head back, he could watch it break. Inside, the underdeveloped form of a Felbat.

The bodies in the walls, the newborn hellspawn- Credo had done it all, personally. Nero was to be next, Nero could survive, Nero could do it time and time again, over and over and over again.

The tentacle shoved down his throat, recoiled and slithered free just as Nero turned his head to empty the lackluster contents of his stomach, nothing but bile and saliva.

“No… no, ” Nero begged, shaking his head as he began to struggle once more.

Something in him snapped .

oOo

Dante ran . He couldn’t be bothered with the small-fry demons, or the zombified husks that still vaguely resembled humans . Something was wrong, something was very wrong, and it had fear curdling in his stomach. His link with Nero- as weak as it was- had fluctuated, and Dante was privy to his son’s state of mind- pure terror . Like Nero had been desperately calling out to him, only for the connection to break.

Like someone changed the radio station, all Dante felt was static. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He had already exhausted himself fighting tooth and claw through a seemingly endless army that continued to spill from the walls, emerging from human and demon corpses alike. 

He had kept Kyriè safe until he was able to deliver her to Lady and Trish. Dante had been looking for the source of the corruption with his companions, but the mission had only kept going down-hill, it had become personal the moment they had brought Nero onto the island.

His Nero. Dante didn’t know where his Nero was. He couldn’t even sniff him out, the stench of sulfur and blood was too strong- Dante’s only option was to blindly run through twisting corridors that all looked the same. Even if he nicked one of the walls to use as an identifier, the fleshy mass would quickly cover any damage within seconds. Accelerated healing, just like his own- but only, it was the cause of hundreds, if not thousands of demons.

He could hear a distant heartbeat, louder than his own, and how the walls pulsed in sync with every beat. Dante wondered if he was even getting any closer, he wondered if Nero was still alive, and prayed to every god he knew and had once forsaken- don’t let anything happen to him, I beg of you!

Rebellion cried for blood, for revenge- like he knew more than Dante did. Not once had the blade Dante had carried nearly his entire life act like this, express such emotion and feel alive . It embodied a mother’s rage, heavy in his hand, drawing demonic energy from their surroundings to feed Dante, to replenish him, and spur him forwards.

Low-tier demons attempted to interrupt them at every turn, and no matter how many Dante cut down, five more would take their place. Rebellion drank deep of demonic blood, his edge taking a crimson sheen, a single crack formed on the surface.

The more demons he cut through, the lighter Rebellion felt to Dante, as the blade force-fed him demonic energy that had been filtered and processed into a purer form. He could access his Devil Trigger once again, and kept his transformation going by tearing through demons. Dante had lost himself to the methods of madness, seemingly foregoing any flashy styles he often used for brute force.

A demonic energy flooded the halls, shorter pieces of his hair standing up like he had gone through an electrical current. Dante recognized this energy, it had been the Yamato-

The walls began to bleed, thousands of tiny cuts appearing on the surface, and each time the walls tried to cover the wounds, more appeared in their place. Little by little, the flesh was peeled back to reveal the metal walls beneath, and the entire facility groaned. The amalgamation had become the foundation, and now that foundation was crumbling.

A bubble formed in one of the walls, expanding quickly, before bursting. Blood spilled forth, and Dante might have taken splash damage- but what he was more interested in was the demon and human corpses following the bloodflow. Newborn hellspawn and bloated corpses alike, followed the divot in the hall, like a drainage system.

Dante could feel it, the Yamato , her presence and energy the strongest he’d felt it in years , since Ver-

He did not have time to reminisce on the past, those no longer in this world. Wherever the Yamato was, would be where Nero is. Beyond the river of the dead, soulless bodies no longer animated like marionettes.

Dante crossed the threshold, just as Nero delivered a fatal blow- the Yamato slicing through the source of the madness, from Credo’s shoulder, down- past his waist.

The concealed mass of flesh began to split apart, revealing the demon young within, the unfertilized eggs, and rotting human corpses. If this was humanity’s view of Ascension , Dante wondered if they were truly worth saving.

Nero dropped the blade as the monster fell back- to the depths it had crawled from. He was drenched in blood from head to toe, but he wasn’t done-

He stuck his own claws through his stomach, tearing through his flesh until he could remove it . It had already fed on his blood and grown, the size of an apple-

He tossed it over the edge as his body struggled to heal. There were still holes in his limbs, a hole in his chest, and now a hole in his stomach. He would wear this scar like Dante did, for demons did not heal those scars. Nero survived, but with the look in his eyes-

It was not Nero who came out of this mess. The scales of his demonic arm had spread, partially over his chest and up his neck. He trembled where he stood, blood coming up his throat, until he doubled over and spat on the ground.

Nero looked to his mother over his shoulder, holding his organs in place- he had torn too much, clawed too deep, too frantically. His voice was barely above a whisper, as he could say it, he could accept it-

“Mom… mom, I… I want to go home. Please . I want to go home-”

Dante dropped Rebellion as he ran to catch Nero as his legs gave out from under him. He swept Nero from his feet- his nestling couldn’t stand for any longer. He would collect the Yamato and Rebellion as he leaned down, Nero weakly wrapping his arms around Dante’s neck so he wouldn’t fall.

Although, Nero trusted Dante enough, knowing he didn’t even have to.

oOo

They left Fortuna with extra passengers, but the captain that Dante had hired once more didn’t question. The Order of the Sword had been left in ruins, the cult had wiped itself out.

Kyriè, and one Nicoletta Goldstein.

Two children, subjects of the Order, discarded like trash, unwanted unlike Nero.

They may have escaped with their lives, but none escaped with their sanity.

Dante was more than willing to welcome them into his establishment- even if it wasn’t the best place to live, it was away from Fortuna, and it could be a home.

Kyriè didn’t cry until the island had disappeared from view.

Nico remained silent, sleeping in a corner of the ship, holding her wrench like it had been her lifeline.

Lady stayed by Trish’s side, the duo quiet, their murmurs occasionally breaking the silence.

Nero was finally free, able to leave his past and Fortuna behind. He wanted to pretend like it never existed, wipe his memory clean of nearly twenty years of waking nightmares.

He wore Dante’s coat, pulled close around his body- he did not need the girls to see what had been done. He believed Kyriè should be spared of knowing- to be spared the fate of knowing any more horrors than she already did- the ones that followed Nero’s original disappearance.

Redgrave City greeted the group like an old lover, a taste of freedom on the wind, the promise of a better future, even if the sun barely shone in the sky.

Her energy did not extend to chasing away nightmares, or those who lurked in the shadows, waiting to take a bite.

Chapter Text

2 Years Later

“Please, for the love of-” Nero held the icepack to his forehead, fanning himself with one hand. “Can we please turn on the air conditioner?!” Nero was dying , it was too hot- curse summer, curse Redgrave’s weather-

“Nero, you can complain about the air conditioning after you get a job. You know Mama can’t juggle extra added onto the power bill.” Kyrié lightly whacked the top of Nero’s head with a wooden spoon, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed in a small pout.

“Excuse you, I do have a job.” Nero placed the icepack on the table- although it had already melted, with condensation pooling on the table.

“Being a demon hunter’s apprentice doesn’t put extra money on the table.” Nero scoffed, leaning back in the chair.

“He won’t let me take commissions on my own, it’s not my fault I can’t help.” Kyrié gave Nero a soft smile, leaning onto his shoulder to offer support.

“Mama’s just worried about you, don’t take it out on him.” Nero leaned in to her side, not complaining any further.

