Chapter theme: One Man's Strength
Terminology:
SDT: SUBTERRANEAN DEMON TRIBE, often used to describe sentient and non-aggressive demons.
USF: UNITED SUBTERRANEAN FRONT, the recognized sovereign citizens of the Ebott. Valley demon association.
NNH: New New Home, the hometown of all SDT's, the city known as "a paradise." To those who live there.
Central: Central Government, central Island, main human settlement where the Grand Senate is instated.
WG: World Government, The coalition of governments and island states, headed the Grand Senate.
WM: World Military, the standing widespread military for the entire world bar a few states and countries.
OTS: Order Of The Sword, a religious faction mainly situated in the city of fortuna, radical Sparda worshippers.
Sin Trigger.
Bandaged and breathing heavily, Crono released blow after blow against the cushioned target gloves, the limp target pads doing nothing to settle his frustration. It didn't matter how much he ached, the pain he felt from being too weak... It was far too great.
Yellow eyes blaze with indignation, "Dammit c'mon little SDT, throw some blows in!" His ragged voice was out of breath as is, a blistering headache causing him to close his left eye. "Don't you want to hit me?"
Blooke shook his head tepidly, "N-no... Not really..." He'd rather not be doing this to begin with, Crono was scary like this... Just like before. At least not towards him this time.
The sharp eyed man goaded him on by pumping out his chest, "Well tough shit, just let out some aggression on me alright? I won't get mad, I fucking deserve it." The sorrow he felt was palpable in every word, a failure of a father.
Blooke stepped back out of range before any more blows could be levied, "No... I'm not going to... Sorry but I'm not-" Crono growled and lowered into a more primal posture, his teeth bared.
He covered his face and shook violently, "Dammit, why can't you just make it easy to want to hit you? Come on!" He exclaimed, tearing his hands through the air.
Glancing between his fists in a crazed fury, "I want to pelt you so badly, to release my frustration, but you just can't stand up for yourself!" He shakes his head, "Dammit, I can't even be mad at you! I'm pissed at... I'm just so fucking mad." Crono took a breather and sat on the bench, Brandon was staring at him almost to say 'Don't fuck up.'
Crono knew he couldn't raise a hand against Blooke, not when Vergil was... Was such an inspiration, a man who Crono always wanted to be... Who protected his own without even blinking, who could do anything and be anything... A near God amongst men, it was hard to feel anything but weak when compared to him...
And he... He hated feeling weak.
But he hated this gnawing feeling even more, "I'm sorry alright? I'm sorry for beating on ya, it's just... It's just so easy!" Crono vented to nobody in particular, not expecting a response. "It just pisses me off, you sit there and take it... You don't fight back, you don't want to fight back!"
It was inconceivable, all Crono had ever done was fight back... Against this shitty system, against everything he didn't want. And for what? What good had it done for him or his family? For anyone else? He wasn't good enough, he wasn't inhumanely strong or fast, he wasn't special.
'But... Maybe I'm not getting anywhere like this.'
Tearing off his boxing gloves, Crono clasped his hands behind his head. "I don't wanna hurt ya, it just..." He sighed and ceased his shallow and rapid breathing, calming himself with breathing techniques.
... The gaunt man averted eye contact, "I... When I was little, my momma died y'know? Killed by some damned demons, my daddy did his best to fight them off but... The order came and slaughtered them all in the end." The two SDT's watched with bated breaths, Brandon deciding to turn away back to his phone.
But... Blooke listened.
Crono stiffened as he realized that the SDT was actually listening to him, looking at him without scorn, "I-I-I was young y'know, like I just knew I was so mad back then too, always mad and violent..." He laughed, shaking his head.
A faint recollection in his eyes, "My daddy didn't give shit about me, but I went on and did something with my life. I met Bianca and got her out of her little shit hole of a living... Then we had Credo, and I promised I'd never fail him like my daddy failed me." His hands blistered and bleed with how tightly he was holding the bench, his nails deeply clawing into flesh.
Crono released a shaky almost impossible breath, "Huhf, fuck man..." He shook his head and leaned back to release the pressure in his chest that just wouldn't go away. "I sure ain't living up to that though, as much as I tried..."
Crono deflated against the chair, "But... I can't complain to you, not after what I did... Shit man, you know sometimes I still get pissed off seeing ya? It's like I can't control it... I hate it, hate that nasty feeling so much but can you fucking blame me?" At that point he caught the eyes of his former victim, the robotic devil was crying now.
