I am writing this out of spite for Wattpad so graciously taking down my other fanfiction that I spent around 3 years posting. Back with some fanfiction. Have fun reading this.
This is based off of all the events of the Devil May Cry franchise so the...
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It had been a difficult day. Vergil allowed the stretch of his tireless body & sheathed his sword away once more, his gaze aligned with the house on the hill. He was loathsome— angry at the world.
In nineteen years, what was worth the search but power? He needn't a job nor did he heed one, carrying only his eternal wealth on his sleeve with the name "Sparda" engraved on his face like a bad scar. Demons prowled to his every footing & lay attacks in mindless notions towards him at every chance they got, wandering toward a power they could never possess but all yearned for. The power of the Sons of Sparda. With a single breath out of his mouth & a large swipe of his hand, Vergil banished the demons back to their resting place in the world down under the lands of men. His feet dragged him restlessly onward.
In the morn, the sounds of bustling humans ran the streets of Redgrave City & from the heart blew ideas. Vergil's rein was never much though it should've been as the first born son of a demonic Dark Knight belonged in his bloodstream. A taste of revenge was needed as his brother seemed to surpass his every ideation, though, they never remained out of synchronization. Vergil knew that even if his mother truly did hide a favourite behind her loving eyes, she could never have had the heart to tell either of her darling sons for fear of the indiscretion of hate deemed upon each other from that day forward. Still, on the rise of their own sunset, Vergil banished himself away in the hellish life awaiting for him, far from his brother & far from the safety of their bond, among the watchful eyes of angels. A single tear cried for him.
~~~
A groan & a few mumbles escaped the young man's mouth before he put a hand to his head & forced himself up from the mattress's comforting surface, what once felt like a warm hug becoming a cold morning breeze. Silver strands of hair clouded his view & as he rubbed his eyes, the faint call of ambulance sirens being heard alarmingly outside. Opening his eyes, he looked down at himself, a disappointed sigh leaving his lips as his performance suffered vaguely from the fact it was a human laying beside him. Still, he slipped back into his clothes, placing his mouchoir into his collar & straightening out his jacket from the floor, his gloved hands pushing into the sleeves & a grumble leaving his lips. He looked down at the woman in the bed, disdain on his face & a crease in his brow, but reluctantly, he pulled the covers over her, a single hand on her hair & the slightest touch his his lips on her forehead.
Vergil grabbed his Yamato from the floor & swiped any dirt off it, looking over the sides of its engraved scabbard for any single speck of dust before setting off, leaving only the feeling of his mere presence with the woman in the bed.
With a heavy foot, the young man walked, his mind captivated by a power unreachable to his hands...
