Half-Devil vs. Zanpakuto

[Simon]

Dante exited Coruscant without much fanfare or excitement, for better or worse. With a couple of nods as he passed by the Stormtroopers, the Son of Sparda hoped to ensure that he was something of a buddy-buddy with this Empire... for the time being, at least. Never mind the fact that they took his bike - well, not even his bike, strictly, but the one he was using regardless.

Of course, that was just going to make this trek to the center of the Nexus take longer. Much longer. Maybe it'd be more fun if this place wasn't so damned empty!



Time passed, and eventually Dante's quiet trudging across the silent white expanse landed him at the Fountain. It was different this time, more in line with a traditional fountain one found at a major park - built from stone and marble and featuring sculptures of angels pouring out water into a surrounding pool. So the Fountain changed every so often, or did it simply conform to whomever recently arrived in the Omniverse? It was kind of a cool thing, if one was into that kind of stuff. At least Dante found himself interested, but he got the feeling that trying to get one for himself would just get trippy after a while.

Back to the point: someone here was offering a sword. Dante hoped that this wasn't some prank of a flasher or someone, but with a name like 'Zangetsu', it seemed he was some degree honest. And Dante did like powerful assets on his side: just ask Lady or Neil Goldstein. If there was any question as to whether or not he could even wield the sword, Dante would gladly prove the man wrong, one way or another.

Just one problem: there was nobody at the fountain. Nobody that he could see, anyways. Those shady dealers always liked to come out of nowhere when their presence was called for. So he started calling: "Hello? Anyone here?"

With no response, the devil hunter began to circle the center of the Nexus, looking out for anyone nearby. There was no such individual. There was, however, a sword. It looked all the world like an over-sized katana, the side of the blade far more fitting for a broadsword or even a falchion but still looking quite deadly. And if it happened to be built like a katana, then it had to be exceptionally strong in several factors, much like the Yamato when Dante had wielded it.

A memory flashed into his brain, of his dear brother, long gone. A hand instinctively went to the amulet chained around Dante's neck, the two halves of it clasped together. The lone Son of Sparda forced the memory out of his brain, not even considering Omni's words, to think of whatever he desired most...

Hard boots walked over to the blade lodged in the ground, the unknown surface making a strangely silent noise, except for the jangling of Dante's buckles and clasps. A single red ribbon tied from a loop on the hilt danged freely, blowing meekly in a nonexistent wind. Nobody was around, and this sword might've been the one to contain immense power. Why not take it for a test run and find out? A hand dressed with fingerless gloves reached out to grab the sword, intent on pulling the heaping blade from its resting place.

[Xehanort]

The Omniverse was a strange place, and the Nexus seemed to be full of it. Two bloodied bodies lay near the Fountain of infinity in a pool of their own blood. The fountain's waters ran a transparent red until the infinite amounts of water washed it all away. The body of Zangetsu's latest wielder lay slumped over the fountain, head submerged into the water, the body limp against the grey stone of the fountain's current shape. It had been maybe an hour sense he had separated from that man, leaving him to drown and bleed to death.

The other body? Simply just a result of sharing his instinct with the.. human. The human couldn't handle it and had his mind split into two halves, the one influenced by Zangetsu's essence while the other was trapped under the weight of it all in his world reflected by the depths of his soul that he could not escape. Had he passed Zangetsu's test, the key to escape would be given.

Just moments prior the floor had been seemingly stained red. Now.. it was all gone as if it had never happened. The blood on Zangetsu's blade however was very much visible. He himself was not able to to clean the drying, crusting red life force from his cold steel.

Zangetsu yawned and walked around the black void his world returned to and sat in a chair completely made of the darkness of the Zanpakuto's mind. Just when the calm set in and his eyes drooped to a shut in rest. Rest however would not come. Movement jerked Zangetsu alert as he was risen by what seemed like his new wielder. He yawned and looked at the new wielder, and eh liked what he saw.

The man was like a human, but the white hair was strange. From the grip the man exerted on Zangetsu's hilt, he could tell this man knew how to wield a sword, but when his senses dulled by Omniphysics, Zangetsu could not tell who or what this man was.

Zangetsu grinned and stroked his chin as if scratching at the edge of his mask and remember the topic he had posted to the Dataverse. Probably this is one that had seen it? Interesting.

"Sorry about the mess.. not my best work"

[Simon]

It took a bit of effort for Dante to heave the blade up to where he could grip it fully. But he did so without complaint, hoisting the weapon to test its heft. True to form for being an oversized katana, it was considerably weighty, but not so much that Dante's strength was lacking to wield it.

Now able to view the blade's design much more up close, the clever half-devil noted the layer of blood long splashed upon the weapon's tip; looking back to the area it was at, Dante didn't see any other smattering of the red fluid anywhere on the ground of the Nexus, or even in the fountain. Perhaps he could chalk that part up to the seemingly mutable nature of the Nexus. In any case, the weapon had clearly seen use before, and in recent time too, otherwise the blood would not still be a brighter hue of red.

And then some voice rang out in his head: "Sorry about the mess... not my best work."

Dante turned about to look at anything that had managed to say such a thing. Especially strange considering there wasn't much of any mess left around. And then Dante's privy knowledge clicked - there wasn't anything outside, it was in his head. Which at this point, could mean this 'weapon full of great power' was either a living being or just a possessed object. Or there was something else with psychic power that he couldn't see, all too typical of a mysterious entity.

"Hah, if you call this a mess, you should see some of my own past works," Dante quipped, brandishing the weapon in ready. "Why don't I try and prove it, huh? What do you think of that?"

And, without an answer, Dante reared back with the weapon and began to slash around at nothing, in a display of skill. Between his strength and his technique, the Son of Sparda was able to wield the oversized sword with impressive capability. A simple combinations of flowing slashes, leading into several harsh cuts and wide sweeping attacks, and finishing with a severe overhead cut that stopped moments before striking the ground. Hopefully a fine demonstration, to say the least.

[Xehanort]

"Hah, if you call this a mess, you should see some of my own past works, Why don't I try and prove it, huh? What do you think of that?"

What he thought huh? The guy proved that he could use Zangetsu on imaginary targets. To be fair there wasn't anything worthy enough to cut through nearby. This Dante had some nice handy work when it came to a blade. It wasn't a style that he was intended for, but it worked. What impressed the Zanpakuto was the way the blade work played out. It seemed to be purely instintual rather than planned, like Zangetsu was an extension of Dante himself.

