Devil May Cry - Volume 2 - Chapter 4.1

Phase 4 
Part 1 

Chaos erupted around Chen almost from the moment he woke up.

Like any person in a position of real power, Chen frequently had more demands on his time than he could handle.

This was the nature of his work.

The mafia boss was something of a cover story for Chen, and although it took nearly as much energy as his true pursuit did, it was much less dangerous and consuming.

Occasionally his two worlds collided.

A lieutenant had alerted him to a problem with a shipment being made to a certain large company.

The crates contained a kind of homunculus-an artificial human body created by sorcery rather than science.

Chen had long used his experiences with demons and other monsters to develop new revenue streams.

But truthfully, Chen was already bored with that line of business.

Chen had amassed such a fortune in his lifetime that it would probably take several more lives just to spend it all.

And money brought power.

He was intimate with delegates from leading nations and kept more than his share of secrets with prominent corporations.

Both of these naturally meant he had great influence in the criminal underworlds of various countries.

He had, by any capitalist measure, reached the pinnacle of his career.

Nevertheless, he refused to retire.

He kept trying to climb the next mountain, driven by an inhuman viality rarely seen even in the young.

Chen possessed an insatiable curiosity.

He was only ever able to satisfy it temporarily, obtaining rare objects unknown to most.

This in turn spurred his interest in the occult and led to his dalliance in demon eugenics.

His passion and drive could have made him a great man, had he been an honest person or even a marginally humane businessman.

But instead he had the fortune to be born into a long line of criminals and came into the world from the bottom up.

Even by Chen's standards, the energy rushing through his body now was remarkable.

All sense of restraint dropped away as he considered the stony Mister Ducas.

There were some domains no human should touch nor enter.

Chen's tragedy was not recognizing this fact...

"I hear Mister Ducas has undergone a change." 
Chen waddled into the research lab with his usual grin.

The facility was embedded in his mansion, hidden from prying eyes that might otherwise discover its secrets.

The institution specialized in demon research.

Scientists floated from subject to subject, shrouded in white medical gear.

The researchers were as much prisoners as the demons themselves, although Chen afforded them every luxury.

The glass case containing what was left of Ducas had been moved to the lab overnight.

Now it stood at the center of a gaggle of scientists, many of whom waved machinery in front of it as if they were dancing or bidding on stock.

Chen made a show of coughing politely.

"Should we expect Mister Ducas to return, by any chance?" 
"That's impossible," responded one of the masked researchers.

"It would be a different story if Ducas were a demon.

But we've never seen a human survive petrification.

However, he's not exactly inert." 
Chen's eyes glimmered.

"What do you mean?" 
"His volume and weight are decreasing rapidly.

We have no real idea where the lost mass is going." 
"But you have guesses." 
"We have a few theories." The scientist crossed over to a computer and played with the keyboard for a moment.

The image of a three-headed statue appeared on the display.

"Ho ho! I don't know whether to say that I was expecting something like this." 
"We knew you were looking for it, sir.

But we didn't want to give you our thoughts until we had more data.

I believe Ducas is actually transforming into the Beastheads." 
"How much longer until this happens?" 
"If the transformation continues at the present rate, I estimate the Beastheads will be in your possession by tomorrow afternoon." 
Chen rubbed his hands in satisfaction.

He couldn't actually see the change take place, but he stared tirelessly all the same.

"I've done some very pitiful things to you, young Mister Ducas.

But you have shown me how to use the Beastheads and then delivered it unto me.

For that, I thank you." 
Ducas stood immobile, unable to respond.

His face was contorted in pain and surprise, his mouth open in horror.

By tomorrow that mouth would be the shape of a dog's muzzle.

"Goodbye, Mister Ducas.

For allowing us to properly utilize you; for carrying the Beastheads inside of you; for investigating its mystical application-I am proud to call you Family.

Ho ho!" 
The maniacal giggle as Chen left the facility served as poor Ducas' requiem.

Dante sputtered back to life.

"Where am I?" 
His question was met with silence.

Dante lay on a hard wooden floor.

A steady drip of water splashed on his face.

The smell of something acidic overwhelmed him.

Dante sat up and wiped his face.

He patted his body to check for wounds and to make sure his weapons were still in place.

The room was dark to make out much detail, but Dante knew he was no longer in Mundus' keep.

"Beryl? Did we get back?" 
There was no reply.

Dante hauled himself to his feet.

He felt remarkably good for having just taken on the King of the Underworld.

But his surroundings left something to be desired.

The smell got worse as time passed, although Dante reckoned that it might be his senses returning to normal.