Like they had spoken of the Devil , Dante had come from the kitchen, holding a pot of coffee- by the pot, instead of the handle. Kyrié gave him a pointed look.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” Dante took a sip of the coffee, smirking as Nero cringed at the sight.

“Oh, Nero was just complaining about the heat.” Kyrié flashed Dante a smile, her grip on Nero’s shoulder a bit too tight, her fingers causing the fabric of Nero’s shirt to pull and rumple.

Dante came to Nero’s other side, squishing the poor boy between them both.

“It gets stuffy in here, why don’t you go out for a bit? We should be getting rain soon.” His hand lingered on Nero’s head, awkwardly petting him like one would to a temperamental cat.

Nero leaned into Dante’s hand, stretching to lift his head. A walk did sound like a good idea.

He let Kyrié and Dante fall into their normal morning banter, eventually no longer being squished between them both.

Nero didn’t need an umbrella, he couldn’t get sick from the environment. Nero simply left Devil May Cry , his flip-phone in his pocket, with Blue Rose hidden under his shirt.

Dante had recently given the three allowances- and while the girls accepted it easily, Nero had not. He knew Dante had been pulling out money for himself - whether it be pizza or alcohol, Dante had been skimming on his form of ‘self-care’. Nero didn’t like this, and was struck by the tiniest wave of despair while sticking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, finding a wad of cash that had been hastily shoved inside.

Dante must have done it while they were at the kitchen table- and Nero hadn’t noticed. He had already gone a few blocks down- and couldn’t exactly turn tail the second he realized he’d been ‘paid’. He might as well make use of it.

Nero was technically an adult now. He had finally made it this far, which meant he could try out Redgrave’s more questionable nightlife. Go to a strip-club for the first time, visit a sex-shop to see toys . None of these things actually interested Nero- he only wanted to hunt demons, and eventually start a mobile Devil May Cry business with Nico.

They had to fix the van first. Whatever pocket change Nero had wouldn’t be enough for another spare part- but he should have enough to buy everyone gifts. Ironic that Nero was buying gifts for others on his own birthday. Nico would likely want a new power tool- she loved her ‘babies’ after all. Kyrié was more difficult to shop for- she constantly bounced between obsessed with the occult, and obsessing over the rest of the household like she was the mother .

Honest to the gods, Nero had no fucking clue what Dante would want. Something red? A bouquet of roses? Beer? Nero couldn’t even purchase alcohol, and bringing a pizza when he already had things in mind for his sisters would be an insult. No, Nero had to find something meaningful.

The girls and his mother were the only things keeping Nero going anymore. Dante’s stupid, incoherent babbling, especially in the mornings- Nero held every word close to heart. How Dante would genuinely teach him how to wield his weapons- slowly crafting Nero into the perfect instrument of destruction. Perhaps if Nero knew how Devil Arms were made, he’d get Dante a new one- he seemed to like having an insanely sized arsenal.

Nero made his way to a hardware shop, remembering that Nico had been wanting a new ratchet set- which of course, Nero had to stop outside and actually count the cash he had on hand. More than enough - courtesy of Dante. Without a second thought, Nero entered the hardware store.

He had no clue what he was looking for. Nero was the one who just held the flashlight and scolded for not holding the flashlight straight when he pointed it too far in a direction Nico didn’t need. 

He could wander for a while, trying to familiarize himself with the power-tools, all the shiny wrenches, ratchets, and different types of screws. Nero had no clue what most of it meant.

He had been wandering the store for nearly an hour out of confusion before one of the employees approached him.

“Excuse me sir, is there anything we can help you with?” Nero slowly looked up from the plethora of tool-sets. He looked lost .

“Uh… actually, yes. I’m trying to get… a gift for my sister. She’s really into tools, and um…she needed new… ratchets? For.. uh…” Nero lifted his human hand, to the smudged writing he had made earlier that morning as he listened to Nico complain about rusty tools-

“Lug nuts. That’s a weird word, but-” The employee waved off his embarrassment, chuckling.

“Oh, yeah, some of the stuff have weird names, but don’t worry about it! It’s sweet of you to get her new tools! I can help you out, don’t worry.” 

Nero fished out his phone, and through the long and arduous process of texting , learned the sizes Nico needed for the van. The employee stayed true to their word, helping Nero find what he needed- and of course, Nero bought a few extra items. Extra shiny just for Nico.

He left the store with a heavy bag on his arm, satisfied with the first part of his shopping journey. A gift for Kyrié was next on his list- and Nero knew exactly where to go. 

The mall .

oOo

Nero wasn’t the best with malls, or crowds of people. He knew what shops he had to visit, and wanted it done as quickly as possible. The walls were closing in, he could hear too many heartbeats as the crowd passed him, they moved like the sea of corpses, chattering animatedly.

Nero could handle this. He made a beeline for one of the jewelry shops, intent on finding a new necklace for Kyrié. Something simple, perhaps green to match her eyes, and Nero knew it would be expensive- and he certainly didn’t look like he belonged in a jewelry shop.

Nero had to calmly and sheepishly explain he was there to get a gift for his sister, and one of the clerks wasted no time in helping him find something perfect for Kyrié. It was a delicate necklace, on an even thinner silver chain. A deep purple, raw-cut gemstone was nestled in the middle, like a tiny burst of stars that refracted light into a lavender hue. The gem was held in place by twisting strands of silver, with miniscule diamonds embedded in the silver.

Like the necklace itself was wrapped like a gift, Nero handed over the cash to the employee’s surprise- and received a small gift box as an additive. Another bag slid onto his wrist, and Nero had only two more places to stop at.

The mall had an occult store- and he quickly picked up a leather-bound, parchment paper journal with the Tree of Life on the cover. All that was left for Nero was a bouquet of roses from the florist- for Dante .

Nero really should have stopped to think how much he would be carrying by the time he finally left the mall- he had picked up a few extra items, stopped for icecream, and toured a small part of the mall.

The sky had gone gray, which Nero knew it would rain soon. It was at least a fourty-five minute walk home, which meant Nero had time to himself. Listening to the cars pass him by, the chatter of humans clogging the sidewalks, entering stores and restaurants. Redgrave was normal compared to Fortuna. A little dreary, often quiet, but it was a hot, humid summer day.

There were some fishermen by the docks, with their coolers filled with ice, bait and beer. Nero saw a few junkies on the underpass of the bridge, and a woman in a tiny black dress and red heels giving gratuitous head to a disinterested looking man that pulled her ponytail. Redgrave was alive , thrumming with life on every corner. Human, demon, half-breed in only a few cases.

The city felt like home , where Nero belonged. For the first time in years, a smile slid into place- naturally, almost like hope had been reignited. There was no light in his eyes, but a fire that once again began to burn at his core.

For the better half of nearly an hour, Nero hummed as he walked, only briefly making eye contact with passerby. All was well, he was safe- the Order would never lay their hands on him ever again.

Nero stopped in front of an alleyway- something children shouldn’t do- given the part of the city Dante lived in. There could be a demon lurking behind a trashcan, a human passed out shitfaced drunk and naked lying in a puddle of their own puke. There could be a drug deal at a dead end. Nero wasn’t a child, and yet he shouldn’t linger.

His demonic arm tingled, and he felt an almost hypnotic pull- he wanted to head down that alleyway. Nero could handle being mugged by a random human- but this… this wasn’t human. Something was calling to him, a familiar energy curling around his very soul . Nero nearly dropped the bouquet in his arms.

