Chapter Text
“Head down!”
Nero ducked just in time to dodge the shockwave of purple demonic energy that had been aiming straight for his face and quickly countered with a barrage of shots from Blue Rose. Only a few feet away, Dante had switched to his guns as well and was firing Ebony and Ivory in impossibly quick succession. They had been forced to fall back on ranged attacks when the demon they were fighting had slammed its hands into the ground and turned everything in a twenty-foot radius into black dust. Whatever that power was, Nero had a feeling it would have disintegrated them if they hadn’t evaded in time. This job was proving to be a bit more complicated than they had initially thought.
Devil May Cry had gotten the call early that morning, describing a monster in a dig site in the mountains. Apparently someone had dug up something they shouldn’t have. From what it had sounded like, they had expected a few weaker demons. Maybe a bunch of Riots that had somehow gotten buried or detained long ago and had now been awoken from their slumber. But they definitely hadn’t expected this.
The devil with its white and gray skin and the curved, dark horns was towering in a black field of its own destruction and the ground was still crackling with demonic energy. A wide grin on its ashen face revealed a row of sharp teeth. The glow of its magic painted its almost translucent wing membranes an eerie shade of purple as it summoned a wave of large stone shards from the ground.
“What’s this thing called again?” Nero yelled.
The projectiles were hurled at them in a merciless onslaught and he only barely managed to avoid them with a dodge to the side. He rolled and landed back on his feet just in time to hear them shatter against the rock face behind them.
“Sangue Angelo! Something about blood. They say it was made to study humans,” Dante replied. “No idea what it’s doing here, though. Honestly wasn’t sure they even existed.” He paused and fired a few more shots. “Now concentrate, will you?”
Nero rolled his eyes. “I am!”
Always belittling him. As if he hadn't kept Devil May Cry running during those months that Dante and Vergil had spent stuck in hell. With Lady and Trish’s help, sure, but he had essentially done his uncle’s job for him. And all he had gotten as thanks when the twin brothers had stumbled into the shop in the middle of the night, half-dead and covered in blood, had been a complaint that there wasn’t any pizza.
With an angry growl, he sent Punch Line off towards the demon. The Angelo let out a distorted howl as the Devil Breaker began to pummel its head. Nero grinned in satisfaction. He felt his skin burn with energy, excitement thrumming in his chest. His demon was raging, screaming for release. Well, he definitely wasn’t going to deny himself some fun. He snickered as he let his power break free and relished in the feeling of it racing through his veins, pulsing in his muscles as his body transformed. It had been a few months since Red Grave and he still hadn’t quite gotten used to how good it felt to trigger. So much power. It was exhilarating.
“Alright you ugly son of a bitch,” Nero snarled. “Let’s do this.”
He charged forward, jumped and reached out with his Devil Bringer. His translucent blue claws latched onto the Angelo’s shoulder and he pulled himself through the air with a cry of delight.
“You pesky little-”
Nero cut the demon off by slashing through its torso with his demonic arms. Blood splattered from the devil’s chest as he struck again and again. The powerful blows and the movement of his wings kept him in the air, bouncing up with each new attack. The Angelo, blinded and stunned by his vicious onslaught, threw its arms up in an attempt to swat him away like a fly, but it missed by a country mile. Nero let out a rough chuckle. That thing didn’t stand a chance against him. But much to his regret, he felt his energy quickly draining and despite how much he wanted to keep battering the demon up close, he wasn’t keen on finding out what would happen if he came in contact with the strange decay below. He landed one last hit, then he rammed his feet into the Angelo’s chest and launched himself backwards into the air. A quick focus of demonic energy underneath him and a jump later he came to a skidding halt next to Dante as his Devil Trigger dissipated. Just when he landed, Punch Line shattered with one last blow against the demon’s head. Nero quickly equipped his last remaining Devil Breaker. A Gerbera. Good enough. He wished he would have brought more, but he really hadn't expected such a tough fight.
“How was that for concentration?” he grinned.
Without having to look, he knew that Dante was smiling. “Trying to show me up, kid?”
“Don’t have to try, old man.”
“Hah. Sure, you tell yourself that.”
The demon staggered for a moment longer, then it seemingly pulled itself together again. Its red eyes were burning with fury. That guy was pissed, alright.
“Had enough yet?” Nero yelled, just to rub it in.
Instead of replying, the devil raised about a dozen purple glowing spears from the ground. A flick of its white wrist sent them his way at lightning speed.
“This again?” Nero had already jumped to the side, when the missiles suddenly changed their direction. He realized too late what was happening. His heart sank. “Shit,” he screamed, “Dante!”
