Devil May Cry - Volume 1 - Chapter 4.3

Phase 4.3

Dante walked alone through the slumbering city, the burnt-down office building behind him. The size of the crowd watching the fire had swollen, but he took no notice. 

A number of observers took in his crimson coat and silver hair. Surely it was Tony? But Tony was gone. The new figure had a different demeanor, an edge that silenced the onlookers. 

Dante allowed himself to be drawn through the city to his destination. His feet traced out a path through the alleys and byways, taking him far from the crowds and traffic. But he knew he was not alone. The foul odor of rotting meat penetrated his nostrils. 

“You don't have to hold back. Come out!” 

Dante stilled, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He stood motionless for several moments and waited. 

Finally, the edges of the shadows began wavering uncertainly. Dark creatures encircled him silently – headless human forms. 

“Good. You look strong. I wouldn't enjoy this if it was too easy.” Echoes of Tony's brazen personality remained in Dante. 

The demons waited until the last of their number was in place. The completed circle used a deafening wail. “DAAANNNTEEE!” 

Dante gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I kept you waiting. But I'll answer you now. Dante is here.” 

He pulled the massive sword from its scabbard on his back. Something in the darkness made the weapon look even larger than it was. The skull design on its hilt seemed to gloat ominously. 

“This sword was caged, along with my real name.” Dante thought back to his father's weapon, calling out to him as a child. The pieces snapped into place. “But now he'll be released.” 

The sword bellowed and groaned, enlarging until it was half the size of Dante himself. The double-edged blade looked capable of cleaving a cow in two, but weight next to nothing. 

“Who wants to be the first to find out how many of my skills have been revived?” 

The demons murmured evilly. Dante was grossly outnumbered. Time stretched thin. 

“I guess I'll have to bring it to you!” Dante launched himself into the mass of demons, hacking with superhuman speed and precision. Black blood sprayed indiscriminately as he pressed his attack, he was overwhelmed by the infernal stench of the creatures' own world. 

Dante sliced his way through one edge of the circle. 

“Come on, get serious. This isn't a warm-up.” Dante lashed out to his right and disemboweled a handful of demons. His attacks were so fast and devastating that the beasts were unable to land a single blow. 

He cut through the horde, mowing down his opponents easily. “I haven't even broken a sweat!” 

The demons faltered at his overwhelming strength. The creatures that fed on human despair began to feel despair themselves. The inhuman beasts tried desperately to widen the distance between themselves and Dante, but his massive sword easily crossed the gap. 

“What's the matter?” Dante gave a playful wink that sent a few of the more skittish demons dashing to the back of the ranks. “Running away already?” 

He darted toward and struck down the retreating shadows. 

“Who's next?” He flashed a dark, lusty grin. 

The only response was a strange mewling from the back of the crowd. One by one, it spread to the other demons, who threw back their heads and yelped. 

They're crying, Dante realized. 

The shadows knew they had no chance before Dante his eerie sword. 

“That's a good sound. I'd listen a little longer, but this world isn't for you,” Dante scoffed. “I'll send you back where you belong.” 

And with that, he threw himself into the fray, slaughtering demons on all sides. It was no longer a fight – it was a massacre. 

The creatures turned on Dante, sinking their fangs and claws into the tail of his red coat. But he was too fast for them to make meaningful contact. 

Dante leapt into the air and hovered like a ghost. The action seemed to draw the demons into his wake. He whirled like a dervish, dicing the helpless demons into a black paste that splattered over the alley. 

Dante settled gently onto the asphalt. Every demon lay dead at his feet, slowly dissolving back into the shadows. He wiped the much off his word before returning it to its sheath. “That appetizer's out of the way. I wonder what the main dish will be.” 

Dante turned his back on the grisly scene and stalked off down the alley, continuing on his previous path. The familiar passages took on a strange new atmosphere. 

It's gotten stronger. The dark aura of the demon world permeated downtown now... the same sickening force that had threatened to overwhelm Dante at the sanatorium. 

Its malevolent tendrils had taken root in the buildings and streets, radiating outward from a central point. The oppressive sensation grew stronger as Dante neared its hub. He rounded a corner and stopped, suddenly aware of his destination. “Of course.” 

A familiar shop sign creaked on its hinges across from him. It was a sign he'd seen hundreds of times, marking out work and play. 

Dante stood directly opposite Bobby's Cellar. 
 
The air in the Cellar was freezing cold. 

The bar had never felt particularly spacious, but now it appeared cavernous to Dante. The tables were casually laid out as usual, with familiar faces drinking from mugs and glasses. Bobby himself stood behind the counter, drying plates with a damp cloth. Nothing had changed, yet everything was somehow different. 