He answered the pull, pivoting on his heel mechanically. Every movement was stiff, and Nero was walking through a daze. He couldn’t see anyone- anything in the alleyway, even after taking a left turn. Only the windows of an old, mostly desolate apartment building greeted him. The glow of his arm had grown a little brighter, perfect timing as it had just begun to drizzle.

Nero looked around, paying attention to every shadow, every corner, every crevice. There had been nothing, not even a scampering rat. Perhaps it had been nothing except Nero’s anxiety. There was nothing here, nothing out of the ordinary-

Nero felt an arm on his shoulder, claws sliding between the plates of his demonic arm. Memories flashed in Nero’s mind- the scalpels, prying his scales from his body, tearing into his flesh until they touched bone-

Nero slowly turned his head. He didn’t know who or what was behind him, and he was scared to ask, he was terrified- could it have been the Order ? Had they reformed? Had they found him-

Nero was hyperventilating, yet stopped breathing for a moment once he saw the man who simply had their hand on his shoulder. 

Their nails may have been sharp claws, yet they did not dig into his skin. Some of his scales had merely shifted when the man grabbed him.

“ ...Dearest. ” The voice was not Credo’s, the voice was not Dante’s. Nero had never heard this man’s voice in his life, thin and nasally, with the tinge of a demonic echo. Nero could hear the man’s heartbeat, weak and on the verge of death, every beat another struggle that almost stuttered to a stop. They had addressed Nero so affectionately , which gave him pause.

Nero couldn’t control the whine that died in his throat, or the shiver that crawled up his spine. The man’s hand on his shoulder left him tingling, a sensation bordering on toe-curling from such a simple touch . Nero couldn’t breathe , he was the deer caught in the headlights, entirely focused on the hypnotic, faintly glowing eyes that stared into his very soul.

They were gentle, reverent, cupping Nero’s cheek to turn his head. The man leaned forward, and pressed his lips to Nero’s. Electricity , humming, demonic energy singing, reacting, thrashing - Nero felt sick. He had been flooded with an odd sensation, like he had returned to someone he never knew. His chest constricted painfully once those lips left his, the smallest cut on his bottom lip from a fang.

“ Happy… birth…day. Nero.” Nero choked on air as the man pressed his dry, flaking, scratchy cheek to his, leaving the sweet scent of decay upon Nero’s skin. His inner demon was in shambles . The lingering smell of a dying beast had Nero salivating, while the strings of his heart were plucked with cold hands.

Nero whirled on his feet, nearly dropping the bags he had been carrying. He did not know this demon, and yet they knew his name. His senses were muddled by the demon’s scent, as he fought through the haze, squinting to see.

The tattered cloak they wore, and Nero could only stare as they reached beneath the beige fabric-

To offer Nero a small box. A gift for him. A gift from somebody he didn’t know. It seemed to be a jewelry box, the suede fabric torn and burnt. Nero took the box from their hand, feeling the same tingle of energy once their fingers touched. The same spark once he received a kiss.

Nero blinked, and they were gone. The only proof the man had been there was the scent stuck in his nose, and the jewelry box in his hand. Nero pocketed it, he didn’t want the rain to damage the exterior any further.

The rain had begun to pick up, which had Nero sprinting home, arms full of the random junk he had picked up for his family. Each item is hand-picked, just for them . It was a struggle to open the doors to Devil May Cry with one arm, but Nero managed just as it began to truly downpour.

He went to set the bags down on the table, and immediately noticed it was quiet. Too quiet .

“...Mom?” Nero could hear shuffling in the kitchen, and then the clattering of the pots and pans falling. Nero couldn’t smell any of them- all he could smell was that damn demon! Where were they? Had they left him behind? On his birthday, no less.

Nero couldn’t breathe again, his arm burned as his chest hurt-

His headache nearly blinded him. Nero couldn’t hear the chatter from the kitchen, they were right there . Nero couldn’t hear the ceiling fan, the electrical buzz of the lights, the muted background music from the television. He could hear the way he wheezed as he gasped, choking on the very air he needed. His heart hammered in his chest, his heartbeat was too loud , he wanted it to be quiet.

“...ro?” Dante had flour and cherry pie filling on his hands, after an unfortunate accident in the kitchen. He had heard when Nero had entered the building, and even called to respond to him, but Nero said nothing afterwards. Nero wasn’t quiet- ever . Which meant Dante came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron that said ‘not today satan!’

He found Nero with his head in his hands, hyperventilating as he sobbed. Like he’d lost something, had a bad day, got triggered by something while out on his own-

Dante pried Nero’s hands from his face, and recognition flashed in Nero’s eyes. His mouth had snapped shut, only opening so he could hiccup.

“Hey baby… you okay?” Nero nodded, not trusting his own voice- closing the distance that was left between them. Burying his face into the apron, listening to Dante’s heartbeat- reminding himself that Dante was real . Dante wrapped his arms around Nero without a second thought, kissing the top of his head. His inner demon reacted viciously .

“Sorry, sorry, I… I couldn’t hear you, and I panicked.” Nero was apologizing, Dante knew this, and he shushed him as his instincts sent his mind to war with itself. Push and pull, comfort, devour . He sniffed Nero’s hair, and eventually his cheek. There was a distinctly inhuman smell that clung to Nero’s skin, that had a low rumble in Dante’s chest, half-caught between a purr and a growl.

Nero froze. Mother was behaving strangely, sniffing him like a dog would to a container of treats. Investigating. Nero tilted his head to allow Dante better access to his neck, feeling the condensation on his skin from Dante panting against his throat. The soft, broken whimper Dante made, that had Nero wanting to curl in on himself.

His inner demon recognized it as mourning , like Dante had been reminded of something he had already lost. And that scent clung to Nero.

“ Dante , look at me.” Dante flinched like he had been shocked.

“I’m here. Sorry, uh. You just… smell like someone. That I… used to know.” Dante pulled away, and Nero could tell he was feigning embarrassment. Perhaps that man in the alleyway had truly existed?

Nero could feel the weight of the small jewelry box in his pocket. No, it was reality, this was reality.

“Why the hell are you covered in flour?” Nero placed his hands on Dante’s hips, leaning away while steadying himself. His graphic-tee was ruined , covered in flour and… sticky red. “What the fuck?”

“I was tryin’ to make pie.” Cherry, by the looks of it, once Nero dipped his finger into some of the filling still on Dante’s apron. His favorite flavor, but why-

“I keep telling you guys not to celebrate my birthday. I never have before.” Nero was torn between being upset over his favorite shirt, being embarrassed, or annoyed. Nothing seemed to ever get through their heads…

“Yeah, but… you just turned twenty. That’s something to celebrate, right? Two whole decades? Don’t you feel old ?” Dante tilted his head as he smiled smugly.

“What about you? Don’t you feel old yet?” Nero’s retort held no malice to it, complete with baring his fangs and glancing to Dante’s throat.

“I am literally thirty-nine.” Dead-pan, completely monotone. Nero felt like he just had a hammer dropped on his head, and he could hear Nico and Kyrié sputtering from the kitchen doorway.

“ Huh ? How fuckin’ reckless were you to have a kid at nineteen?” Dante snorted, tilting his head away haughtily.

“I was a whore in my teen years, thank you very much. My diva era has yet to end.” Nero blinked, agonizingly slow, just as Nico giggled from the doorway.

“Did you even know my father?” Dante looked to Nero from the corner of his eye, and Nero knew he had struck a nerve. Dante didn’t show any expression for several seconds, his lips barely parted.