Like himself, his uncle seemed to have assumed that the attack was going entirely for Nero and was focusing his attention on charging up his sword for a Drive attack instead. His head whipped around, but he had no chance to react in time. The spears drove into his chest, hurling him through the air until his back slammed into the wall. Before he could drop to the ground, crimson stone grew from the rock face in thick lines, curling around his limbs and torso and holding him in place. Dante coughed up blood and struggled against the restraints. They didn’t budge one bit. He let out an annoyed groan.
“Seriously? What, too scared to fight us both at the same time?” he called.
The Sangue Angelo cackled. “Don’t make a fool of yourself. I am simply curious.” It turned to Nero, its low, distorted voice dripping with scorn. “You seem to care for each other. So what will you do, little human? Will you protect your friend? Or will you attack?”
Nero snatched Red Queen from his back, rammed her blade into the ground and revved her engine a few times. He felt the heat of her fire against his hand. “How about both, asshole?”
The demon replied by summoning a swarm of glowing daggers in the air front of Dante. The last few bullets from Blue Rose made quick work of them, but only a split second later, a wave of spears was barreling towards the incapacitated devil hunter. Nero rushed in his direction and slashed up with Red Queen as he moved, shattering the demonic missiles in a flurry of fire. He darted a quick glance at Dante, who was still trying to free himself from the strange stone with a thoroughly pissed look on his face. His struggle seemed useless and with his arms firmly tied to the wall, he had no way of reaching his weapons. This was starting to get old quickly.
“Who’s dead weight now?” Nero huffed.
His uncle laughed. “You’re still hung up about that?”
Nero flipped him off before charging towards the Angelo. But he didn’t get a chance to attack. Instead, he stopped in his tracks and let his blade whir through the air to parry another seemingly endless hail of missiles. He moved as quickly and precisely as he could, but he felt his muscles start to tire. A few of the glowing projectiles broke through his defense and a pained hiss escaped his lips when they slashed open his arms and shoulders. His grip on Red Queen loosened and she was flung through the air when her hilt slipped through his fingers. A loud clanking sound echoed through the dig site as she landed somewhere far out of his reach.
“Shit,” he cursed.
The fight was dragging on way longer than they had anticipated. He was starting to get sluggish. This wasn’t exactly going great. He didn’t even have time to retrieve his sword, because the attack was immediately followed by a roaring beam of purple light. Nero threw up his arm and used Gerbera’s shock wave to parry the crackling ray of energy. He clenched his jaw, tensing every muscle in his body to hold his ground.
“Nero, get out of the way!” Dante yelled behind him. “Just fight!”
“Like hell!” Nero could feel sweat trickling down his brow and burning in his eyes. “I’m not letting him kill you! So shut up and focus on getting the fuck out of that!”
The demonic magic slowly pushed him backwards. Gerbera protested with a loud metallic creaking. Nero let out a desperate scream as he put everything into staying where he was. It was futile. The Devil Breakers weren’t made to withstand this much force. Shards of metal exploded everywhere as the arm shattered. The beam of energy crashed into Nero’s chest and hurled him backwards. He was tossed through the air like a rag doll before plummeting to the ground with an impact so heavy that he needed a few seconds to catch his breath again. His chest ached and he was pretty sure that something had cracked. With a strained groan, he got up again. This sucked. A glance in Dante’s direction confirmed that the devil hunter still hadn’t been able to free himself. What kind of shitty magic were those weird stone tentacles infused with?
“How unfortunate,” the Angelo smiled as it raised a single, large stone shard from the ground, its color dark red like blood. “It seems you are too weak. And too slow.”
The projectile whirred through the air. Nero didn’t even have time to think about what he was doing. His body moved on instinct, carrying out the one mission he had set his mind to. Protect Dante, no matter what. He wasn’t going to lose him. Not again. But with Red Queen out of his reach, no Devil Breakers or ammunition left and not enough energy to activate his Devil Trigger, he didn’t exactly have a lot of options. So he jumped and propelled himself forward with a flap of his demonic wings, launching himself into the air in front of Dante, hellbent on making sure that nothing got past him. Nero barely felt the stone shard piercing through his abdomen, only the force with which it shot him down. The air was knocked out of his lungs when he slammed into the ground. He tumbled once, twice, until he finally came to a stop, coughing up the red dust that had whirled up around him.
“Fuck,” he wheezed.