Instinct.

It was an aspect that Zangetsu represented the most. It was something he respected the most. This man could probably benefit from what Zangetsu could offer as well as control it. Zangetsu smiled and concentrated on his little ball of Omnilinium, summoning his sheath onto Dante's back, his brown belt tightening and buckling over Dante's shoulder until it was tight and secure enough to bear Zangetsu's weight.

"I don't believe I caught your name Stranger? If you followed my dataverse entry, you only.. halfway know mine", the sword spoke. On a physical plane, the word Zangetsu is hollow, having only a meaning of understanding with the one that speaks it. However to truly know Zangetsu is to know him on a spiritual level and feel the power the word brings. Such an intimate relationship was hard to sustain here in the Omniverse, the bonding only lasting a short time.

"In time I shall test you myself, but that man in the fountain has Exhausted me."

[Simon]

After his display of unique swordwork, Dante soon became aware of something tightening around his back, a belt of shining Omnilium wrapping around his form like a shoulder strap. And so it was, to the large sheath he became aware of, securing crosswise over the leather strapping that secured Rebellion to his back. With still no other figure in sight, Dante was left to assume that this weapon was, in fact, some sort of sentient entity, and that offering had proved to be a bit more literal that he had guessed.

Not that it was necessarily a strange thing to Dante. He had dealt with talking and living weapons before, but thankfully this was proving not to be as annoying as his prime example, Agni & Rudra. While Zangetsu was still a heavier type of weapon than he was typically used to, it shouldn't get in his way majorly.

"You didn't get my name?" Dante replied to Zangetsu's question, a hint of mock surprise in his tone. "I mean, technically, I have a couple of names. But you... can call me Dante." Finished with the weapon for now, he returned it to the newly-formed sheath at his back. "So I guess you're Zangetsu then, or what?" He asked, however, at the living blade's comment about Dante only halfway knowing its name.

The weapon's final comment about testing Dante personally later one seemed a bit ominous, but it also brought to light how 'alive' this thing really was, to be and feel exhausted. But which man in the fountain? Probably one that disappeared or something when it changed.

"So I just have to live up to your 'test', huh?" Dante smirked - this weapon wasn't going to concede its true power until he could prove himself to it through whatever trial it had in mind. "Well, then, I'm looking forward to it," the Son of Sparda concluded, starting to pace back to the Coruscant gate from the fountain. "But if you can help it, let's get it over with soon and quick. I think that would benefit us both that way."

Before he reached the gate, he hoped. And it was a long trip to the gate; a couple of hours, on foot.

[Xehanort]

Dante, such an old name but one well fitting of this red coat wearing warrior. He grinned and stood walking over to the black wall of his world of voice, resting his hand against it. This guy wanted to prove himself so Zangetsu would give him the chance.

"As you wish, But a warning before I do this: steel yourself. Guard your emotions and keep them in check. I am pure instinct... when we join if you do not have a strong grip on yourself you will not be able to control us. Remember the bodies?", he said, sinking his hand through the black wall, causing it to ripple as his arm sank into it. His hand pushed into the depths of Dante, gripping his soul tightly. A few moments of concentration and zangetsu successfully fused with this.. being's soul.

Zangetsu was quite impressed. The man was Half-Devil. In Dante's world it was a race of beings with a similar essence as Zangetsu's Hollows. The man would definitely have a better chance than the poor fellow taking a drink from Infinity.

As far as souls go, Dante was practically half-Devil/Hollow and quarter human. Sure he could feel the new found power just from properly wielding zangetsu. It was a great feeling he was sure.

While in the depths of Dante's soul, he tidyed up. He created an inner world in the same fashion his "Void" was, using the strongest memories he could feel from his benefactor. Zangetsu grinned as the run down, bar like atmopshere of a shop that Dante had owned prior to this snatching. Zangetsu modeled it from when it began its services, before it had earned its name, "Devil May Cry". The Zanpakuto couldn't help but chuckle at the name. It spoke much about Dante's character, serious in a laid back, confident way.

Zangetsu looked around, the various pieces of furniture still new and undamaged in the man's shop. The Juke-box and pool table nearly shined with a brand new finish. The shop's music box no longer flickered and shown its light in a low glow, inviting any to walk up and put it to work. The pool balls were unchipped and unmarked, never used. The floor shown appearing to be recently waxed. Various devil arms decorated the room with a rack on the wall labled with Zangetsu's name, yet empty of the blade by that name.

The Zanpakuto walked over to dante's desk and sat into the leather chair, resting his back. Dante's desk had gone through some improvements as well. A gleaming plague shining in golden font spelled out Dante's name clear to anyone who walks in the door.

It was time to populate the building. Drawing from his own memories he summoned apparitions of Ichigo Kurosaki in his grey highschool uniform by the pool table, who grasped pool cue into his hands. His appearance mirrored Zangetsu's nearly, only the Zanpakuto wore white shinigami robes. Ichigo had different skin color and hair color as well, the latter burning a blazing orange contrasting from his dull brown eyes. The apparition started to set up the pool table for a match before waiting for an opponant.

Zangetsu pulled his once other self here as well, the black robe wearing, sunglasses donning, middle aged man leaning cross armed in the corner, his chin tucked into his chest as if he were asleep like that.

For the remaining occupants, he drew from Dante's memories.

Vergil, Dante's brother, sat in a chair beside the jukebox, twirling a pendant between his fingers. He seemed uninterested in the world around him even when Lady, a woman from Dante's past, chatted him up. Ichigo's opponant in a game of pull would be none other than Trish, a devil made in the form of Dante's mother, even if clothed more promiscuously than the former, who sat in a chair beside Zangetsu's other, The Old man.

She sat there, a soft smile upon her lips and her arms clasped as if in prayer.

For the final act, Zangetsu pulled Dante from his point of conciousness to this world within himself. If he were in fine control of himself as Zangetsu advised, he would be concious in both the physical sense and in the spiritual sense, with the former assaulted in with the pure instinct to battle and cleave his blade through any he may see. He smiled seeing his wielder walk into the replicated Devil May Cry shop.

"Welcome Dante-boy, to our shop.", Zangetsu stood and walked around Dante's desk to the front of it, grasping his katana-like broad sword lightly in his pale hands. He pointed it towards the ground and dropped it, the blade sinking into the wood, but it would keep going until it was completely sunken into the floor, leaving no mark of what had happened.