“ Yes .” Dante wasn’t… mad with him. He sounded sad, and focused on staring at the ceiling. “He’s dead though. Sorry you never got to meet him.”

Nero had gone and made things awkward, but he didn’t mind more flour and cherry pie filling on his shirt if it meant he could give Dante another hug.

“It’s not your fault, don’t worry about it.” Dante paid attention once again- no longer looking to the phantoms that had phased through the ceiling, taunting him, demanding he tell Nero the truth . No, not today.

“Happy birthday, even if you don’t like it. I uh… got you some stuff.”

“...I got you guys stuff too.” Nero sighed out of exasperation, letting go of Dante to run a hand through his hair. He gestured to the table with one hand, like he had merely been dismissing it. “It’s technically my birthday, but… I wanted to get you three some stuff. So I did. Hope you like it.”

Nero gave Nico her tools, Kyrié her necklace, and Dante the bouquet of roses.

His face was red the entire time, and his palms unfortunately sweaty, cold and clammy-

Nero might have squeaked when he got sandwiched into a three-way hug, but his pride would never let him admit such.

The jewelry box in his pocket felt too heavy to mention.

Chapter Text

The demon was simply another pawn in Mundus’ army, one that he sought to grow to divide, conquer, claim, and desecrate. Wearing their shining armor, curling horns like a ram, and their labored, wheezing breath that made Dante wonder if they could even truly be an opponent.

Their blades clashed for hours, and Dante was beginning to tire, blood dripping from his chin as the demon’s blade lodged itself in his chest. The demon twisted their sword, their intentions clear, their order was to kill the half-demon, and that command lingered.

Dante’s face twisted, as he reached for the blade in his chest. The edge cut through his gloves, and into his hand.

“Don’t… sell me… short! Bastard!” The demon’s glowing red eyes was all Dante could see through the helmet- and they had not looked down, they were simply breathing as they stared at Dante.

He pulled Ebony from her holster, aiming at the demon’s head. Dante had to focus his energy as quickly as possible- 

The blast had shattered their helmet and dislocated Dante’s shoulder, causing the demon to stumble back. Dante ripped the blade from his chest- his blood splattered on the cracked silver armor.

The demon held their hands to their face, trying to keep their mask in place, as it kept crumbling. They were holding on to what they had left, unwilling to let Dante see them-

Dante thought nothing of it, brandishing Rebellion from where it had fallen. Disarmed and struck in the chest- always so familiar, and quite often his unmistakable fate. The movement aggravated his wounds, but Dante could fight through it- he always had before.

Pivoting on his heel to slice through the demon’s neck, just as their hands were removed from their face, their expression contorting in shock. Those red eyes were empty, unblinking.

Dante realized… far too late. As blue flames roared to life from the demon, who gurgled and choked on their own blood, trying to apply pressure, their hands at their neck.

He burned, leaving only an amulet behind.

Dante had stood there, watching his brother burn. His lover, his mate, his other half that held the key to his heart.

Beneath the suit of armor, beneath that hardened exterior that reminded Dante of a statue, had been his Vergil.

Dante awoke drenched in sweat, his chest constricting painfully, as he gasped for air. Why did he have to remember- why did his memories have to torment him now ? He slapped one hand over his face, slicking his hair back as he panted in the darkness of his room.

Darkness ? There should have been a faint blue light next to him, his candlelight.

Dante tossed the covers from his body as he stood, stumbling as the comforter got caught on his ankle. Nero’s absence following his nightmare made Dante forget about the pain in his chest- he had only one train of thought, to find his nestling-

Nero’s shoes were missing, as was his phone. There were no lights on in the hallway, not even the girls’ rooms. Dante was fine, he could handle this. Nero could be downstairs, drinking milk directly from the gallon at a time his sisters wouldn’t see him doing so.

Nero could be out for a walk, all alone in Capulet City at three AM in the morning. Hunting demons late at night when Dante asks him not to go outside, Nero could be anywhere . Dante has to tell himself, repeat like a mantra, it will be fine, Nero will be fine.

Dante grabbed his bottle of whiskey from beside his bedroom door, making a beeline for the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. He could find his anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and an unopened bottle of melatonin. Dante in a better state of mind, wouldn’t .

He washed his own medications down with a copious swig of whiskey, before setting both the alcohol and the bottle of melatonin on the bathroom sink. Dante peered into the eyes of his reflection for several minutes, committing his own face to memory.

His , not Vergil’s. There were no ghosts with him tonight, they had been absent for the past two months following Nero’s birthday. Dante was able to look at himself, with faintly glowing eyes, and puffy eyelids from crying in his sleep.

Maybe Nero had left because Dante had been crying in his sleep. Mother wasn’t supposed to show his broken heart so easily, or the cracks in his poorly crafted façade that had been formed over several decades. Dante undressed himself slowly, he was wearing some Halloween-themed t-shirt and his boxers. Lifting the shirt over his head with trembling, reverent hands.

Dante had to learn what he looked like, after all. Pale skin with an uneven tan, littered with scars from Demon Arms that never quite healed properly. The jagged scars over his heart, each with varying degrees of lightness, where he had been stabbed many times- often by Vergil .

Dante found it ironic that such poetic justice had been delivered upon him- the other half of himself that had been his entire world, died by his hand, had not only damaged his heart in emotional ways, but physically as well. 

His hair had grown out again, reaching past his chin, like he wore it when he was younger. Dante had changed his hairstyle a few times in the past twenty years, always with some intent to hide his face.

Standing in the dark, Dante slicked his hair back and choked on air. Looking down to the scar that he had made himself twenty years ago, tearing his nestling from his own body. Still pink after all these years, like it was still fresh . Four divots directly over his womb, up to his bottom rib.

Dante really did tear himself apart back then, didn’t he?

He grabbed the bottle of melatonin, pouring a handful of pills into his palm. Popped them into his mouth like candy, washed down by half a bottle of whiskey in one go. Dante was glad he didn’t fall asleep in his devil-hunting uniform, he didn’t need Ebony and Ivory so easily accessible when he felt like this.

Hating his own appearance and his body, while his mind had focused entirely on his twin. He needed a shower. Dante dropped his boxers to his ankles, stepping out of the underwear and leaving them on the bathroom tile. Standing in the bathroom, as naked as the day he was born, full of narcotics he had taken himself.

Dante finally flipped the lightswitch, bathing himself in a cool white glow that made him look even paler in the mirror. He needed to get away from the mirror, reaching for the faucet and setting the hot to maximum.

He slid his way past the shower curtain as a wave of dizziness hit him. Dante needed to sit down, lean against the back of the tub with one arm slung over the rim.

He closed his eyes, and let himself go, for even a little while.

oOo

Nero had awoken from a nightmare of his own only half an hour before Dante did, drenched in cold sweat. Some nights, he would dream of Credo and what he had done, human or not. This was one of those nights- Nero just needed to get out of such a small room. Dante was asleep, clearly caught in a fitful trance. Nero didn’t want to leave Dante alone, but he needed out .

He left the bed as slowly as he could to not startle Dante awake, sliding his crocodile themed slippers on, and went downstairs.

Nero didn’t need to turn on the lights, he had a built-in glowstick of an arm to illuminate the kitchen, with devious intentions of raiding the cupboards for snacks. He found a box of thin mints, and decided that was good enough.

Nico would skin him alive if she saw him eating her cookies, but at this moment, Nero could care less. Anything to get the taste of bile out of his mouth, the memories to be silenced .

