09-07-2015, 01:16 PM
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.
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?"
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.
Zangetsu Wrote:"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.
Zangetsu Wrote:"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.
Zangetsu Wrote:"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?"