Crono froze, why was he like this? Why? He rubbed the back of his neck, "Aw shit man. I didn't mean to make you cry, I... I better go lay down before my mouth keeps blabbering." He was a simple man, didn't think about much but still... He had a heart.
Even Blooke could see that, now.
So he grabbed the man's hands with his own robotic fingers, "It's okay Crono... You should... Um, let it all go okay?" Blinking rapidly, Crono laughed a small laugh.
He pulled himself away, but Blooke wasn't finished. "I don't know if I can forgive you yet, but I don't hate you... I can't hate... You just want to protect your family... Right? Don't worry too much about me... Let your emotions out." It wasn't right to keep them bottled up, Blooke knew this very well.
Crono was silent for a moment before chuckling, "You remind me of Reno when you said that, he's always tryna be the brains and stuff... But no, I can't. I gotta be strong, I gotta get back on my feet." Can't let his anger flood through, can't... Let the cold in.
'I don't want to slip... Not again, never again.'
Blooke understood... He really did see what he was saying, to be powerless... Was not a good feeling at all, to be so caught up in if you're not good enough; it was depressing, that life of living in the shadow of another... Of living as a failure, unable to grab on to you dreams.
Scarily, he knew just as much, "I know how you feel... Crono... I'm pathetic myself... Because... I want to fight sometimes too... But I can't, I never... I never have the guts to, i never can make myself angry enough... I'm a very weak person." Crono stiffened at the information, his head lowering as the guilt seeped through his neck and burned red.
So he decided to turn it around, "Better than me I'll say, I fight even when I don't want to... I'm a primitive sort, always been like that."
Blooke blinked softly, "But you changed... You aren't a bad man..."
A sigh, Crono turned away, "But I'm a weak man, that ain't gonna change til I'm dead."
With that, Crono left back towards the bar, leaving the two SDT's on their own. Brandon whistles before following him, leaving Blooke to contemplate by his lonesome.
The sign outside says closed, the light of the bar muted and grey compared to the usual... Bianca is found kneeling at the center of the bar room, a large circle of candles around her...
Crono stops just before entering the room, peeking behind the wall and seeing her there... Praying. Praying for the savior, they weren't taught to do so in their studies... But then again, the order wasn't really a good association, were they? His entire life he'd been led to believe the opposite, educated through them, worked through them, and yet...
He feels sick.
But nothing is comparable to the tragedy that is her voice "Please, oh great warrior, oh great knight... Please, please bring my son back to me... My baby." Her voice cracks, Bianca... His love.
He clutches a hand over his chest.
"He's... He's all I got left, I can't... I can't lose him... Please."
He falls to the ground, curling in on himself.
"Please, please Sparda, let my boy be safe."
Crono... For the first time in so many years since that day so long ago.
He cries with her, If only a little.
Soles crashing against the concrete of the building's rooftop, Vergil sprints over the skyline of the Renaissance district, moving at such blurring speeds that the wind around his ears whirls like a cyclone, his clothing flourishing in the wind as he goes through the air.
Unfortunately for his passenger, who is much less acquainted with high speed running.
"What the heeeeeeellllll!"
"Put me down man I'm gonna-"
Vergil lands just as the man wakes up from his half-devil induced coma, carrying the knight over his shoulder and barreling through the entrance to the bar with a sneer on his face. He feels blows peppering him to no avail, he merely squeezes tighter until he hears the slightest creaking of bone.
The three occupants of the bar snap to attention, "Vergil/Big man/Brother Vergil?" Crono, Reno, and Bianca all blink a few times at him.
Vergil tosses the man onto the ground, stepping over him and leveraging a calm rage over the occupants. The captive Knight groans in pain and clutches his ribcage on the floor.
Blue then meets yellow, "He's all yours, Wingbuster." Vergil begins towards the back exit of the bar, on his face a freezing glare.
Crono frowns before grabbing Vergil's arm suddenly, "Hey... What about Credo?" Stopping in his tracks, Vergil lowers his shoulders and stands tall.
Looking back at the elder man, Vergil holds icey hell in his eyes. "They tricked us, they brought Credo to a more secure location... I don't have a trace, yet... That's why he's here." Gesturing towards the groaning order member, Vergil shrugged off the shorter man and continued forth towards the back of the bar.
"Vergil."
Bianca stopped him with her voice alone, so angelic and scared.
He could hear the tremble, "Please... Please promise me you'll find my boy, please... It feels like all I've been saying is please lately, but gosh darn it..." Her eyelids slammed shut, tears falling down.
Vergil didn't respond for a second, "You have my word, Bianca, I shall save your son... I'll never turn my back on a child reaching out for help." He clenches his fist tight, the very plane of hell beheld within his eyes.