The jewelry box remained on the counter where Nero had set it down before rummaging through the cabinets. It had a magnetic pull that had been preventing him from parting with it, and even now, Nero had the urge to pick it up, if only to hold it. He had never opened the jewelry box, it could have been cursed for all he knew.

Nero reached into the unfortunately now empty box of thin mints, sighing. He tossed the empty box onto the recycling pile, and once again whirled his attention directly on the jewelry box. The damn thing looked like it had survived a fire .

Curiosity was about to eat Nero alive, in a kitchen where the only light he had was from his arm. Nero gave in within seconds, snatching the small velvety box from the counter, and opening it with a quiet click.

It was a ring, and Nero was positive it was cursed. Bulky, with shining gold, and he noticed finally that it was heavy in his hand. The ring was crusted with old blood, and the interior of the jewelry box was just as damaged as the exterior- torn, burnt, and bloody. The smell wafting into his nose had Nero want to recoil and shut it, yet-

“... Eva… ?” There was a name, embroidered onto the inner backing of the case, the thread pure white and giving off the faintest trace of demonic energy. It seemed to react to the light of Nero’s arm, shifting to a faint blue that flickered and dimmed. An energy similar to his own, and yet distinct, different, and faintly reminding Nero of Dante. Further , like Dante had only been a piece.

Nero was only a piece. The energy from the thread felt like a whole , a demon- a pure demon. Perhaps the name was embroidered with hair, like a protective talisman that had prevented the jewelry box from truly being destroyed.

Nero rubbed circles onto the flat surface of the ring, wiping away the old blood that had nearly turned to dust, revealing an insignia- perhaps a crest . It was similar to the one Nero had seen on the upper sleeve of one of Dante’s many red jackets. The golden band exuded demon energy, far greater than the embroidery had. The insignia was made of bone , carefully carved and inlaid in the gold.

It was not gold in Nero’s hands, it was a thick keratin, made clearly of a demon’s horns. This wasn’t a curse , it was a claim, it was a protective talisman the longer Nero stared at it. It was a claim , something deep and primal that had the demon in the back of his mind preening.

The ring shifted sizes once removed from the jewelry box, from the smallest size for a pinky, to a myriad of sizes too large for Nero’s human hand. Perhaps, then…

It fit perfectly onto the middle finger of his demonic arm- which Nico had recently coined the title Devil Bringer . The ring resized itself to fit on his finger, a single band that lacked light on his glowing, claw-tipped hand. It had a soothing effect on his demon, like it had been wrapped in a blanket of pheromones and comfort, longing and love . The woman who owned it before him must have truly been adored.

Nero wondered if there had ever been someone in his life that loved him like the previous wearer of the ring had been. Protectively, obsessively, where they could feel it in their bones. Their scent curling into his brain, blood wasn’t the only liquid that had long dried onto the ring.

They had been claimed, they had been-

Pinned, mounted, stuffed, bred . Nero’s olfactory senses could paint him an entire picture, just as the demonic energy reacting to his own helped supply the image. Eva had been the human wife, the lover to a demon, a mother. The ring Nero wore now-

Had been made entirely from the demon that had claimed her. Nero choked on a gasp, wondering what the fuck kind of ‘gift’ he had been given. To remind him of what he did not have? What he did not deserve? Nero didn’t have anyone who lov-

Mother . Nero had left Dante alone upstairs, when he clearly needed him. Foolish scum. He couldn’t close the jewelry box fast enough- shoving it into his Devil Bringer that easily absorbed the box. He had been right, then, not needing to carry it around like someone carries around a damn engagement ring- the box had been enchanted, or simply made of demonic materials just like the ring itself.

Nero’s slippers muffled his footsteps as he ran up the stairs, barreling into their shared bedroom. Dante was unpredictably absent, which had Nero sniffing the air like a blood-hound for any traces of Dante’s scent, where he had gone. The trail led directly down the hall to the bathroom. Nero could relax, then.

He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the better half of an hour- and Nero was getting restless. Dante didn’t even take showers that long. With a huff Nero pushed himself off the bed, telling himself he was just being paranoid, that Dante was more than capable of taking a late-night bath by himself.

The bathroom light was off, and Nero could smell blood. Nero entered without knocking, holding his Devil Bringer in front of him to illuminate the room. The emptied bottle of alcohol, the spilt bottle of melatonin, and Dante’s various medications he ‘acquired’.

Nero could hear the sloshing of water in the tub, and soft breathing. He pulled open the shower curtain, seeing Dante with his head on the back of the tub, blood dried to his upper lip, from his nose.

“...Dante?” The older devil-hunter barely stirred, cracking an eye open as he struggled to focus on Nero.

“Hey kid.” Two words, slow and slurred, as Dante sighed from the effort it had even taken to speak them. He had enough narcotics in his system to kill at least five men, forcing himself to relax so his demon blood would take longer than normal to patch him up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nero questioned his mother softly as he sat on the edge of the tub, dipping his Devil Bringer into the tepid waves. Cold , it was cold, just like the hand that grabbed his wrist.

“Tryin’ to forget.” Dante slowly stirred as he took Nero’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers as he focused on the ring Nero wore. It reminded him of his mother. Dante squinted in the light from Nero’s arm, tugging his nestling closer-

That is his mother’s ring. Dante hadn’t seen it since he was a child, the last time on her hand, as she told him to hide. He’s much older now, with only fragmented memories, the only way he remembers her face is the photo he keeps on his desk.

His father’s energy, entirely familiar from the Devil Sword Sparda that held his will, the love for humanity. Raw, unfiltered, from a ring made entirely of him . Dante’s own demon reached out for it instinctively, feeling Nero’s energy instead. Chaotic, wild, and entirely theirs . 

Nero parted his lips, something in him finally breaking, that final wall that fell, as their energy danced around them, his blood simmered in his veins. Perhaps the ring was cursed, the way he shed his clothes to join Dante in the room temperature water.

The ring- Nero could keep blaming the ring, for the way he fit so perfectly against Dante’s body, their scars aligning like stars that had been made to fit.

Nero finally knew it then, he was made for Dante, his body knew it as well, his inner demon, that was beside itself, purrs rumbling in his chest as his lips slid against Dante’s.

Nero had always been his missing puzzle piece, with diminishing baby fat that had slowly been tearing away from his youthful appearance, no longer the broken teen that had barreled into his life.

Nero was content to wrap his arms around Dante’s neck, gasping as fangs teased his bottom lip. Cutting deep and drawing blood, that Dante lapped up lazily, wanted nothing more than to kiss away his pain, to taste Nero on his tongue.

Nero, that was painfully hard, cock trapped between them. Nero, that still held the flavor of Vergil on his skin, stroking the flames of a fading memory that Dante had drank himself into oblivion one too many times to forget.

Nero spread his legs, lifting himself up by Dante’s shoulders to seat himself properly, still entirely focused on the languid, tired kisses they shared. Dante felt the drag, the push, the resistance, he could smell the blood in the air. Nero pulled away to moan softly, as a thin string of saliva connected their lips.

The blood in the water went entirely ignored for Nero’s heart hammering in his chest, the way his hips stuttered and rolled. He leaned forward for another kiss, this one with fervor behind it, instincts bubbling to the surface that begged to be devoured .

Dante was exactly what Nero was always missing. Dante, who nipped at his jaw, his Dante that held him by the hips so gently , not even bruises. Dante licked a wet stripe from his collarbone to his jaw, wiping away any trace of that nightmare that clung to his skin.