"Your first test is simply to find your sword. The longer you take, the harder it will be to control your physical body from hurting someone, something, or yourself." He said with a chuckle, sitting back against Dante's desk.

"You wondered what the second half of my name was Dante. Normally you couldn't feel it back in my world but you can here. That feeling, that instinct is the second part of my name. It is something understood, something felt, but not something spoken. Follow the feeling and find me."

[Simon]

Dante's probings seemed to make the spirit (or whatever it was) within the weapon concede and begin its trials. It warned him, declaring it was pure instinct and that Dante would do well to keep his emotions as level and protected as he could afford - otherwise, when they 'joined', Dante would not be able to control them properly. He merely nodded, slowing down to a shambling pace when he felt some external force probing at his spirit.

So this was a weapon that relied on fusing with another being to draw out its greater power? Now this wasn't something Dante had much experience with; most Devil Arms he wielded were merely the spirits of the fallen Devil themselves, conceding ownership to whomever bested their might. And this wouldn't be anything like Rebellion, either, for Zangetsu was a separate weapon fusing with Dante's soul. Then, truly, it would do well for Dante to be on his guard. His powers were one that could grow... unstable, when unchecked.

Several agonizingly long moments ticked by as Zangetsu pierced Dante's spirit, perhaps judging him or formulating some sort of challenge. While the Son of Sparda did his part to steel himself, he couldn't help but feel a certain power resonating from Zangetsu. If this worked out, Dante would have himself a very powerful tool.

Then, at last, Dante vision began to swim, his senses betraying him and giving way to a new environment. A door appeared, and Dante pushed forward with both hands, taking a careful breath and preparing to face any foe...

A bell jingled above him, and his vision refocused. Immediately, Dante was confronted by the sight of a quaint, old-fashioned office, cleaned and shined like it was just made yesterday. A pool table and single couch laid off to the left. A neon-lighted jukebox and several couch chairs, alongside a drum set and electric guitar, were propped off to the left. Several potted plants dotted the various nooks and corners in the office. The lamplight from the ceiling, only disturbed by the swishes of a lazy hanging fan, emphasizing the finished wood paneling, the antique rug that sat upon it, and the finely-carved desk which sat upon that, complete with a new gold plaque.

What was surprising was the certain population of people here. The billiards were currently in use by who was undeniably Trish, along with a fiery-haired teenager with a monochrome japanese uniform. Beside one of the plants, a middle-aged man in a flowing black robe leaned on the wall sleepily and the spitting image of Eva sat, her hands together warmly. Vergil sat in a chair next to the jukebox, twirling his half of the Perfect Amulet by two fingers while Lady absently spoke to him. And behind the desk sat a ghostly-white figure in bleached clothes matching the teenager, who took the gigantic katana beside him and stood up to walk in front of the desk.

The plaque on the desk, meanwhile? Dante, Son of Sparda.

"Welcome, Dante-boy, to our shop."

The same voice from before, now spoken from the pale thin lips of the ghostly one. "Our shop, huh?" The Son of Sparda echoed with a chuckle and a hint of doubt, before the white man dropped the sword blade-first into the wood-paneled floor. The floor seemed to absorb the weapon entirely, leaving no trace of impact or indication it was ever there.

"Your first test is simply to find your sword. The longer you take, the harder it will be to control your physical body from hurting someone, something, or yourself."

He wasn't wrong. While Dante had since lower his guard somewhat, being in so familiar grounds, he still felt his battle instinct burning away in his core. There was some itch that didn't just say that someone here was going to attack him, it just told him to fight, to destroy, to do something violent at all.

"You wondered what the second half of my name was, Dante. Normally, you couldn't feel it back in my world, but you can here. That feeling, that instinct is the second part of my name. It is something understood, something felt, but not something spoken. Follow the feeling and find me."

"Woah, back up. Find you?" Dante immediately shot back, his voice ringing in objection. "Because you said the goal is to find that sword, right? So what is it, find you, or the sword...?" His voice faltered, and one could almost see the gears turning in his head.

His mind working on a ticking time bomb, Dante put together the facts before he made a rash assumption. This individual had the same voice that Dante registered in his head when he picked up the weapon. It referred to itself as an individual being, yet made from pure instinct and with the power to mold a world like this with insight from a wielder's soul. And, moreover, when it asked Dante to obtain his sword, Zangetsu then asked Dante to follow his instinct and find him.

"...Oh, but that's the trick, isn't it?" Dante spoke again, coy and alight with new understanding. He pointed a lazy but accusing finger at Zangetsu's snow-white form. "You are the sword. The essence within the weapon. You're the real one I need to find. Am I wrong?"

[Xehanort]

"You are sharp Dante-boy.. but you arn't there yet", He giggled and crossed his arms, sneering at dante in mock contempt. He was so close to getting it all but he failed to understand one thing. It was the sol reason why Dante felt differently as he did. It was the reason that no matter what, he could not bring himself to separate from the blade. It was a phenomenon that came with the joy of the Omniverse. They were one, not just in spirit, but in body and mind, even if their personalities hadn't meshed completely.

The whole object to the test was to recognize this one thing, and dante failed to realize it. He laughed harder and held out the palm of his hand, the sword falling from the cieling to his hand. He gripped it tight and stood, dragging its massive blade accross the imaginary wood. Dante was only using his original self, not the combined mind of Zangetsu and Dante. He would have to change this.

Zangetsu stepped foreward and in a split-moment, thrust his sword into Dante's chest, piercing the depths of his heart. Like a syringe he injected himself into dante's side of the mind, sharing with him all that Zangetsu was: his mind, his thoughts, his desires. In his world such a thing would be impossible and improbable. His was a world of obsticles to overcome or succumb to, but this world of infinite possiblity didn't follow this rule.

Through the blade Zangetsu sampled Dante's memories, experiencing all his adventures himself. The half devil had been through so much. Nearly constant conflict with other-worldy beings. It was his profession, a job he did amazingly well. Armies of hell couldn't bring him down as he cut through them nearly effortlessly. It was surely a sight to behold! What he would kill to see it with his own eyes.

Zangetsu licked his lips. His form and the room around them shown changes. The beings of memory had faded as Dante and Zangetsu accessed them. Making the memories their own. Zangetsu's appearance changed likeness from Ichigo's to Dante's image of when he was younger, fresh, and confident. It was a time when Dante's instinct was growing strong. The zanpakuto spirit looked up, smirking at dante.