Somewhere in front of him, the Sangue Angelo laughed, cold and rumbling. Nero blinked and shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears. Then the pain set in, searing like fire, and he began to register the heat of his own blood on his skin. A pained hiss escaped through his clenched teeth when he began to push himself up from the ground. Admittedly, being skewered by a piece of rock hurt like a bitch. But this was far from his first time getting stabbed. His demon healing would take care of it in no time. He couldn’t afford to rest, not while Dante’s life was still in danger.
Just when Nero had managed to struggle to his feet, a shadow suddenly darkened his view, looming over him like impending doom. He didn’t even have time to react properly. His sloppy attempt at a dodge to the side was quickly interrupted by a large, clawed hand that grabbed him by the neck and violently stopped him in his tracks.
“Pathetic,” the Angelo rumbled.
Nero squirmed under the grip that painfully tightened around his throat and desperately grasped at the gnarled white arm that was slowly lifting him into the air. His efforts were futile. His body dangled uselessly as he struggled for air.
“Let… go, jackass,” he managed to squeeze out.
The Angelo laughed. “You amuse me, human.”
Then it reached up and curled its bony fingers around the stone lodged in his torso. Nero didn’t even have enough air left to scream when it was driven further into his flesh. His vision blurred.
“To think you would go this far, just to protect your puny friend,” the demon smiled. “Truly curious. Well, if you are so determined to die, child, then I shall grant your wish.”
Distantly, Nero could hear Dante yell a string of impressively creative insults at the devil. It didn’t even spare him a glance. A low, barely audible crackling sound reached Nero’s ears and it took him a second to realize that it came from the Angelo’s hand. Unable to look down and still desperately struggling for breath, he could only let out a pathetic whimper, when somehow, his agony suddenly increased tenfold. A horrible burning began to spread from his injury, driving tears to his eyes as it ate through his flesh.
“What the hell,” he croaked.
Darkness closed in from the corners of his view. He felt his chest heave uselessly, trying to breathe air that wasn’t there. What a shitty way to go. How had this gone so wrong?
And then something split the air in front of him and suddenly Nero was falling. Falling, a heavy impact, then pain. A hell lot of pain. For a moment, everything turned black. Deafening silence enveloped him like a blanket. One second, two, three. Sound exploded all around as the world finally returned to him. He was on the ground, curled up in the red dust and gasping for breath. Someone was continuing the fight. Someone had saved him. Who the hell had saved him? With a pained groan, Nero tried to move so that he could get a better look at whoever was currently fighting the Sangue Angelo. He could barely get his eyes to focus. A blurry, dark silhouette, moving with inhuman speed and precision in a flurry of blue energy, dancing around the demon with frightening ease. Him. That had to be him.
“Fucking liar,” Nero breathed, his tone landing somewhere between anger and confusion.
Vergil only rarely accompanied them on missions. Either he disappeared for weeks without a word or he had some dubious excuse as to why he just had to take on a different job while Nero and Dante, sometimes along with Lady or Trish, took care of theirs. He suspected his father was still avoiding him. It was somewhat surprising that Vergil helped with missions at all, but even so, the whole situation pissed Nero off majorly. If that asshole had a problem with him, he could just say so.
This time had been no different. Dante had decided on the most urgent job and Vergil had suddenly picked a different one. And an insanely boring one, at that. Just a small nest of Empusas. Definitely nothing he would choose out of a motivation for the fight or something. But still, he had insisted on his obvious strategy to avoid Nero. Then why the hell was he here now?
“You’re so… full of shit,” Nero hissed through clenched teeth.
Whatever was going on in the old man’s head, he definitely wasn’t going to let Vergil have all the fun. And he certainly didn’t need him to save his ass and do his job for him. He could still fight. With new determination burning in his veins, he gathered his strength and forced himself up onto his knees. His hands trembled when he clutched the stone shard that was still buried in his abdomen. Nero pressed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw and yanked. Sharp pain racked his body and he couldn’t bite back a scream as he doubled over. With his forehead pressed into the ground, groaning from the agony, he let the blood-coated shard drop into the red dust. The once crimson stone had turned black from the Sangue Angelo’s touch. Whatever that meant, it probably wasn’t good.
Nero gave himself a few seconds to catch his breath, then he managed to straighten up again and risked a glance down at his injury. He grimaced at the sight. There was blood everywhere, soaking his shirt and dripping onto the ground. He pulled some of the sticky, torn fabric aside to get a better look. The skin around the deep gash had turned a strange black color. It almost looked like it was crumbling. There were thin dark lines spreading from the wound that Nero assumed were his veins. That certainly wasn’t great. It was even less great that his healing wasn’t kicking in at all, but he decided to set that aside as a problem for later. Maybe it just needed a second. For now, he had to get up.