Nero’s claws dug into his shoulder as restraint had been thrown out the window, tearing through tender flesh, blood rolling down Dante’s chest in thick, fragrant rivulets. Dante inside of him had wiped his mind clean , cock buried deep as he bit at Nero’s chest, abusing a single bud with his tongue.

Nero didn’t bother to ask who Dante thought he was- there was a haze in his eyes, a veil that never lifted. He only wanted to be loved, to finally be used with his consent. Dante had it and more.

They lost themselves together, instincts coming to the surface as what had begun as something as slow as flowing honey quickly became a hormonally charged, frantic rutting. Nero couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer, head thrown back as his guttural moans were shamelessly ripped from his body.

Dante bit into Nero’s flesh, where the tip of his scar began- the same scar Nero inflicted on himself, the very scar that Dante could mirror.

Two dysfunctional parents chasing release. Nero had always wanted to know what it felt like- to simply be enveloped, held like this.

Dante’s fangs at his shoulder had Nero coming with a cry, slumping forward as Dante mercilessly thrust into him, chasing his own high, chasing that fading memory of someone Nero never knew existed. Nero welcomed the surge of blinding heat that filled him, a comforting warmth that had settled into his core.

They were both left panting, ultimately whole once again. Nero could feel that pull he always had, a live hot wire that finally felt alive .

Dante drained the tub, lifting Nero from his feet and carrying him to their bedroom. His own healing ability had cleared every trace of medications and alcohol from his system, left entirely too raw, too vulnerable. He took solace in Nero’s body, over and over again- a body too welcoming and accommodating for him.

The sun had long since risen by the time Nero fell asleep, a mess of tangled limbs, holding onto Dante, refusing to let go. Dante had run his fingers through Nero’s hair until he relaxed, blinking slowly, and inevitably succumbing to the sleep that had eluded him hours prior.

Dante studied Nero’s features in the dim light, seeing the mesh of himself and his mate. From Nero’s cheekbones, nose, and the curve of his lips- he was the perfect patchwork of them both. Dante couldn’t contain his purrs, like a lullaby that kept Nero unconscious in his arms. He left a kiss on Nero's forehead, praising him silently that he would not see Dante’s tears.

Thank you, Vergil. He’s perfect.

oOo

They sensed it, a familiar presence that had abandoned them. Shifting, changing shapes, hidden in their nest beneath an abandoned bridge. A demon nest was nearby, the demons were nutrients for a growing beast. Flesh tore as bones splintered and cracked, the demon retreating into its fleshy cocoon to change, to shift, to be reborn.

It had seen its creator, the mother who had left it for dead. It had feasted on the bones and flesh of its father, but desired more power, to consume, to become. It has no name.

Chapter Text

“In the past forty-eight hours, eighteen have gone missing and thirteen more have been found dead…”

“Series of attacks-”

“Destroyed underpass trapping several-”

Kyrié shut the TV off. None of them were listening, not truly. Dante was laying on the couch, Nero sprawled on top of him. Nico sat on Dante’s legs, fiddling with a new gun in her hand. Kyrié didn’t know if it was loaded.

She bunched the hem of her skirt in her hands, puffing her cheeks out in frustration. Today was the day. She was going to ask, and prayed she didn’t get shut down. She had already asked Nico to borrow one of her custom-made Devil Arms, a pistol that while wasn’t as powerful as Ebony or Ivory- would do the trick.

Kyrié even had a short-sword, courtesy of Nico once again. Kyrié had made herself a uniform, putting all that sewing knowledge to good use. Durable, complete with holsters for her new weapons. She had recently trimmed her hair, free of split ends, and her bangs once again framing her face. Kyrié was ready.

“Mama, can I ask you something?” Dante’s sleepy hum of acknowledgement had her ears burning. Kyrié smacked his leg until Dante paid attention, opening his eyes and pulling Nero’s unconscious body over his knees so she couldn’t assault them next.

“Y-yeah, okay, I’m listening.” Verbal was better than nothing.

“...Can I go devil-hunting yet? We’ve been practicing for years. You take Nero out all the time, when is it my turn?” Kyrié couldn’t even use a childish pout on Dante, she had to show that she was serious, but not above begging if she had to, she’s been practicing for a long time, she has enough medical knowledge from having to patch the boys up, she’s willing to fight if she has to, she-

“Yeah, sure, if you take Nero with you.” Dante simply shoved the pizza crust he had into his mouth, chewing boredly as he stared at the blank TV screen. “Can you turn the TV back on?”

“Huh?” Kyrié’s entire thought process paused, as she gave Dante an incredulous look. There was always the chance he hadn’t been paying attention. “...Are you sure?” She clicked the TV back on for him, seeing the way he blinked slowly.

“Why don’t you two investigate the disappearances by the dock while me and the girls check out downtown?” Something told Kyrié that Dante already had a job lined up, which meant she would get to see Auntie Lady and Auntie Trish-

Before they split up. If Kyrié hadn’t asked, would this have been Nero’s first solo mission, then? She couldn’t help but feel guilty as she looked at her younger brother’s peacefully sleeping form, his Devil Bringer tucked between him and Dante, that new ring of his pulling in wisps of light and energy from his arm.

Claws placed right over Dante’s heart, where they- where he belongs. Nero was comfortable, truly at peace-

Which ended the second Dante smacked the back of his head with a spiral notebook that Nico handed him without looking over. Kyrié could almost watch in slow motion as Nero stirred, and bit Dante as retaliation before he had even truly awoken.

“Ah, fuck!” Dante’s cry accompanied by him scooting up the couch and jostling both Nico and Nero fully woke the youngest up entirely, Nero scrambling to detach his teeth from Dante’s collarbone. Some flesh was torn as Dante covered the bite with one hand, his face nearly as red as his signature duster.

“Sorry, sorry- what were we talking about?” Nero wiped his mouth of Dante’s blood, an odd rumble resounding in his chest. Kyrié sighed, brushing her bangs back with both hands.

“Mama said we could go on a mission together.” Nero took a moment to process, and eventually his eyes lit up in excitement.

“Just… just you and me? Alone?” Kyrié nodded, while she broke out in a wide grin. Nico returned it with a wild look in her eyes, tossing the gun she was fiddling with to the floor.

“And ya bet’cha I’ll be the driver! Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you two dipsticks go anywhere on your own.” The three were already on the same wavelength, overly excited from the notion of a mission entirely their own. Just as they began their tangent of a three-way infodump, completely scrambled brain cells with no coherent plan, Dante broke through their banter.

“I get that you’re all excited, but Lady’s made a plan for you three that you better fuckin’ follow or else I’ll have all your asses grounded.” He sat up and leaned against the armrest of the couch, pointing the tiniest scrap of pizza crust in their direction. “Nero will be fine, but that doesn’t mean I want you three to go out of your way to get hurt. I expect everyone to come back alive, and mostly unharmed.”

Dante knew it hadn’t fully gone through their heads, and hoped they’d only take him seriously when Lady arrived.

oOo

Lady and Trish arrived less than half an hour later, both with their weapons and seemingly ready to leave. Both were amused by Dante’s exasperation as he tried to drill the ‘plan’ into the kids’ heads, with Nero and Kyrié pretending to pay attention, having stopped listening several minutes prior. Nico hadn’t been listening from the start.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Aspiring little demon hunters ignoring an Elder’s advice?” Trish propped Devil Sword Sparda against the wall, crossing her arms as she regarded the disobedient, trouble-making trio.

Nico was always excited when Trish was around, eager to show her the newest Devil-Arm she had made out of scraps, and in turn, Trish sometimes brought her materials for the mechanic to work with.