"Do you get it now? When we are like this.. we can overcome great walls in front of us. I am not a tool, I am the closest ally you have here... Don't you understand Half-Devil?", Zangetsu let his blade loosen in his grip and stepped away, leaving it impaled in Dante's chest. Zangetsu's appearance reverted back to normal, his expression calmer and less menacing than usual. Keeping this fusion going was taking its toll.

"You've found me... now.. let us go", He walked passed dante and opened the door, its shiny bell ringing over head. He looked back at dante before walking through, leaving the small inner world as it dissolved around Dante. It was an interesting but brief encounter. Zangetsu quite enjoyed himself. Upon leaving he grinned. His meeting had provided Zangetsu what he needed to exist outside the prison of his sword.

Back in the physical realm, Zangetsu had already begun his work. Like scraps of paper falling apart, Zangetsu's blade degenerated before reassembling piece by piece before the half-devil's eyes. Donning his white shinigami robes and his blade upon his back he stood there, clenching his fists and moving his arms about, testing his muscles.

"Having a body is stranger than I would have thought.....", he said to himself, patting himself down to test his sense of touch.

[Simon]

Dante's own coy smile struggled to stay whole at Zangetsu's reply. He gave a reassuring laugh (mostly just fooling himself) while trying to figure out the missing element. His assertion was right, wasn't it? Dante shot his eyes around, observing the various memories, moving and acting as if these two weren't having a decisive battle of wits before their eyes.

Zangetsu's laughing intensified, and he held out a hand, the disappeared blade suddenly falling from the ceiling for the pale ghost of a man to catch it. He swiped it across the polished wood floor, and then, all too suddenly for Dante to stop, he lunged forward. Hastily, Dante brought up his crossed arms to block the assault- and failed completely, the massive katana piercing his chest and digging into his his heart. Did he not have Royalguard? No, of course he didn't. How silly.

After that split-second of regret ended, Dante bit his lip to hold back a strained, agonizing scream. Barely succeeding, he managed to choke out, "Again? Seriously?" I mean, just how many times had this sort of thing happened before?

Also to note, getting stabbed through the heart felt worse that normal. But maybe that was because of the sudden influx of feelings overwhelming his mind. Desires, urges, errant thoughts, mentality... he wasn't just feeling Zangetsu's power, he was getting every fragment of his emotion and instinct. So this was his gimmick - to fuse with a host to share everything with them, not just raw power but emotion.

It sucked, in Dante's opinion. Sharing his mind with another entity wasn't exactly popular in his book, especially when being mocked and stabbed in the process.

The half-devil tried to shift on the blade, either to get off of it or to get close enough to plant a fist into Zangetsu's smug-ass shark-grin face. Unfortunately, his attempt backfired when moving caused a new spear of pain to shoot up his spine, piercing his mind. Dante cringed and keeled over standing, desperate to stay on his heels. Looking down, the sword wasn't causing any physical wounds, but it was penetrating his spirit, an aspect of him that was capable of harm and suffrage all the same, just under different circumstances.

And suffering he was. Zangetsu's desire to see into Dante's memories forced him to relive them for himself, the images speeding through his mind like a video on fast-forward. All the battles he won and demons he slayed, alongside all the painful deaths and losses. He was not invincible at heart, especially with his being a half-blood, and Zangetsu had to know that. Or, perhaps, he was just keen to gloss over the emotional pain and focus on what simply interested his own desires.

The Son of Sparda grit his teeth again and looked up to face Zangetsu again, but was greeted by a different visage - his own. A monochrome shadow of himself, when he was younger and more spry, but also more impulsive and conflicted. Not his prime if you asked him, but Zangetsu apparently thought otherwise; or maybe thought likewise, and assumed such a form to mock Dante. In that case, Zangetsu was a jerk.

"Do you get it now? When we are like this.. we can overcome great walls in front of us. I am not a tool, I am the closest ally you have here... Don't you understand, Half-Devil?"

Dante reached out angrily, but Zangetsu was already walking away, leaving the giant blade lodging in Dante's torso. Dante growled threateningly back, now struggling to remove the over-sized weapon from his heart. "I told you - call me Dante...!"

Without much fanfare, Zangetsu reverted to his previous form, walking past the strained Dante to exit the shop. Still, the people in the room talked and acted as if nothing strange had happened. The bell jingled, and a moment later, the door closed, the sounds and sights beginning to fade.

At last, with a mighty heave, Dante wrenched the sword from his chest, his spirit sparking with one more flare of pain before subsiding into an internal ache in his heart. Throwing the apparition away into the fading void, Dante closed his eyes to catch his breath... and opened them back in reality, to find a vastly different sight: the sword that was Zangetsu reforming before him into a new form. Reassembling into that pale ghast he had seen within that inner world, the instinct-driven weapon seemed keen to enjoy his new freedom, even if he regarded this body with strangeness.

But Dante had other intentions for that wicked personification of instinct.

Summoning his strength, Dante drew Rebellion from his back and pointed it at Zangetsu's pale form. "I think we've reached something of a disagreement," he said, with a surprisingly light tone for someone who was just spiritually impaled. It gave the impression of a potentially insane character, but Dante was just trying to get into his normal groove. "I came here to obtain a weapon from someone named Zangetsu, not waste my time aligning myself with some sword with a mind of its own.

"And you know what? Maybe I don't get it," Dante admitted forcefully, swinging his broadsword in brandish. "But I'd rather be ignorant and free than be a one-track instinct-driven fiend!"

[Xehanort]

The new -angetsu stood there and crossed his arms. By becoming one with this man a nerve must have been cut, for the half-devil was angrily shouting and waving his sword at him. The being robed in white turned to face the man. He was a changed man, so to speak. He wasn't entirely instinct. Within his soul retained bits and pieces of Dante's memory, his thoughts. It gave Zangetsu new ideas. He grinned, ignoring the majority of what the white-haired Dante-boy had to say.

a Zanpakuto had to be wielded. However here, that wasn't necessarily true. It seemed way too much trouble, and so far three wielders had grasped his hilt. One nearly drove Zangetsu in annoyance. The other was too fragile to be able to handle the fusion of their souls. The other well... angsty? Dante showed promise, much like Ichigo did. However there was one main difference between the two. One didn't have a choice when it came to dealing with Zangetsu, the other did.