Dante took up his usual position at the counter. “One extra-large strawberry sundae, please.” 

Bobby continued with his work. 

“Bobby? Can you hear me?” 

Nobody paid Dante any attention at all. 

“I see.” Dante slipped a pistol form its holster and aimed at the ceiling. He squeezed the trigger, blowing out a bare light bulb that had been hanging overhead. The explosion sent white plaster cascading across the wooden floorboards. 

Everyone in the Cellar turned their heads in unison. Dante recognized the faces. But just barely. Each visage was a twisted mockery, deformed and bloated with decomposition gases. Every single person in the room except Dante was dead. 

The corpses hissed a series of greetings in an eerie semblance of speech. 

“Tooonnnyyy.” 

“It hurts.” 

“The pain, Tony.” 

“I lost my arms.” 

“Where is my head?” 

“I can't see you, Tony.” 

Dante felt a cold hand clap his back. He spun around and found Bobby standing behind him. The bar's owner had a pale, hollow face. His magnificent stomach was sliced open to reveal glistening intestines. 

“I'm sorry to keep you waiting,” Bobby croaked. He placed a glass bowl on the table. 

“I can't eat this!” Dante swept the bowl aside. It crashed onto the floor, spraying red and white everywhere. But it wasn't the red and white of strawberries and ice cream. 

“I didn't order a 'strawbloody' sundae.” 

Bobby burst into laughter at the quip. The staccato chortle was quickly taken up by the rest of the patrons. It reminded Dante of the time he was heckled by Ecole. Everyone in the Cellar had laughed at him then, too. But this tie, the teasing was dry and lifeless. The scornful laughter at the heart; it would have drained the will out of an ordinary man.
 
“This is all you've got?” Dante took on his usual sarcastic ton. He blasted the room with his most withering stare, willing the animated corpses into silence. 

The bodied of his former peers remained quietly in their positions. They were little more than puppets, and Dante was only interested in their master. 

“You can come out now, bandage boy.” The bar remained unnervingly quiet. “I know you're the one in charge of this party.” 

A low voice spilled into the room. “I was hoping we could enjoy this a while longer. How vexing.” Gilver emerged from the crowd, stepping to the center of the Cellar. “You got here earlier than I expected. Did my men outside not welcome you?” 

Dante hopped off his stool and took up a battle stance. “They tried. But their skills weren't quite up to the task.” 

Gilver sighed. “I assume you're not pleased with your reception in here, either.” 

“That's not true. Everyone's become quite handsome, don't you think?” 

Only a few short meters separated Dante and Gilver. Everything had changed since the last time they had seen each other a few days earlier. Each man was intensely focused, wary. 

“Is there anything you want to ask me, Tony?” 

“Sorry, but I threw that name away.” 

“Is that so? Allow me to rephrase.” 

The tension between the two warriors was nearly physical. Each syllable jabbed like a blade. 

“Do you have any questions, Dante? You have treacherous blood in you.” 

“Don't be silly. I may look like a scoundrel, but I'm renowned for my loyalty.” 

“Please, no more of your pathetic objections.” Gilver sneered. 

The two men whipped out their swords in unison. If either stepped forward a single pace, he would be within the other's striking range. 

“Well, there is one thing,” Dante finally allowed. “What are you, man? You don't smell like those other things.” 

“You don't need to know. In any case, I'm going to crush you.”

Dante shrugged. “That's a fitting line for a villain.” 

“Your absurd labels are meaningless.” Gilver cackled behind his bandages. “The victor will be called the hero by future generations. Arguing about good and evil is pointless.” 

They didn't cover that in school.” 

Dante and Gilver exchanged glowers, each careful to remain just out of range. The corpses around them collapsed into dust, as if Gilver's psychic hold on them could no longer be maintained while he concentrated on Dante. 

“Does this not upset you? All your friends... disappearing one by one? 

“I never had any friends,” Dante said coldly, trying not to think about Grue. “I don't care for any.” 

“I can read your soul like an open book. You might push those worthless emotions away, but you can never fully escape them.” Gilver cocked his head. “The one you're experiencing right now is called despair. Limitless despair at having everything around you taken away. Your place in the world. Your friends. Your partner. Your substitute mother.” 

Dante smiled dryly. “Don't make me laugh. Who's despairing?” 

The Cellar grew cold. 

“Demons feel no despair,” Gilver finally pronounced. “You have our blood coursing through your veins. You're the mongrel half-breed offspring of a human and a demon. And you betrayed our side.” 

Dante's smile left his face. “That's right. So you know I can't feel something as simple as despair.” 

Time unfroze. 

Dante and Gilver hurled themselves at each other.