Trish already had what looked like the stinger of a scorpion-like demon in hand for Nico to take, a smirk on her features as Nico turned it in her hand, muttering to herself.

“I ain’t causin’ trouble, that’s their job.” Nico was ready to slip through the door and run to her workstation in the van, but was caught by the back of her shirt by Lady.

“No, you’re all going to listen because we don’t trust any of you to follow instructions or rules unless directly given orders.” Lady gave Nico a pointed glare as she dragged the young Goldstein back to the couch, tossing her to Nero. “And that includes you too, Nico. Especially you.” 

Nico crossed her arms, idly tapping her fingers on her bicep as she held the stinger with her gloved hand. She shoulder-checked Nero hard, watching him nearly fly into Kyrié’s side and snapping his teeth in the air in her direction.

“...Okay, behave kids.” Lady set a map onto the coffee table, brushing off an empty pizza box that Dante had left off and a few old bottles of beer that were thankfully empty.

“There’s a road that will take you to an old drainage system that was discontinued… uh, roughly fifty years ago. Think of an underground maze- a labyrinth if you want. This system is usually used for dealers and prostitutes, hell, there’s an entire trash city down there.” Lady dragged her finger across the map, starting at near the canals, and then further into the city.

“The rich and everyone up top don’t give two shits about the poor and homeless down there, but we do. One of our contacts that monitors the black market reported disappearances only a few days after it started happening above ground.” Lady tapped an empty block on the map, which the trio could recognize as an old warehouse, one that sometimes had illegal raves. That Kyrié may or may not have visited before.

“We’re going to investigate the surface. There’s a pattern to the disappearances,” Lady drew on the map with a red marker, circling each area where a person had gone missing- “Which means this could either simply be a gang lashing out, or demons. You three should fit right in down there thanks to Nero’s appearance. Anyone that looks like Dante doesn’t get fucked with because… of his history. So make sure you two stay by Nero’s side at all times.” She pointed to the girls with her marker, nodding at their silence. Good enough.

Dante picked up Nico’s discarded weapon, holding it out for her.

“You can think of it as a testing ground for your babies, go all out if you want to. But remember if something backfires or doesn’t quite work yet, that’s okay. You have Nero with you.” Nico nodded, sliding the custom pistol inside of her jacket.

Lady went over the rest of the directions, especially the no-consumption rule. They were to take nothing, speak to no one except their contact, someone who had picked up and expanded Enzo’s business after his death several years prior.

Nero was mostly excited to learn that it was a different job than the one the actual devil-hunter trio were taking- a job all their own.

oOo

Nico put away the new demon material into the closed off section of the camper van, in a shelf that contained various other demon parts for her to experiment with. Once Dante, Lady, and Trish left, Nico was free to open the glove compartment to pull out her pack of cigarettes. Nero fussed as he rolled the windows down, yet still took time to light her cigarette for her.

“Is anyone else nervous or is it just me?”  Nico took a long drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window. Nero sat in the front seat and still waved a hand in front of his face, nose scrunched as he glared at her from the corner of his eye.

“Situations like these Nico, we don’t talk about our feelings.” Nero stuck his head out the window, distaste written on his features as he tried to escape the smoke in the air while still following traffic laws.

“So the answer is yes. You’re nervous, excited like me probably, and… what else? Talk to me lil’ bro, I can’t read your mind when your default face is a restin’ bitch face.” Nero had a feeling it was going to be a very long drive.

“Thanks, Nico, I really feel the love over here.” He could hear her incessant tapping on the steering wheel, one finger tipped with chipped nail polish continuously clicking, snapping his senses in two. “...I’m worried.”

“Was that hard?” Nero could see Nico’s grin from the corner of his eye before she took another drag of her cigarette, flicking the ash out the window. She glanced at him only briefly, refocusing on the road after blinking. “...What’s got ya worried, Nero?” Nico put the cigarette out in her ashtray, pursing her lips together.

“I just have a feeling.” Nero knew he was being overly vague, yet genuinely, it was all he had. Sometimes pain thrummed in his arm like someone else’s heartbeat, or his scar burned. Nero could handle the pain, he was used to random bouts of agony- but the phantom had returned, sitting on his lap.

Their pale, tattooed hand finger-puppeting up his chest, starting from his navel where the scar originally began. Nero could feel their frigid ass right on his lap.

“...You have every right to be worried, Dearest. You noticed months ago, didn’t you? You can sense them.” Nero didn’t want to look at him, he didn’t want to acknowledge him and the way their proximity made his arm go cold.

“Tell me, what is it that I’ve ‘noticed’?” Nico didn’t even spare ‘them’ a glance. Nero had told her several months prior about his hallucinations, and she stopped questioning after a period of time, rather she encouraged his communication with the ‘phantoms’, given they had taught him how to save Kyrié’s life.

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout, Nero?” The raven-haired phantom that had dubbed himself ‘V’ only a few weeks ago shifted so he was more comfortable in Nero’s lap, devoid of his clothes and stretching languidly like a cat. Nero swore he heard cracking from more bones that were even in the human body.

“Asking me if I sense something, which all I can right now is his frozen, frosty fuckin’ ass on my lap.” Nico snorted as she lit another cigarette, which had Nero glancing at the van’s clock- since when had over twenty minutes passed…? Nico muttered something about the usual, no longer pressing Nero for answers, which seemed fine, given V wouldn’t speak when she was trying to acknowledge him.

“I never realized my… posterior was such a bother to you.” V shifted to get comfortable, his legs hanging out the window as he slid further down, half-lying on Nero’s lap.

“It’s fine, you’re just cold.” V hummed as he resumed to trace patterns on Nero’s shirt, leaving sharp, blinding pain with his touch. It felt like the equivalent of frostbite.

“I’ll throw you a bone, Nero.” V paused his travels right over Nero’s stomach, humming. “You know that they weren’t dead. And now they’ve come for evolutionary justice, against you.” Nero suppressed a shudder as his scar began to ache, like he had just torn himself open all over again, exposing the delicate organs within.

“There’s no way it lived, V. Plus, there’s a sea between us and them.” Nero spoke through gritted teeth just as Nico turned on the radio, to drown out their voices, offering him some semblance of privacy.

“They are in the city right now. They fed on his corpse and grew. They seek more power, and have come for you.” Nero hated that it could have been something entirely probable, he hated that merely his existence would threaten his sisters.

“Thanks, I hate it, I hate you, I hate all of this. Worst first mission ever and it hasn’t even started.” V huffed as he began to melt, becoming nothing more than viscous shadows that slipped between Nero’s legs before a beam of light hit him just right and he fully disappeared.

oOo

Nico stopped the van just outside the sewer grate leading to the undercity, cursing as the engine stalled.

“Well, if we planned on bein’ cowards, we can’t now.” The van shut off just as Nico pulled her hands away from the wheel, holding them up in surrender. “Van’s fucked for now, I can fix ‘er, but… I’d need some time.” 

Kyrié and Nero both sighed in tandem just as Nico popped the hood of the van, waving smoke away from her face.

“...Ironic that the smoker can’t take some smoke to the face.” Kyrié elbowed Nero in the rib, shooting him a glare just as Nico started coughing.

“You know if she can’t fix the van we’ll have to walk home, right?” Logic cut through Nero’s petulant grumbling, just as V appeared once again. Kyrié’s quiet lecture was drowned out from his ears as he focused on the phantom that had their hands clasped behind their back, leaning forward to inspect the car’s engine.