It could only remind him of the time he felt so powerless as a child himself, for all this strength beneath this flesh, he was no God, no omniscient being; the world didn't bend and warp around his will, just like any other creature he had limits.
"But with all my power, with all my
strength, I shall not let this stand."
"Andrei is with the order? Oh shit, that isn't good..." Vergil snorted with a look, 'Obviously.'
Propping an arm up over the table in the back of the bar, the light of the moon glazed over their bodies. "He's a supplier of theirs... Where do you think they got all their resources and tech? Certainly not out of thin air." Vergil could only imagine how they looked before the industrialization period, Andrei took the helm during that period.
Brandon frowned and scratched behind his ears, "Well yeah but like... Even outside of Fortuna, he's a huge name." One of the largest suppliers in the world, a business tycoon with a hand in almost every market possible.
Vergil nodded, "I'm well aware, everywhere you go someone's bound to mention him... I had my suspicions, but now? His status is irrelevant, he's made the wrong enemy." Clasping his hands together, the half-devil sighs and looks up to the sky.
'He seems convinced of his methods... A fool, no doubt, to think that the best outcome can be acquired through the worship of money and not character...' Vergil saw the merit to it, don't get it twisted... But one couldn't base their sense of right and wrong off of... Numbers.
'No, you must be principled, less you fund entities that kidnap children and turn blind eyes to abuse.'
Vergil stared off into the night, after all this time... He's been away so long, fighting for people he's just met, fighting against corruption and the call to sin... Yet, no matter where he went; there will always be people trying to rule the world, to make others do what they cannot do for themselves.
The trend was all encompassing.
It made him sick.
"And the people? They don't bother, sucking the teet of the order like a lifeline, it's sick." He scoffs.
'They are diseased... But they all just need something true to believe, that is what they lack.'
The winds kicked up around him suddenly, it was time to make a change.
Vergil stood up and glanced to his friend, "Blooke, inform me when Mettaton gets back to you... I will return tomorrow." The superstar was focused on the frontline fight in this culture war, but despite all his efforts... Only RISE could clip the roots of poison in this city.
Vergil knew this.
The wind began to funnel around him, flourishing through his skin and sending leaves from the ground into the air swirling around him as lightning began to crackle and arc around his body as if he's a conduit for the very storm. The sky darkens as demonic burning blue runes vibrate into existence, and then finally...
A devil opens his eyes.
Lightning strikes his body, metallic scales arcing lightning between themselves, flaming plumes of blazing blue jet from his arms, his demonic visage forming after much time has been passed; He stands a over a head taller than before, his body growing much more muscular almost as if the air is rippling with energy before a thunderstorm.
His wings unfurl around him, two sets sprawling into action with light flowing underneath the membranes in fluctuating shine. The majestic image of a Sin Devil trigger, Vergil crouches low to the ground.
Blooke is stunned to silence, the winds grazing over his body and sending him back. "W-what? What are you going to do...? Vergil!"
A distorted voice held under the energy of infernal might, "If this town wants their savior, I shall give them one..."
And with that, the world warps around his flesh and bone, his body coiling into a sidewinder through the air. The sound barrier breaks as he ascends higher and higher before finally reaching the low hanging clouds, the storm coalescing around him as drops of rain pepper his scales, his tail flourishing in the moonlight. Vergil is shadowed by its pale excellence, the light of his being cascading over all of Fortuna.
The blue exhausts on the side of his arms release more and more infernal energy, the devil curls in on himself as his body is wracked by the build up of kinetic energy.
'It's not enough to just win the war, these people will not be forced to change, but...'
'A true act of goodwill, always sparks another.' It's the only thing he knew for certain, he needed to make them see...
Using the propulsion from his wings and the flames exiting from his arms in violent exhumes, the devil flies across the sky at breakneck speeds, glittering blue light trailing his trajectory like a comet.
'I can see everything from here... The endless forest far beyond. The gold of this city bleeds into my vision... The magnificent Tower of Babel Andrei constructed himself... It's a farce.'
The looming tower in the distance looks over everything and more, reaching so far above the clouds that the top half isn't even visible... It's wider towards the bottom and it seems the entire urban district is connected back towards it somehow...
But Vergil isn't interested in that, it's a mere posture... An intimidation display.
'They erect statues of my father... And towers even higher... Yet, they embody none of his tenants. None of the tenets of a God...'
Whistling by the in progress statue of Sparda, the devil sought to do good in this city that was blind to it. If not to inspire another, if not to inspire others, because he wanted to. Sparda was his father, and if he was able to change humanity... To make them ally to demons...