"How do I get out of here?" 
Dante seemed to be in a storeroom or closet of some kind.

Cardboard boxes were stacked high on steel shelves.

He didn't see any way out, but he decided to follow the acidic smell.

Beryl fancied herself as a Devil Hunter.

She could take care of herself.

He hoped.

 
Beryl had woken up a little earlier than Dante.

The first thing she saw was a decaying corpse.

She reflexively jumped back and clutched her rifle.

But her surroundings remained still and quiet.

Beryl remembered Dante defeating the King of the Underworld.

And then everything faded away.

Just like the Beastheads.

She wondered if this meant she'd been whisked away from the parallel world.

Where is Dante? 

The startling corpse floated limply in a cloudy glass tub, like a specimen soaked in formaldehyde.

The room was littered with similar objects.

Banks of machinery suggested a laboratory of some kind.

Bery checked herself for injuries.

All clear.

How is that possible? She stowed her rifle into position on her back.

It had been useless in the face of the King of the Underworld, but she always felt better with it nearby.

She decided to avoid the creepy humanoid specimens and shuffled to the room's only door.

She pressed an ear against the wood but heard nothing.

She twisted the handle and slowly pulled the door ajar.

Beyond it was nothing but darkness.

Darkness meant nothing to Beryl now.

She had seen the inky blackness that formed the King of the Underworld.

That was darkness.

This was just the absence of light.

Completely different, she reckoned.

The new room was an even bigger lab space.

Specimens large and small dotted the room, which was filled with mountains of loose paperwork.

Beakers and flasks formed little glass cities.

Their function was a mystery to Beryl, but the paperwork she could understand.

Paperwork and test tubes meant she was back home.

Beryl stepped carefully to avoid making any noise.

The dimness opened into a darker space up ahead.

She couldn't see any other doors, so she made her way toward the blackness.

The faint lights of the machinery were of little use in the new chamber.

Beryl could feel thick electrical cables snaking across the floor.

Stolen patches of light glinted off a row of huge glass vats lined up against one of the walls.

The thought of more specimens didn't thrill her, but Beryl pressed on.

The nearest vat contained a human figure.

It appeared to be sleeping rather than dead.

The figure floated in a chemical soup.

Its pasty white limbs were impossibly long and slender, delicate, as if even a child could reach in and snap those arms in two.

The face looked human, but Beryl was more interested in the man's forehead.

Disgust washed over Beryl and she fought to keep the bile down.

The man's forehead was split wide open and a grotesque eye had taken root in the center.

It was not the eye of a human being.

Beryl felt the scar on her chest ache warmly.

It was all the confirmation she needed.

The eye was from the demon realm.

Beryl heard the patter of oncoming footsteps and darted behind one of the larger machines.

She pulled a small knife from her belt and waited silently.

Please just pass.

The footsteps drew nearer.

Beryl sensed a dangerous aura and tensed for a fight.

 
 
If she had to create a ruckus, it would make things more difficult.

She still didn't know where she was-or how to get out.

The footsteps were nearly upon her when they stopped.

Beryl launched out from behind the machinery and swung savagely.

But the knife slammed into something metal and clattered to the ground.

Beryl felt the cold mouth of a gun against her temple.

She rolled her eyes sideways to get a look at her attacker.

"Dante?" 
"That was some greeting.

At least you're safe." 
Beryl relaxed.

She recovered the knife and returned it to her belt, filling Dante in on everything she had seen since waking up.

Dante listened dispassionately, focused on the vats.

"What do you think those things are?" He gestured toward the glass tanks on the other side of the room.

"Disgusting," she said simply.

Dante strode to the nearest vat and peered over the side.

He could feel faint traces of magical energy radiating from the body.

The deformed limbs were probably the side effect of warping the joints and of repeated expansion and contraction, he reasoned.

As with Beryl, it was the eye that intrigued him the most.

Dante thought back to his tussle with Chen's odd Ghost Knights.

Each wore a metallic plate over its forehead and lost its ability to fight when the plate was pierced.

This must be what was hidden under those plates.

He'd seen these third eyes before, long before he assumed his current name.

His coworkers had transformed into monsters with something similar embedded into their bodies.

He nearly spat when she spoke next.

"I think this guy is one of the Ghost Knights.

Chen must be controlling them through third eyes.

Turning them into monsters." 
Hatred swelled up inside Dante.

This eye and the Beastheads were demonic objects and didn't belong in human hands.

Dante had seen what happened to humans who got hold of such power.

"It looks like we're to have to give Chen more than just a greeting," he quipped grimly.

A moment later, an unnatural tremor knocked Dante and Beryl off their feet.