“...I still know nothing about vehicles.” V hummed as he continued to stare at the smoking engine, reaching for it with one hand, his ring catching the fading sunlight and glinting-

Frost appeared on the overheated engine, sputtering and stalling before it came back to life. V recoiled like he had been struck, gaze darting between his hand and the van.

Nico dropped her flashlight as she slowly turned her head, in what she assumed was V’s direction. Kyrié squinted as she vaguely motioned to the van, humming.

“...What was that?” Kyrié was trying to stay calm, but she knew damn well Nico didn’t have any secret powers and Nero’s abilities didn’t have anything to do with the cold-

The ice was spreading over the wind shield, and Nico looked half-torn between screaming out of fear, and out of excitement.

“Oh shit, oh shit! Nero, are you seein’ this?! Yer ghost friend! He’s doin’ a thing! I don’t know what, but it’s somethin’!” Nico bounced on her heels, clapping as she kept looking between the van and Nero, her hair whipping past and smacking her in the face. She was not bothered by this.

“...This is new. I shouldn’t be able to interact with the physical world.” V finally let his hand drop back to his side, leaning heavily against his cane.

Kyrié knew nothing about Nero’s ghost friend. She had no context, and no proof until only seconds prior. Nero was haunted, and that ghost just fixed their van’s overheating engine, so in reality Kyrié shouldn’t be upset, horrified perhaps, but it’s a benevolent spirit, so it couldn’t be all that bad-

“Alright! Let’s ignore the spooky nonsense and get to work! Nico, grab your new babies and lock up the van. Nero, pull your hood down and check Red Queen’s Exceed, we need to be in top condition for our first mission!” Kyrié clapped her hands together as she dished out orders, ignoring the way her hands trembled or how bile rose in her throat. Her anxiety reached levels they hadn’t been in years.

“...Who the hell put you in charge?” Nero poked her shoulder, and ran out of steam as Kyrié glared at him through the corner of her eye. “Okay, uh, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“Cowed to submission from a mere look from that woman?” V picked at nonexistent dirt from beneath his fingernails, oblivious to the middle finger Nero had given him.

“V, fuck off and go back to whatever sludge-pit you crawl out of. We’ll be fine,” Nero lied through gritted teeth, just as he revved Red Queen like Kyrié had asked. “Sword’s good.”

Nico came out of the van with two pistols and an ammo pouch attached to her belt, sagging with the weight. She locked up quickly, sliding the pistols into thigh holsters and giving the duo a dramatic pose. Nero and Kyrié shook their heads fondly, just as V began to melt, leaving residue on the van.

Nero believed he was the only one who could see it. He wasn’t.

oOo

They entered the sewers that smelled more like an adult club than the dredges of the city, both girls sticking close to Nero’s sides. Just as Lady predicted, Nero’s hair and facial features on display had the trio able to move through the crowded pathways unbothered. Patrons at different shops only gave them a passing glance, while others actively avoided even looking in their direction.

Nero kept quiet, looking from stall to stall for the specific Devil-Arms dealer, their contact they were to meet. They could have been walking for over an hour, deeper into the forgotten city that was built on rubbish and debris.

A flickering neon sign caught Kyrié’s attention, three letters having gone out. A man was staring at them from through the window, haggard and gray, seeming shocked once he took another look at Nero.

“You three! In, now! Come, come, Paul does not bite.” Nico leaned forward to look past Nero and Kyrié’s busts, squinting and readjusting her glasses.

“...Is that the guy?” Regardless if it was or not, this was the first person that had acknowledged them in over an hour- they might as well oblige. Nero turned on his heel and motioned for the girls to follow, which had Nico sputtering and scrambling to keep up. “We’re just goin’ into some… random old kook’s shop then?”

The exterior of the shop was just like any other building in the undercity, made of old wood and metal panels hastily held together by rusted screws. The door was old with chipped paint, the hinges creaking as the man unlocked and opened the door for them.

The interior was strikingly different, clean and professional complete with hardwood floors that had been recently polished. Mahogany display cases and bookshelves, filled to the brim with old tomes and scrolls. A candle chandelier lit the space from above, casting a golden glow on the occupants. In the corner of the room sat a man covered in bandages from head to toe, wearing a dark green suit with many holes and patches.

‘Paul’ took a seat at his desk, and motioned to the old leather couch for the three hunters to take a seat.

“You must be Nero, you must be Nico, and you must be Kyrié.” Paul pointed at each one, nodding eagerly as they made no move to correct them. “Good, good, Paul has the information you need. Would you darlings care for a cuppa?” Kyrié raised her hand politely, which had Paul waving at the man in the corner.

Nero hadn’t noticed him at first, he was inconspicuous, blending in with the tapestry behind him, depicting Sparda with an emerald background. The man was limping as he clung to the wall, entering the open doorway in the back right corner of the room. The four waited in silence, Nico bouncing her leg as she chewed on her fingernails for the mystery man to return.

The man returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with an ornate, antique teapot and several teacups, complete with saucers and gilded rims. They were decorated in beautiful floral patterns, and Kyrié had to contain her excitement once the cup was set on the coffee table in front of her. The tea had an earthy flavor, a floral aftertaste, it was delicious, hot, and there were even proper sugar cubes to put into the tea.

Kyrié sipped at her tea delicately as Nico dropped an entire handful of sugar cubes into hers, stirring vigorously until they dissolved. Nero kept staring at the man in green- something about him was familiar, and the phantoms were all absent. His mind was quiet, while the Yamato in his arm was singing, her energy calling out and causing Nero’s arm to glow brighter.

Paul threw his tea back like he was slamming a shot, entirely aggressive- and yet he set the teacup down gently, the bottom and the saucer barely making an audible clink.

“Dante sent you three, yes? Paul knows. There is something wrong here, in this city of ours, a demonic hybrid that is eating many demons and some humans. It is not safe down here, no longer. You must get rid of it. Make it safe. If you need weapons, Paul can give you weapons. Cursed, holy, blessed at shrines, Demon-Arms that will serve you well.” Paul stood, his chair scraping on the floor, loud, breaking through the silence that followed his ramblings.

He walked over to where the bandaged man had previously been sitting, pointing at an iron hatch in the floor. The hatch had engraved symbols that faintly glowed, reeking of demonic energy and suppression.

Paul turned a small wheel, the hatch popping open. The smell of blood instantly filled the shop, accompanied by sulfur. Nero could hear something sloshing, and a constant stream of liquid, flowing deeper into the sewers.

The trio stood to look inside the grate-

The walls were covered with flesh. The ‘water’ they heard was a river of blood, half-digested demon corpses floating past, something preventing them from disintegrating. A severed human head floated on by, pulling by the currents of never-ending blood.

Nero gagged. He had… they all had… seen such horrors before.

Nico looked away, a hand over her mouth as she tried to block out the smell, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to view it any longer.

Kyrié turned on her heel, wrapping her arms around herself as she hyperventilated, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. This was their first mission?!

Nero’s Devil Bringer pulsed painfully, sending fire straight up his arm- the Yamato reacted to his discomfort, as did the mysteriously bandaged man, who set a hand gently on Nero’s shoulder. Yamato went silent just as Nero turned his head to look over his shoulder, meeting eyes that flickered between red and blue.

A single tuft of white hair was visible past their bandages. The shadowy sludge that had once been V was drawn into the man’s body, like his own shadow had returned. His eyes were once again blue, mirroring Nero’s, just like Dante’s.

“I… will not… let you face… this alone. Dearest.”