His eyes lit up and traced over the Half-Devil-Angsty-Dante-Boy's figure. He was ticked off for sure, but it was all bark. If he really wanted to use that blade, Zangetsu doubted he would hesitate like this. Probably a habit of his. It wasn't a good method for making friends.

"I'm sorry..i couldn't quite get all that,", He said bluntly, mockingly scratching the inside of his ear with a finger. ", but you seem irritated... did I set you off? haha!"

He couldn't help but laugh. This was all too entertaining. "You have a choice here you know. Remember you're the one who came to me, Dante-boy. Do you want my help or don't you?Trust me Dante-boy, I don't need you. The physics of this world has assured me that."

"Yes.. or no. Choose now.", he said, turning and starting to walk away. If he wasn't stopped there was a certain person he'd like to catch up to and grind into the nexus's Non-existent dirt.

[Simon]

Round 1 begins.

Zangetsu seemed all too coy. Something of a violent chessmaster, a spirit who wanted his own way only and would twist any rule, any person, to his own gains. And if they didn't cooperate... well, he had a big sword.

Dante was privy to the working of people like this, but not exactly bearing Zangetsu's attitude. But the Son of Sparda had an advantage yet, with Zangetsu having injected his own understanding and being into Dante. He knew that the sword spirit was a being of instinct, deriving strength from the instilling and empowerment of base emotions. However, Zangetsu himself was simultaneously something more wicked than simply that, having his own mentality and agenda. Cunning, violent, and otherwise unpredictable.

As Zangetsu asked his piercing question, Dante reflected the question upon himself in a more proper manner: did he even want this sword? Certainly not now, but in the first place? Strictly speaking, he wanted power. All the power he had lost-

It hit Dante like a motorcycle to the face. He was turning into his brother, driven cold and obsessed with reclaiming all the might and magic he rightfully deserved. Dante had proved his loyalty to living swords before, and defeated devils many times larger than himself for a weapon made from their undying soul. But that was different, because he wasn't doing it for the weapon; he was simply trying to go about his business, and their business happened to get in his way.

Now, he was just trying to get a strong weapon. A weapon, Dante discovered, who was alive, had its own motivations, and was actually something of a rebel in his own right. Devil Arms were spirit and instinct too, but Zangetsu was far more than that, and far more dangerous, therefore.

The pale being was already starting to walk away into the like-colored world when Dante let out a laugh of his own: a lighter echo of Zangetsu's that gave off the chill, yet ticked-off tone the red-coat used earlier. "Pretty stupid choice, if you ask me. Do I need your help? Do I need your 'help'?" The rebellious Son of Sparda hailed to Zangetsu, the devil hunter already slacking his shoulders and adopting a more carefree poise, even with Rebellion still dangling from his right hand. "Oh, but I guess you still don't know everything about me... so why don't I give you a little education?"

The devil hunter stepped forward, shooting an accusing finger at the bleached figure. "Listen good: I don't need help, certainly not from you. When I pick up a sword, it's to try something different. When I win a Devil Arm from a slain devil, it's because I killed them with my skills, and not some particular magic weapon. And when I pick a fight with that devil in the first place, it's because it's my job - my duty - to kick their ass."

Dante finally hoisted Rebellion to his shoulder, taking his left hand from a point into a mocking "come here" gesture. "So come on, then. I'd hate to see you go down without a fight," the devil hunter mocked in challenge, in prompt for Zangetsu to draw his sword and face him down. And as he did, Dante made the first move.

Using his side-facing posture, Dante leaned forward and plunged himself into a sprint, dropping Rebellion from his shoulder to let the tip of the blade drag across the surface of the milky void. As he neared Zangetsu's form, the devil hunter twisted his arm to flip the blade from the ground and wind up for an upward swing from his right side, striking diagonally at his hip across his torso. He would pour much of his forward momentum into the attack, but if Dante could help it, he would only inject a major fraction, leaving enough to move ahead yet but not so much as to be uncontrollable. The intent was to follow through with the one-handed leading strike to transition into a stronger two-handed grip, a staple of Dante's basic swordplay.

[Xehanort]

Silence.

Not a damn word was said since Zangetsu's ultimatum. For a bit he took the silence as "No". The question, "Yes or No" was not hard in particular. Only two choices: Gain Zangetsu as a potential ally or not. Here in this world of complete infinite possibility, it was completely up to Dante. He smirked and crossed his arms loosely, his feet stepping softly across the ground, at least until a near mockingly mirroring cackle rang in Zangetsu's ear.

'Oh no.. I didn't break him did I?', he thought to himself with a smile as he turned to face Dante. He had gotten his attention, now it was time to hold it. Zangetsu could see the seriousness in his body motions down from the tensing of his muscles down to the tightening of his grip upon his blade, Rebellion. This man seemed as if he were going to strike.

'Good, something to break the boredom.', he thought to himself as his hand moved to the crimson weaved hilt of his blade, slowly drawing it from his sheath. He half listened to what Dante had to say, but caught something about Dante not needing Zangetsu. That was all good and all, but Zangetsu didn't recall using that exact word. He chuckled and took his sword into both of his hands, taking the ready stance commonly found among the Soul Reaper's form of Kendo as Dante motioned for him to ready himself.

It would seem like Dante was offended by what Zangetsu was. It was funny because Zangetsu was made up of a pure part of what made humans what they were, meaning Dante held a little bit of what Zangetsu was within him. It was waking up within the half-devil and now he was going to wield it. For good or for worse this fight would be one to savor.

Dante charged, readying his Rebellion to strike. Zangetsu stepped off his back heel and dashed to meet him. He grinned wider and cackled. This was just too good. Finally there was a good enough challenge here to help the Zanpakuto burn time. Once Dante was in range to unleash his opening strike, Zangetsu leaped forward, bashing the cutting edge of his sword into Rebellion's edge, keeping it from following its path. With the blades locked he grinned and licked his lips.

"Wow Dante-boy.. you sure are angry. Somebody piss in your cereal this morning?", Zangetsu laughed and leaped back bringing his blade down, arcing through the air. He aimed for Rebellion's hilt, intending to disarm Dante before the fight could truly begin. He hoped Dante would dodge. If he could this battle had quite the potential.

[Simon]

"Seriously? Just shut up and fight, chalk-face."

With a rude answer to a rude question, Dante took the moment of clashed blades to adopt his two-handed grip in any case, completing at least the second intent of his preliminary attack. That counter-attack leading into the blade clash had ruined his momentum plan, but he'd preserve nonetheless.