Then so could he, no matter how hard.
Because he knew that most people would go through life hiding what they really want: a kind hand to hold... Everyone is to blame for this, the ignorance towards themselves and the willful blindness people undertake to justify their wages and cruelty... But they know.
They can see it, but it's far easier to walk by the man without a home than to invite him into your own... The easy path, the most convenient path...
Is not the best.
So fuelled by his desire to change this city for the better, Vergil's frustration ebbs into a constructive effort... To keep fighting for the world he wants to see, never forgetting the promise he made to save Credo... The promise he made to protect humanity, the quest to ensure peace.
Vergil promised to himself as well, 'When I find Credo, you won't be able to find recompense in your world anymore... The people will have seen the truth.' A promise to the wind, a promise to...
'Royai...'
They came and went, came and went, arrived and went... It was a cycle at this rate, none even offered so much as a glance... Their arrival here met with a decrepit man... He serves only as a warning, in this cold night... That is his only purpose.
In his drunken stupor, he masks his tragedy. "Haha, look at ye all!" Only the most observant of men could see through his guise, through his drunken raving... He sat at these docks, at the first steps into Fortuna most people took... As a warning towards those who come through, but... They could only ignore him.
For how could they see him? Their dreams would be crushed in an instant to see him, to look to the ground and see a man so lost in a city they've fought so hard to come into. They come here to worship Sparda; to find purpose. They come here to build business, to grow their wealth free of regulation.
But none... None realize the price for failure... The price of not being good enough to work, of the impairments of the mind. The price of atomism.
"You're diseased!" He says to them as they walk by.
"You don't get it!" He cries out as they ignore his pleas.
"If you fall... There will be no ONE to help you back up!"
"No one..."
Deflating against the wall, the man takes another swig of his beer... It's pointless isn't it, these people will never see what's in front of them, many will go on and their expectations will be shattered... Others will fail and become just like him.
'That... Or you join the order. What choice is there?'
The light silver light of the moon above all bled away suddenly, the blue of a new light shimmering in the sky like a comet; drawing the eyes of all present, even the homeless drunkard sitting right next to the docks... The blue shined in his eyes, sparking... Something.
"What is that?"
"It's a shooting star!"
"Wait... It's coming closer, oh dear-"
In an instant, the comet revealed itself to them all, being coated in the ephemeral energies of a blue succor... Each flap of its wings sent shivers through the crowd, invoking inspiration and drawing out their primal urges to worship a greater being...
The being landed, the exaltation of such a step sending electricity through his veins.
'Sparda?' Is the only word that comes to mind.
The first question for the many who watched this being hover amongst them, a being two and a half meters tall with a flaming aura that warmed all in his vicinity... Not a demon... But a devil.
Those of faith began to clamor for the being, surrounding the divine figure with their praise and their joy. But the drunkard could only watch with amusement, these people clamored and desperately clawed at the idea that their savior had returned. Phones and cameras from the outside world flashing as many and many more people began to come from their homes, surrounding him with their requests.
One comes right in front of him with begging eyes, "Please oh please great savior... Please give me my dues, my wealth, my owed!" A plump my shaking his hands at him.
Another lushes him out of the way, "No, ignore him! My family is much worse off, I need more rations!" Turning greedy yellow eyes to him, the devil does not respond.
"Silence wench, if this is truly Sparda... Then he would not help such a deplorable creature such as you!" They think he is his father, not exactly misguided, but foolish.
"I ask for fame and glory, please grant me this wish oh powerful lord..." Another chimes ignoring the others.
All around him shouts and echoing, men and women shouting over another... Clinging to the idea that their savior had returned, begging the devil to grant them their selfish boons. Vergil merely ignores them, wishing to find the source of his quest tonight, a man he saw on his first day here... Who reminded him of just what disease this city faced.
'These people want a wish maker, not a savior... And if there was, they would not grant such callous selfish intent, they clamor for gifts and yet offer none to the downtrodden.'
The man giggles, inebriated still and with all hilarity in the world. Still, it was interesting even in his drunken stupor that a demon could be friendly. Maybe that was his fault, this society... It breeds the ideas of absolutism.
Another testament to this world's hypocrisy; hatred of those who are different, who fail, who fall down... And yet.
This demon doesn't revel in it, turning his infernal gaze towards the drunkard. The man scratches his bald head and gazes confusedly, murmurs swirling around in his senses... The demon walks through the crowd wordlessly, a single minded gait.