A glint caught his eye, only a few feet away. Red Queen. If he could just get there. Nero started to push himself up onto his feet and instantly regretted it. Agony shot through his torso like lightning, causing his knees to buckle and sending him face first back into the dust. His body violently convulsed and he whimpered, writhing in pain as he clutched his stomach. His hands were slick with warm blood. And no matter how much he wanted to just ignore the whole ordeal, he was starting to freak out a little. He couldn’t remember ever having been in this much pain from a simple stab wound, no matter how big. Or the last time an injury had taken this long to even start healing. This wasn’t right.
“C’mon, kiddo, pull yourself together. If you needed a vacation you could’ve just said so.”
Dante. Vergil had to have cut him free. If anything had enough power to slash through that strange magic demon stone, it was the Yamato. Nero forced himself to roll onto his back, despite the agony it caused. And sure enough, there was his uncle, walking towards him with the swagger of a man who hadn’t just gotten impaled and tied to a wall by demonic rock tentacles. Unlike Nero, though, he seemed to have no trouble just walking his injuries off.
“You’ve had way worse,” Dante laughed, clearly oblivious to the agony his nephew was in. “Get up.”
Nero wanted to, he really did. He didn’t particularly enjoy squirming on the ground like some helpless idiot. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t even push himself up a few inches before all strength left him and he slumped back down.
“Something’s… wrong,” he squeezed out. He hated how pathetic he sounded.
The smile on Dante’s face faded a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He sped up, closing the distance between them with long strides before he dropped to his knees next to Nero. “Hey, say something.”
Instead of replying, Nero removed his trembling, blood-coated hands from where he had kept them pressed against his wound. Dante’s expression switched from confusion to concern, then right back to confusion. He blinked.
“Whoa. Did he burn you or something? I didn’t know shish kebobing someone comes with free grilling now.”
Nero groaned. “Shut the… fuck up.”
A new wave of sharp pain sent tremors through his body. He clenched his jaw to keep himself from screaming out and tightly wrapped his arms around himself, fingers digging into his sides. Why did it keep getting worse?
“Shit,” he wheezed.
The last traces of a smile disappeared from Dante’s face. At least he seemed to be taking him seriously now.
“Alright, take it easy,” his uncle said, his voice surprisingly soft as he took hold of his wrists and gently pulled his arms away from his torso. Nero resisted the urge to fight back. As much as he didn’t like to admit it and as much as he felt the need to shield himself from any more damage, he needed help. “Let me see, kid.”
Despite his blurry vision, Nero gave him his best death stare. “Stop… calling me that,” he slurred. He wanted to add an “old man” for good measure, but between the pain and his still persistent trouble breathing, it was becoming frustratingly difficult to speak at all.
Dante ignored his words either way. Worry began to darken his features when he examined the injury. “That black stuff’s spreading,” he mumbled. “That can’t be good.”
Nero tried to make a snarky remark, but all that left his mouth instead was a strained groan. Through his pained haze he searched Dante’s face for a shimmer of hope. One of those cocky smiles of his when he had an oh so brilliant idea. But there was nothing.
“I, uh… I have no idea what to do about this,” his uncle admitted. “I’ve never seen something like this.”
“Great,” he squeezed out.
Dante hesitated for a moment, then he took off his beloved red coat, balled it up and firmly pressed it against Nero’s stomach. The pain flared up anew and he felt all of his muscles tense up as he forced himself not to jerk away. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. For a moment he thought he was going to either throw up or simply faint. The pressure hurt like hell, but with his healing still completely useless, it was necessary unless he wanted to end up bleeding out faster than the sliced belly of a well-fed Empusa.
“You better wash this when we’re out of here,” Dante sighed with a nod towards his jacket. His scolding tone was ruined by his very obviously underlying worry.
Nero didn’t dare to say anything in fear of just making some embarrassing pained sound instead, so he settled for halfheartedly flipping him off. His silence only caused his uncle to look even more concerned.
“That bad, huh?” Dante kept pressing his coat into Nero’s abdomen with both hands, seemingly growing more and more agitated with every passing second. “Alright,” he finally said, “This won’t do. I’ll leave for a second, alright? Don’t kick the bucket yet. I’ll go ask Verg-”
“Ask me what?”
“Son of a bitch!”
Nero wasn’t sure when and how his father had appeared behind Dante. His mind was so focused on his agony that he wasn’t really catching most of what was going on around him. But watching his uncle flinch at the sudden voice was priceless. If he hadn’t been in so much pain and currently preoccupied with both forcing himself to stay relatively still and biting back the screams that were begging for release, he would have had a field day making fun of Dante for it.