It didn't even much seem like Zangetsu had paid any mind to the words the Son of Sparda had to share, focusing more on the battle... and getting on Dante's nerves. For better or worse, one supposed- to Dante, it was just more proof that this was getting to be a waste of time. And unlike a showdown with Vergil resulting in a combat filled with only their might and skill, Zangetsu seemed to be rather keen at psychological warfare as well, making this a battle on two fronts. Prove Zangetsu's instinct wrong and lose the fight, or win and prove him right?

Obviously, the answer was the one in which that damn sword spirit died and got out of Dante's hair.

With a burst of strength, Dante took Rebellion in both hands and manually followed through with his strike, looking to knock back to disarm Zangetsu's huge sword with the notches at the end of his own blade. Before that could strike true, however, the wicked white figure jumped away and retorted with a wide downward slash aimed for Dante's raised hands. Not one to fall for such a maneuver so quickly, the devil hunter quickly ducked and threw himself into a forward-side roll, following the direction of the massive katana to avoid it. His success, however, was marked by a thin, sharp scratch that scarred his jacket and ran up his lower back.

Righting himself from his narrow dodge, Dante swing Rebellion hard at Zangetsu's torso, hoping to damage an arm. Zangetsu was able to quickly deflect the attack with a mere lifting of his blade. Unfazed, the spry devil hunter merely spun the broadsword over his head to go for another pass; this, too, the hollow easily avoided and countered with his own big slash to Dante's midsection. He attempted to fall back to avoid it, but like before earned a small gash on his side for the effort. Before Dante could act further yet, Zangetsu lunged forward to lash out for the half-devil's head, with Dante only just able to block it with a slash of his own.

The blades clashed, grinding against each other and sending tiny sparks scattering to the ground. Once more, Dante tried and failed to take up the offensive, the hollow zanpakuto able to easily rebuke any attack. The spirit was too fast for Dante to match, and his skill over his weapon seemed to rival Dante's own - or had Dante merely gotten worse since entering the Omniverse?

This cycling of blows ran through once more, with Dante trying to whack down Zangetsu only to be repeatedly countered. Finally, after their third clashing of blades, the Son of Sparda allowed himself to fall back, pushing away to distance the two fighters. It seemed only Dante was experiencing any strain whatsoever, working hard to just barely keep up with Zangetsu. Moreover, the half-devil's frustration was too evident, something the white figure seemed to draw a lot of satisfaction from; that fact, too, redoubled Dante's fury.

As he faltered, however, Zangetsu seized the moment and taunted Dante again: "Aw, did you go and wear yourself out, Dante-boy?"

The devil hunter sneered spitefully at the hollow's pet name for him, but it only seemed to confirm the question to Zangetsu. He leered smugly at a teeth-grinding Dante for a moment, his sword held idly, when he suddenly declared, "Oh, what a damn shame. And here I was, thinking you might be an actual challenge. But then again, this must be why you came to me for help-"

"I said, shut up and fight!" Dante cried out with undeniable fury, punctuating his demands by rearing back and then chucking Rebellion like a javelin at Zangetsu. He quickly followed up by drawing his twin handguns Ebony & Ivory and clicking out several shots. If he couldn't match the swordfighter up close, he'd have to take the element of surprise and do it at range. The Son of Sparda didn't want to so quickly resort to his alter ego...

[Xehanort]

Zangetsu was enjoying himself probably more so than his formation not long before this day. The wind generated by the dancing blades of Zangetsu and Rebellion weaved through Zangetsu's pale hair. Sparks radiated from the hard contact of their blades, burning small holes through the "Chalk Faced" man's kimono. Though it would seem neither side was taking damage, Zangetsu's skill and power was practically dominating Dante's attempts at swordplay. Zangetsu knew he could do better. When they were one he had seen it in the depths of his memories. Perhaps coming here had crippled his skill?

Before his thought process could continue, Dante had leaped back a bit and heaved Rebellion at Zangetsu. The Hollow spirit braced his blade, and swatted Rebellion's midsection away, likely putting it out of the battle.. Zangetsu wasn't unscathed from this. A small cut on his face showed just how close he was to being skewered. Zangetsu's face relaxed, amused of this display of battle instinct. It was enough to catch Zangetsu off guard.

He would be Damned if this was the end of Dante's display.

While the sword spirit's attention was driven away by the crimson garbed Half Devil, the latter had drawn two shining pistols and opened fired. His smug look tightened, becoming one of seriousness. The first volley of rounds caught Zangetsu in the chest, nearly knocking him off of his feet due to the impact. He found himself gasping and wheezing, a round catching him in throat. It was as if he was being barraged with a thousand fists. After a few moments since it began he found himself driven to one knee, his blade covering the majority of his vitals covered by the blade's sheer width, even though his limbs still took the punishment.

For the first time since coming here, this was the first time he found himself without words that weren't "aghghhg" or other noise synonymous with pain, but not for a lack of trying.

Zangetsu let out a bloodcurdling laugh, which was probably brought out by the pain rather than the sheer fun he was having. The spirit regained his footing and charged headfirst into the spray of non-lethal bullets, with the majority of them ricocheting off of Zangetsu's steel. Before long he had reached the source of the steel rain, twisting his wrist and swinging the blade down in an over-head arc, only to clank against the ground as Dante rolled away.

It wasn't a complete miss, as a large strip of red leather from the Half-Devil's attire lay stuck between the razor sharp edge of Zangetsu's sword, and the colorless ground beneath it. The Zanpakuto spirit didn't stay idle long, and neither than his opponent, as several more rounds came his way, tearing away at Zangetsu's kimono.

He gritted his teeth and swung his blade upward and over, tilting his slice upward at Dante. Zangetsu grinned as satisfaction as Dante was force to stop his barrage once more to dodge, but the sword's speed was too much for him to get away unscathed.

Dante had tried to leap backwards out of Zangetsu's range, only to have the the tip leave a reminder of Zangetsu's relevance in this battle. His strike had left a cut underneath Dante's right eye that bled a narrow trail that dripped down to his crimson jacket and to the white floor of the Nexus. Such a strike brought pause to the action, allowing the instinctual beast trail his forefinger down the spine of his sword to a small stain of blood left on his sword. He dragged his finger across the small puddle and trailed it down his blade and back to his pale lips, wrapping his snow white tongue around it, savoring the first fruits of his struggle with Dante.