It's sobering, realizing that this is no hallucination of the mind... This devil is actually right in front of him. The drunkard gulps as the giant creature stares down towards him with those emotionless infernal eyes of his.
The bald man waves his bottle at the demon, "What do ye want? Huh? You think my tattoo is funny don't ya?" The devil shakes his head, surprising him that the creature can even understand a word he's saying.
The crowd of people surrounding them grows and grows, more whispers and murmurs intermixing with the prayers of the people of Fortuna as the commotion in the night etches out into levels unthought of.
They say... A savior has returned.
They say... Sparda has returned.
But to the drunkard and the demon in question, only they exist at this time.
The devil nods and stands next to the drunkard before lowering his body, a regal elegance to his posture even in his sitting position against the very wall, right next to the downtrodden man.... The warmth rolling off his shoulders warms him in a way no alcohol can, the man stares with sobering eyes...
The two catch gazes, both sitting on a wall in this cold chilly breeze looking over the docks... "Well... Ain't that something..." The man chuckles to himself, eventually bursting into laughter with tears falling down his face.
This was no God...
Vergil was no God.
That was his statement to the world, to the people of Fortuna... Sitting next to the first sight that greeted him since coming to Fortuna, relishing in his presence and staving off the cold. That even despite his regal might and infinite strength, in his heart of hearts... Vergil had long dismissed the idea that he was greater than any other, that the weak should fend for themselves...
How could he? For he was weak once, and could only be strong by allowing others in his heart.
The lessons taught to him... He would never forget.
One by one more and more people join in around the decrepit drunkard as well, most seeking warmth, most seeking kindness... And some seek to give both as well, a testament to the fact...
They all just needed something true to believe...
For one true act of good will... Always...
Spark another.
'I just need to be that spark... To show these people what it really means to be a devil.'
As Vergil sat amongst the many men and women of Fortuna, some just arriving, some exiting their homes just for the chance to see him... A tame devil. A being whose power and divine presence could be felt directly, even despite the hatred of demons felt all throughout Fortuna... This was different.
This creature was no devil, not like the others... So they naturally found themselves drawn to him, to Vergil. It was ironic to the highest degree, the son of Sparda masquerading as a Sparda like figure... Warming those who'd come close to him.
A family of many children spoke in their foreign tongue, babbling about the unknown for he could not understand them... But that didn't really matter, he could tell by their joyful expressions that today was a day of hope for them all... A new beginning.
Vergil wanted to make that world in their minds... That promised future, he wanted to bring it to life... Fortuna could be a lie no longer, a place touched by his father's gentle hand. It was his duty to maintain it all was it not?
His magnificent scales bristled in the night as the children tugged and pulled on them, trying to snake their small fingers into whatever crevice they could find... Only to be slightly singed by the inferno below each one.
The plumes of dark blue hellflame exuding from his arms flushed over their skin like a warm blanket, the fury of his devil transformation held lower than typically possible, all for their sake... People who he didn't know, nor could understand.
Regardless, they were welcomed in his presence now... For Vergil knew that kindness could spark love, for each and every one of those who'd relinquish hate.
"Thank ye... Kind devil. Maybe it ain't so hopeless now, maybe it ain't so dark... I hope so." The homeless man edged up next to him, basking in the warmth he'd hardly known for so long...
His chest grumbled and his throat released a demonic chuff.
'That's right... You were right back then, weren't you... Asgore?'
Vergil chuffed again with his demonic vocal cords, a devilish warble. The bioluminescent energy flowing in his scales and hide reacted with his emotions, growing brighter and faster with surprise, before dimming, slowing in calm...
It was a tale as old as time really... For all his travels, no matter what system was in place, no matter how much a state, an organization, or government tried... The downtrodden remained. There was always the quiet few who remained at the bottom, who lacked the will, the resolve, ability or luck to pull them out of a rut... With no one to turn to, with no one to lend them that all too crucial hand.
He saw this axiom the moment he stepped foot here, that people were all but blind to the plight of their fellow man... It was not a cruel thing, to be blind to the suffering of others... But it could be remedied.
All they needed was someone to step up, to tear down their false delusions and show them the truth, by force if needed.
A scream resounded through the air suddenly and Vergil stood to his full height, 245 CM was borderline gigantism, his wings stretched out over the family and protecting them from any possible harm. The children crawled down from his stature and returned to their mother's embrace, crying into her robe as more screams sounded out.
'Demons?' At this hour? Typical hellspawn.'
Suddenly, the homeless man grabbed onto his clawed arm. "Ey devil guy... T-that's Ifalna, she screamed ain't she... Please, you gotta help her... Please!" His request drew a clench of the fist, Vergil narrowed his gaze.