His uncle turned around with a theatrically annoyed look. “If you have to creepily materialize like that, can’t you at least do it in front of me?”
Vergil raised an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed. “Do you want it or not?”
Only then did Nero’s mind catch up with what exactly he was seeing and he choked on his breath. His father had his arm outstretched towards Dante. And resting in his hand was nothing less than the Yamato itself. Sure, he wore an expression as if he had just taken a bite out of a genetically enhanced super-lemon, but even so, he was offering the weapon that meant more to him than anything else Nero could come up with to his twin brother of all people.
“What?” Even Dante sounded completely dumbfounded. “Did you get hit in the head or something?”
Vergil rolled his eyes. “Just take it,” he sighed. “My Doppelganger won’t be able to keep the Angelo occupied for much longer.” He darted a quick glance at his son and if the pain hadn’t caused Nero to lose his mind completely, he thought he could see genuine worry shine through the cracks in his cold facade for just a second. “Get Nero out of here. I will finish this.”
Dante blinked. Vergil didn’t move. “Wow, you’re actually serious,” Dante finally said. He slowly got up onto his feet, though not until he had made sure that Nero took over with applying pressure to his wound himself. As much as he had the strength to, at least. Which wasn’t a lot.
“Just see to it that he survives,” Vergil demanded. “And return the Yamato to me once this is over.”
Dante sighed. “Alright. Just don’t yell at me later when you change your mind about me using your precious sword.”
Vergil frowned and shoved the Yamato into his brother’s hands. “Shut up and leave, Dante. You will not let my son die.”
Now Nero was almost certain that the pain was making him hallucinate or something. That, or Vergil had not only broken his usual calm and collected demeanor for a second there, but he had also called him his son with something akin to genuine care in his voice. Something so completely different from the cold tone he usually used, making the word seem more like an insult than anything. Vergil had almost sounded as if he saw him as more than just a mistake. Not as something to avoid and try to forget about, but as someone worth saving. And that was just too ridiculous to have actually happened. Nero decided to believe his hallucination theory instead. He didn’t get to dwell on it any longer either way, because Dante squatted back down and snaked an arm around his shoulders.
“Well, let’s go then,” his uncle said as he began to pull him up. “Don’t wanna make your father mad, now do we?”
If Vergil reacted in any way, Nero missed it, because the movement aggravated his injury much more than he had anticipated. Blinding pain exploded in his chest, his muscles cramped and this time, he didn’t even try to hold back the anguished scream that tore from his throat. In his weakened state it quickly died down to a miserable whimpering, anyway. Dante flinched, but kept holding Nero as he struggled to breathe, desperately clutching the blood-soaked jacket to his wound as if it was going to do anything. Everything was blurry. He could barely hear through the roaring in his ears. He was pretty sure that someone said something, but he couldn’t understand jack shit.
Then there was movement and a low, pained groan escaped his lips when he was pulled up further, all the way onto his feet this time. Vertigo hit him like a tidal wave and despite himself, he clung to whoever was next to him. Dante, he presumed through his haze. Something that vaguely sounded like “come on, you idiot” reached his ears. That was Dante, alright. He began to move and somehow, Nero managed to stumble along. He tried hard to concentrate on anything but the searing pain and eventually he managed to get his eyes to focus at least a little. He forced himself to sluggishly look around. Vergil had already returned to the fight.
“Wait,” he rasped between strained breaths. “He can’t… do this… alone.”
“Yeah, he can,” Dante said firmly. “And you need to get out of here. Which I’m pretty sure you can’t do alone.” He paused and readjusted his arm around Nero’s torso. “Trust him. He’ll be fine.”
Nero wanted to protest, but he couldn’t even manage to string together a coherent sentence in his head, let alone something that would convince Dante’s stubborn ass. And as much as he hated to admit it, his uncle was right. His condition was rapidly going downhill. The burning pain was beginning to extend through his chest and down his back and his demon healing was still doing fuck all. If he wanted to live, he needed something better than just a leather jacket to slow the bleeding. Vergil was incredibly powerful, even without the Yamato. And both Nero and Dante had already landed quite a few good hits on the Angelo. Finishing the demon off wouldn’t be a lot of trouble. Hopefully.
The high-pitched song of the Yamato slashing through the air, accompanied by a low hum, drew Nero’s attention back to Dante. A strange sound like a gust of wind echoed from the shimmering cuts as they tore open reality itself. Darkness stretched behind them, purple shapes swirling in inky black.
“Ready?” Dante asked.
Nero managed a nod and they stepped into the dark.