He chuckled and giggled, his breathing heavier now that he had a chance to breath. "There, nearly matching cuts. A sign maybe?", he mused aloud, bringing the massive sword to his front, thrusting it at Dante's chest.

[Simon]

In the sudden interim in the action, Dante's eyes fell down, glancing tho the lower left. In the next instant, he withdrew the hand carrying Ebony and, with delicate use of his fingers, felt the red wound. A similar splotch of the crimson on the ground bore witness to the fragment of himself he had lost, and the half-devil's vision returned to Zangetsu with narrowed eyes.

"Really?" Dante asked with an impossibly serious droll, lifting up the torn hem of his coat to showcase the damage. For a person with his face gashed open, the Son of Sparda seemed far more tolerant of his own pain than the wear and tear of his clothing. It merely made Zangetsu laugh further out of masochism and mockery. Dante wasn't as skilled as the zanpakuto had witnessed prior, but he proved to be quite entertaining nonetheless, somehow.

While Zangetsu made his own show of tasting the half-devil' spilled blood, meanwhile, Dante's vision subtly darted about to track his missing blade. He had neglected the fact that his abilities were neutered here, and that he couldn't simply command his thrown weapon back to him at any given moment. The larger sword had batted Rebellion off to the side, and with a mental map, Dante tried to track where the weapon would've ended up. His assessment pointed his gaze just past Zangetsu, some distance behind him, towards the fountain that formed the centerpiece of the Nexus...

There, it laid, embedded in the stone chest of an angelic creature pouring a pot of water into the pool below. The devil hunter couldn't keep up his gun-slinging act forever while Zangetsu was catching on, and his advantageous range was being cut short anyhow. Even if that weapon wouldn't turn the tide of this battle, he simply needed it back, to carry his father's keepsake upon him always-!

The hollow's sick blood-licking show ended, and he reared back to thrust his sword into the half-devil. Dante himself stepped back, leaning forward, but instead of dodging, he attempted something far more bold. As the stab came, the Son of Sparda leaped up - the tip of the blade tracing a fine cut down his vestments - and planted his gun-toting hands on the sword. With impossible ability, Dante then pushed himself well upward into the air, granting an opportunity for the inverted gunslinger to rain down a quick shower of bullets. Within the moment, Zangetsu caught on and swing his blade around to defend himself as best has he could afford, a few trace shots still piercing at him ruefully.

Dante righted himself as he came down behind the hollow, but his enemy was still faster. Zangetsu whirled around with his weapon to hack at the half-devil's back, but only caught a few stray locks of snow-white hair, the devil hunter already rolling forward to kick off into a wild sprint. Returning his malicious grin to his face, the zanpakuto pursued.

The Son of Sparda was running as fast as his human legs could take him in a mad dash for the fountain. Recalling the battle, Dante turned back to unload a few shots with Ebony at the enemy following him- but Zangetsu was already upon him. A swipe of the massive sword hacked at Dante's hand, knocking the black handgun away. The half-devil stumbled to face Zangetsu fully, to take aim and put a bullet in the hollow's head- but then the stone rim of the fountain met his legs, and Dante fell back the moment he squeezed the trigger. Time seemed to slow as Zangetsu was given the last moments needed to finish his attack: another decisive blade thrust.

The weapon bore into his torso, flush under his ribcage, and forced his body back to be pinned to the fountain's centerpiece. Ivory hung limp in Dante's hand, as his glossing eyes met Zangetsu's own wicked stare, intensified by the black fluid running down his face. He'd missed. The white pistol fell from his twitching fingers, and he desperately reached up, reaching for his blade...

The hollow withdrew his namesake sword, and with a painful, guttural choke, Dante fell into the fountain's waters, the liquid staining a dark crimson quickly.

A brief moment of silence ensued, followed with Zangetsu's dark voice, "Farewell... Dante."
He laughed; simply and softly at first, then harder, faster, until he was roaring in cries of violent delight. Thus now began his new way of life, a new pursuit for-

"HHHRRRAAAAHHH!!"

A pillar of bloodstained water exploded from the fountain's pool, sending Zangetsu reeling back in shock. The scarlet mist fell, but the being that erupted from it remained further in the air yet. Demonic reverb tainting his voice, the devil careened down to meet the zanpakuto with Rebellion in arms.

Using Tier 1 Transformation Devil Trigger until next round - 2 SP. 0/2 SP remaining

[Xehanort]

The fountain had changed once again to something more symbolic on Dante's behalf. It was an angel with broken wings, with a stream of clouded water spilling from its wound onto Dante's head, who lay limp in the crimson water. Zangetsu smile softened. In a battle of instinct the one with the better gut would be the victor.

As Dante, his guts were probably swimming among the water. The spirit had hoped to be wielded once more, but fate would prove his hopes to be false. In this world he was his own person, entirely whole. Joining with his opposition awakened the fragments of human curiosity within him. With the cost of one life, Zangetsu was able to open the door and make one for himself.

His eyes trailing off Dante's body, he turned and started to walk away, something he would regret deeply later.
The ground shook and the wind blew over Zangetsu as Dante's body changed. Clad in black armor, the new figure charged from the crumbling fountain Rebellion at the ready and coursing with energy and blood-lust.

The Zanpakuto spirit barely could turn and block the slash that dared to decapitate him. The blow managed to nearly knock him off his feet, sending him sliding a few feet backwards. Dante or whoever the hell this was calmly held rebellion at the side, wordlessly inviting Zangetsu on.

"The name's Dante, Son of Sparda"
From deep within his memories, Zangetsu caught glimpses of strange power and strength. From what he saw, Dante's father was rumored to be a being of unimaginable power. Could this be that power?

"Finally. Dante", Zangetsu chuckled as he tore the top half of his tattered robes off, tossing them aside. He revealed his lanky and thin body to be battered, bruised, and even torn in some places. His body was not durable. As a result some well placing rounds actually embedded themselves into his skin. Black, smoke-like energy flowed from these wounds. The spirit charged, wildly striking with his blade, and each slice meeting one from Rebellion without much effort on Dante's part. Zangetsu's sword had weakened seemingly, with each blow chipping and cracking at its steel. Could it be that
Dante-boy had surpassed him in strength? It would seem so, as each parry nearly tore his sword from his hands. Zangetsu could nearly feel the power flowing off of him.