'Ifalna?' The name echoed in his mind.
Vergil then growled at the sound of demonic retching, disappearing into thin air and reappearing dozens of meters above where he heard the screams originate. The light of blazing blue concentration sparked around him before blazing to life a powerful aura. There were dozens of them attacking, and the most crucial? His eyes followed the largest of the demons in its ascent, terror in the eyes of the woman held in its clutches.
He breathed in.
Moments ago...
Perhaps the filth that littered this district was a humbling thing, the relative low status... Perhaps she realized how much perspective it gave, a realization of where one stood in the world... A humbling reality for a woman like her.
The man... No, the boy... Who she was tasked in escorting, he wasn't particularly intelligent or outspoken... More nervous than anything, she could tell... He was the type of boy that respected the sanctity of a woman; his friends paid a handsome sum for her services, but the courtesan knew he wasn't comfortable. A well off boy from the upper districts, closer to Babel, if his dress and demeanour was anything to go by.
She used the voice she always does, "Hey, you don't have to employ my services... Would you like to talk about more simple matters?" It was enough to draw a red face, a fluster.
The boy had a soft face, dark blue eyes behold his pensiveness... "Er, I guess so... I just wish those guys didn't go this far, it's... It's, it's wrong." The courtesan giggled, just like she was taught to.
Her bright green eyes beheld amusement, "Maybe you're right, but it's all we've got out here." And all was allowed, is allowed by the order...
The young man sighed, "But...Don't you want anything more?"
The woman sighed in the realization of her surroundings, 'Do I... Want more?' it was a question she asked herself many times a day, but never directly by a man she was serving... It forced her to reflect at an inopportune time.
The dingy streets down here in the lower districts were littered with men and women working on the verge of poverty, most not mentally well enough to justify employment in the higher districts, much less Babel... It was the end of their means, those uneducated by virtue of lacking the means to afford it, or by means of lacking the mental capacity to indulge it... Or by those who reject the Order.
Men begged. "Spare a coin? Ey spare a coin ey?"
Kids bartered. "Got any food on ye?"
And yet...
"The Fortuna pretties, they sing so sweet but they seem so ditzy, oh the Fortuna pretties how they sing so kind but their lips gon leave ya blind!"
Many men and women could be seen spread all throughout even just this walkway, hiding, sleeping, crying, living with everything they could... But she couldn't witness them, couldn't catch their gaze... Otherwise she'd be stuck here all day.
She loved them as her own, these people... Her people, the downtrodden and weak... Not subjugated, but left to their suffering by those who just refused to see...
So finally, she gave him an answer. "I can't ask for more than I've been given, it's a luxury to be me in this world... Compared to others, to my family." She wears red, but In the moonlight her dress is coated in silver...
"I'm sure a noble man would take you as his wife." She laughed at his naivety, shaking her head.
It wasn't a question of beauty, rather taintedness... The only offers she'd ever gotten from men like that originate from a place of lust, whether it be the rich man, or the man of God-
Of Sparda. Oh how she wished the devil would help the outcast... For after all, he was an outcast too, once.
She glanced into the distance, watching as another ferry brought more innocent souls into the lower district... "I could never leave them behind." A wistful smile appeared across her delicate features, "Not when they've treated me as their own, for so long."
"You mean these people... What could they offer you? Mere pity?"
The courtesan shook her head, "No, kindness my friend. They've always been kind to me, regardless of what I am." She adjusted her brown hair, keeping it perfectly aligned just as it should be.
"..." He nods, looking away.
In the dark of night, the streets were hardly populated. Merely with beggars and the homeless at this time, still... She saw the crowd beginning to form around the docks further down the street, men and women clamoring as they always did... She could not blame them, for those with talent and marketable skill, Fortuna could be paradise.
But the same could not be said for many... But even to those without anything, paradise could still be found?
The courtesan stopped just short of tripping over a small table, "Uncle Garus?" She knew instantly who it belonged to, a small and elderly man with a balding grey scalp... His ever familiar and permanent smile, and those similarly green eyes of his.
His voice was soft and sagely, "Ahh... Dear beautiful Ifalna, what do I owe for this nightly visit? Would you like a cup of tea?" She bent down onto her knees, resting her small hands on her lap.
She bowed her slightly, "I'm sorry uncle, but I'm working right now... If I get off soon, I'll make sure to see you before I return to Mother Diana." Suddenly a small smirk appeared on her face, "Plus, you wouldn't want to continue your loss streak right?" The elderly man guffawed, his green eyes widening at Ifalna.