It would seem Zangetsu wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer, and from how powerful that transformation was, the sword assumed when its energy ran out he'll be dry as well. Taking his own self into his hands, Zangetsu charged, pushing forward all energy he had left into one last strike. He sent his life-force covered tip to impale Dante once more, But Dante was just as fast this time. Dante and Rebellion knocked the blow away with greater force than the white spirit could muster, knocking the blade from his grasp. The blade skidded away, sliding along the smooth floor of the nexus.

Without a word nor a moment the black armored being sent a powerful kick into Zangetsu's chest, hastily grounding him with a dull thud. Zangetsu winced and looked up at Dante, his grin ever so plastered upon his face, and with good reason. This man had unlocked some power deep within himself. A power greater than Zangetsu's instinct. This man had no reason to wield Zangetsu, nor did he need to.

He held something much greater within himself.

'Dante and Rebellion... better fitting.. than I

"Finish it.. Dante.",Zangetsu urged, his body relaxing as the sharp tip of Rebellion lay only a few inches from his chest. As a spiritual being, he did not fear death. As a weapon he lie cracked, chipped, and dulled.

Round 3 over. fight ready for judgin'

[Simon]

As the demonic figure before Zangetsu was poised for the final blow, the power that sustained it was suddenly depleted, the devil giving a pained exhale with hellish reverb. In that same instant, a flash of dull crimson light consumed the black-armored demon and released the figure of Dante.

That was not to say, however, that Dante was left completely unchanged either. His expression was one of apathy, creases on his pale face giving the image that Dante with quite literally sick and tired of this. More strangely, the various wounds made on his clothing simply were no longer there; his transformation had mended his clothing, but anyone who didn't know that might suspect some higher power decided the half-devil hadn't been hit whatsoever. Of course, the dark red scar below Dante's eye remained like a paper cut to prove he was harmed.

Time seemed to hang like a broken pendulum. Dante didn't act, and Zangetsu couldn't afford to act. The wisps of black silently streamed from the zanpakuto's bullet holes with each exhausted breath, impatiently waiting for his foe to end the pain. Yet the devil hunter remained perfectly still, not even visibly breathing. What was happening in the half-devil's mind? Was he pondering how cruelly he could put down his enemy? Was he reconsidering his need of Zangetsu now?

"I think you've ruined me," Dante announced to the sword spirit, breaking the bated silence with a verbal kick. The grip on Rebellion's hilt tightened as he spoke, then loosened with a twiddle of the fingers when he stopped. He looked away wistfully, as in loss of something or someone valuable.

"Fighting and killing demons? That's my thing. That's all I'm meant to live for," Dante spat out in mocking of his own words, spreading his arms out in a "what the hell" pose, "But now, I don't feel anything, because it doesn't mean anything to me anymore! I was dying!" He was crying out in furious anguish now, pouring out his feelings to his worst enemy yet.

"And this- this world is... I thought it could be different. That I could be different. That I could renew my reason to live again." Suddenly, Dante whipped his sword back to Zangetsu's chest, the ferocity of the shift drawing a line of black on the sword spirit. "You. All that instinct you're made of? It's stuck in me, now. I thought, maybe, our little interaction had set me free, pulled me out of my depression. I actually felt alive again." It was strange to hear Dante talk like this, his voice caught between a boulder of anger and a wall of despair.

But it didn't stay that way.

The devil hunter lifted his blade, and with both hands slammed it down into Zangetsu's torso. Then again, and again, picking up speed and violence with every swing. "THIS- IS ALL- THAT'S LEFT-!" The half-devil screamed in unheard-of fury, punctuating each slash with his angry words. "TO FIGHT-! TO KILL-! TO WIN-! IT MAKES ME ABSOLUTELY CRAZY!"

For a brief moment, the Son of Sparda lapsed into Devil Trigger again, crying out in sheer anger and frustration while furiously hacking apart Zangetsu's long-dead body. Each new blow spattered a new layer of black substance in a new direction, painting a demon's display of death. But as soon as the devilish carnage began, it stopped, and so did Dante.

He finally found himself, panting and groaning, leaning on his sword planted in the gruesome black-and-white remains of the sword spirit's physical form. All too suddenly, Dante found himself to be as staggeringly exhausted as he looked. The half-devil gulped up heaps of new breath, his throat dry and hot with his anger and his body battered and bleeding from his fight. His weight slumped yet more forward, depending on Rebellion to stay up, his fatigue and abdominal pain almost overwhelming. Dante tried to swallow a meager helping of saliva, but choked and sent himself into a small coughing feat; it escalated to where he was hacking up several heaps of his scarlet blood to join Zangetsu's own.

Many moments passed like this, Dante slumped miserable over his own blade. Blood dripped from his mouth and seeped out from below his vest, but he did nothing to stop it. His eyes merely stared dead ahead, down into Zangetsu's glassy eyes and painful wicked smile. Finally, however, Dante began to make an effort, desperately pushing himself back to his full posture again. The black-coated Rebellion shifted in it's placed with it's owner's attempts to force himself up, but it managed to hold fast with its place in the ground. Soon enough, it followed in Dante's example as he pulled it free.

The devil hunter at last noted how overwhelming the silence was in his arduous pace back to the fountain. There was no wind, no other people; be barely even registered the ambiance of the water pouring from the cracked stone angel's possession into the tainted pool below. There was simply his footsteps, the clomping of boots on the pearl-colored void. Soon, the scraping of metal could be heard too, as Dante's strength to hold Rebellion faltered and he let it drag beside him.

With every second came another step, another foot closer to the center. The weakened man came up to where Ebony had been knocked over to; with a long groan of pain at aggravating his stab wound, Dante managed to kneel down and scoop up the handgun, lazily returning it to its holster. It was another ordeal to pull himself back up again, but he did it. Again he stepped, gradually further and further, until after what seemed like ages he finally reached the hem of the fountain.

Then, the pain-wracked half-devil turned and promptly collapsed. The dried, black-stained Rebellion fell aside him with a weak clatter as he slid into a sitting position against the stone wall, limp and moaning. Where Dante had traveled from his kill was marked by a dotted line of red and black, with one slightly more concentrated area where he had stopped to pick up Ebony.

Which reminded him, Ivory was still in the fountain. Probably bloody and waterlogged by now, even if Dante summoned the strength to bother caring about it. He was tired and done. Being stabbed hurt bad. Right now, he just wanted to sleep this all off.

And so he did, quickly and quietly drifting off into slumber to the ambiance of the eternal fountain.


How did you live, Vergil? Without emotion, craving power, drawing blood? What did you do? What do I do?