She eyed the game board tucked underneath the table, laughing softly as the elderly man gave her a feigned look of indignation.
Retracting his teacup, "Oh ho, I see how it is then... I suppose I must keep my tea to myself then, hm?" Suddenly the courtesan leaned over and gave the man a kiss on his bearded cheek, drawing an even wider smile from him.
He waved her off, "Take care my dear, and remember... You'll find the peace you seek in the service of others, and they will seek to service others in turn!"
Ifalna grinned at the man one last time, tilting her head and closing her eyes shut. Her client frowned at the imagery, a beautiful woman being so cozy with an old, ugly... Street rat.
But... As if sensing his malign. Suddenly, the sky begins to bleed red.
She sees Garus' eyes widen in shock, his tea kettle goes flying as he stands up with a serious face only coming up to about her height.
"Demons..." Gone is the elder's kindly face, replaced with one of dislike and true indignation.
Ifalna feels her heart skip a beat as the cold presence fills the air around them, eyes darting down the street as several creatures spawn from the ground in waves of blood... Malign and disgusting creatures bearing resemblance to insects, disfigured and disproportioned.
Her breath quickens as she watches the small yet dangerous pack of demons make haste towards the docks, "Oh no, that's... They want to prey on the new arrivals!" Her sultry accent slipped away, replaced with the frightful and youthful woman she was...
She took a tentative step forward only for a calloused hand to stop her, "Don't... My dear you can't possibly stand up to those foul beings, they will devour you and corrupt your soul!" Not much more to corrupt anyways...
'But... How can I just watch?'
She wants to help them, she can't bear to see people suffering. Her heart roars, telling her to run and chase these creatures off...
But Garus' grip is tight, and his resolve even tighter... "I'm sorry my dear, but I can't let you throw away your life... We have to wait for the order..." He bitterly spat out the name of their savior organization, almost in disgust.
Ifalna clutched the pendant around her neck tightly, a cross with the symbol of a sword etched onto it. "I know... But." Her heart was calling her now, and....
She had to answer, always...
By some miracle or by divine grace, she managed to slip out of Garus' grip, quickly tossing her heels away and dropping into a sprint.
"Ifalna!" She tightened her eyes, clenching them tightly shut as she ran forwards into the fray.
"Huff!"
"Huff!"
"Huff!"
"Huff!"
Her breath quickened and her bare feet slammed against the street, the pain ignored as she ripped off a long line of cloth from her dress. Stopping just short of the infernal sight, "Hey! Uglies!" She shouted with all her might, twirling a red strip of cloth in the air to draw their attention.
Instantly dozens of eyes snap to her position and away from their prey, blinking and red infernal lights illuminating her frame with deadly blight. The youthful upperclassmen had already run in the other direction, leaving her to face the beasts alone.
She felt panic rise and form beneath her skin, lacing her bones with fragile ice. But if anything... She was eye-catching. "I'll put that to good use now, so COME ON AND CHASE ME YOU DEMONS!" They finally relent... Turning fully to her with ravenous maws and mandibles drenched in saliva, their eyes lighting at the sight of the sin beneath her skin.
Her breath quickens once more, 'They can see it... Can't they?' Perfect, she thinks... But now comes the tricky part.
Escaping.
She could hear them growling, rumbling behind her with inhuman sound, closer and closer... The scent of burning flesh and demonic breath... Ifalna could only scream as a winged demon swooped down towards her with vitriolic spirit, her throat cracked painfully as she wracked her voice to be as loud as possible.
Two talons cut over her shoulders and wrapped around her arms, the red winged demon had snatched her from the very ground and hardly struggled to bring her higher and higher into the sky, the scalding wind against her hair and face drowning out her screams now. Pain cried from her shoulders, and the imminent death facing her now... It didn't seem so bad.
Her soul was condemned as is, was it not? Perhaps death was inevitable, she could only hope that her soul would burn away, not to be tainted by the demonic evil... Anything but that.
The next life was lost, but rebirth as pure malice? She would rather anything else happen than that.
And so the moon shines in the reflection from her kind eyes, silver and unchanging as it is... Just like this fate overhead, the condemnation of her sin would occur eventually...
Just as the Order said.
But it was not to be...
Appearing just above in a flash of light, the only word that came to mind when she saw this creature draped in perfect blue hellfire, the only idea... It was divine providence, shadowed in the image of the moon as it was the devil's twin set of wings coalesced around the moon like a perfect fit, its claws raised to the sky as if to cup the lunar body entirely...
An Angel.
Ifalna could only gasp as the world was slowed, in her eyes an angel... There could be no other explanation, 'It is... Sparda?' Only a devil such as him could invoke this feeling, a divine feeling in her filthy heart...
'I'd ask not for wealth...'
She watched him descend upon her and the devil, a flame enthralled around his fist.
'Nor for fame...'
The heavenly devil seemed so regal in this lunar light, even now...
'Not glory to shine on my name...'
Her pain subsided, and the warmth of a devil's hearth entered her own...
'I ask for nothing...'
As the heavenly fist fell upon the demon who'd captured her, the world fell away in a quick flourish of light and the moon seemed even brighter this close to the devil, he'd moved too quickly to even see...
She could hear his heart beating just as any man, the warmth of his scaled hide against her cheek... It somehow ebbed the pain into nothing but a memory, the wound on her shoulder closing up....
Crooking her head so that she could see her savior, her green eyes absorbed his rigid demonic features... Pointed spikes and thorns, all displayed so accurately and symmetrically... Unlike the discord that was the average deformed demon.
He was everything the savior was, and more.
And so in the bright light of the moon, they gradually descend towards the roof of a building, she can tell that her savior is searching for something with the way his burning eyes scan the city... Other demons perhaps.
Still, she felt safe in the arms of the savior... Gentle despite the strength he held, she was so small in comparison, it was almost enough to lull her-
Plop
She blinked a few times and came to her senses, the 'heavenly savior' had dropped her down without a second thought, edging towards the overlook before looking over the edge and witnessing his handy work. The devil seemed to grunt in approval.
Ifalna shook her head before standing up, clutching her bare shoulders as they were revealed now thanks to that winged demon.
Her green eyes snap towards the savior, watching idly as he prepares to take a leap back into the air-
"No! Don't go yet, please!" She reached out to him with urgency marring her features, her hand outstretched as far and quickly as possible.
The heavenly figure stopped, calmly turning towards her with a side glance. Ifalna stopped in her tracks, pelted to her spot underneath his gaze; she looked away, almost embarrassed to be standing before a savior like this... As to who she is, how could she ask anything?
Lowering her hand, "Do not think I'm greedy, I ask for nothing... I can get by easily enough." No response from the devil, it brought her doubt and worry that maybe this devil couldn't even hear her, understand her.
"But I know many less lucky than I, won't you... Won't you help them? Help them as you helped me?" She let her arms fall limp to her side, scrunching up her face as she let each word echo.
'Please help the outcast... Nobody else will, not a single one...'
"I... In my humble request, please hear this cocotte's prayer... I may just be an outcast to the people of Fortuna, a harlot..." Ifalna didn't dare match his gaze, afraid that he'd smite her where she stood.
She managed one last question, "But weren't you as well? An outcast I mean? Could you not offer them that mercy as well? They need you... They look towards you even now..." Ifalna let her question ring out for a moment, fearing the judgement of this entity so much higher than she was.
"I know I'm just a filthy peasant girl... I shouldn't ask you these things...",
Suddenly the light in the wind faded away, blue mutating into raw silver. Ifalna was half afraid that the deity had left her there, ignoring her calls as he had for so long...
But... Then he spoke, in a voice far softer than a devil could speak.
She clutched her heart as he did speak, "Someone of pure soul, of kindness... I did not think I'd find somebody like you in this place of all places, much less a courtesan of all people." Still unable to match his gaze, she appeared smaller and smaller as the footsteps of her savior came closer and closer.
"I'm glad at least in your eyes there is kindness, this place has left a bitter taste in my mouth. Your request has more merit than most."
Tears fell down her face one by one as the words she'd wanted to hear for so long... That she wasn't tainted or a wretch... Each droplet reflected the kind green of her eyes, the words of a man filling her soul and hearth.
"Stand, look towards me now." The deity commanded her to stand, and even through the blurry tearful vision she could still make out a man in front of her now... No devil.
Wiping her tears away, she finally glanced up to her savior, and for the second time that night her breath had escaped. The devil has been replaced with the image of a tall and regal man just as majestic, his slicked back silver hair practically glowing in the moonlight... He was much taller than her even now, but now...
Who was this man? A man who could... Who could take the form like the savior?
Ifalna let her eyes fall to the ground again, "Who are you?" Was he the savior, or was he damned just like her?
His eyes held many magnitudes of wisdom and understanding betraying his age, "I am no savior, I'm a man like any other and nothing more... But to truly answer your question, why not tell me who you are?" Ifalna gasped at her saviors question, green met blue and... And they stood across from another, the moon draped over their forms forevermore.
"I..."