10-06-2015, 04:53 PM
The next piercing wail that Dante heard most definitely was not the blowing of tainted wind.
With the whipping of some cloth behind him, the Son of Sparda landed his current step, then twisted on his feet to wheel about-face. The ivory mask of a wailing soul greeted him, a cloak-like ebony miasma drifting out from the fringes of the face. In the following split-second, Dante raised his own Ebony & Ivory and the Hell Vanguard lifted an previously unseen scythe to reap the half-devil's head.
Bullets were faster than blades, however, and a pair of them were planted into the demon's eye sockets before it could execute its attack. The Hell Vanguard's vague form stumbled back from the counter-attack, clearly surprised at Dante's opening. Several more shots rang out and punched through the greater demon's ghastly black cloaking, but these seemed to faze it notably less. Finally, the Vanguard faded away entirely into a black cloud that dissipated before Dante's eyes.
He knew it was far from over, however. As the next wail sounded off behind him, the devil hunter deftly back-flipped over the charging demon, narrowly avoiding the scythe's wide slash. Another pelting of bullets followed while Dante came down to the ground, and they merely puffed and whiffed through the ghastly cloak with as much impact as before. The Vanguard turned back after Dante landed, letting out a faint shrill laughter- on cue, the glass of dimensions shattered multiple times on the ruined streets, each releasing a lesser reaper- Hell Prides, who punish those who committed sin.
The devil hunter quickly returned the firearms to his sides, with the demons already all preparing to swing at Dante. Before they could strike, however, the half-devil's gloved hand rose to Rebellion; in a single swift motion, Dante threw forward forward his body and then his arm, carrying the metallic whistle of a speeding blade. The sheer power of the maneuver was enough to destroy the Hell Pride, the force behind it scattering the dissolving demon's sands of perish into the air. Where the Pride had stood, Dante now claimed the space, returning to his upright footing with sword in hand.
Turning to the lesser reapers he had evaded, the nephilim barely hesitated in returning the fight to them, swinging his blade overhead for another strike. The first demon, he hit with a diagonal strike that sent it reeling and dripping sand; the second, he whipped with a sideswipe from Rebellion, practically bisecting the hellspawn. Dante finished them both off with twist into a spinning slash, turning the Prides into a small whirlwind of sand amid the half-devil's battle cries.
Two more Prides seized the moment and came aside Dante, one of them hacking into his shoulder with a damned scythe. The wound stung hard, but the nephilim would not let the other reaper take advantage of his injury - he swing his whole body (scythe, demon, and all) in a huge swing that shattered the second hellspawn's head. Dante didn't stop, however, twisting his back further to deliberately throw the Pride off of his back and through its companion's staggering body, obliterating them both.
Despite Dante seeming to have the upper hand, the demons did nothing to relent. The Vanguard no longer contented itself with watching and wailing maniacally, and suddenly encroached on Dante with over-sized scythe in hands. Of course, the devil hunter was quick enough to intercept the attack, but not quite forceful enough to parry it outright. Blades clashed and deflecting off one another, and Dante found himself backpedaling right back into the crowd of Hell Prides from the impact. Desperately, the nephilim battled to regain his footing, but he was too late to stop the many Hell Prides' scythes from piercing him right through.
What an anguish-filled flashback to his brother's first party invitation, surely. So many scythes run through his limbs and bones, wherever they could lock in to harm and restrict Dante. Oh, the pain roared unbearably throughout his form, yes, but what wounded Dante more was his inability to move - even to wrench himself free. No mater his brief efforts in the face of demon villainy, the Son of Sparda uncharacteristically could not find the strength to break through this lockdown.
It didn't make sense, Dante decided, as the Vanguard reared it's wailing head again with reaping tool at the ready. This was his inner world, right? A reflection of his own spirit? Why wasn't he in control!?
His anger set his devil's spirit alight, and Dante once more phased into Devil Trigger. Almost as soon as he did, however, the nephilim was as quickly torn away from it, the demonic energy leaving his body in violent pulses that set his wounds alight with agony. All around him, the Prides rattled and cackled, digging deeper and holding stronger with their weapons.
They were draining him, he realized. His Devil Trigger power was becoming theirs, and leaving him weak and vulnerable. A sitting target to the Vanguard looking to finish him off. The execution tool rose, and fell...
And so, Dante was made to atone to his sin of Pride.
With the whipping of some cloth behind him, the Son of Sparda landed his current step, then twisted on his feet to wheel about-face. The ivory mask of a wailing soul greeted him, a cloak-like ebony miasma drifting out from the fringes of the face. In the following split-second, Dante raised his own Ebony & Ivory and the Hell Vanguard lifted an previously unseen scythe to reap the half-devil's head.
Bullets were faster than blades, however, and a pair of them were planted into the demon's eye sockets before it could execute its attack. The Hell Vanguard's vague form stumbled back from the counter-attack, clearly surprised at Dante's opening. Several more shots rang out and punched through the greater demon's ghastly black cloaking, but these seemed to faze it notably less. Finally, the Vanguard faded away entirely into a black cloud that dissipated before Dante's eyes.
He knew it was far from over, however. As the next wail sounded off behind him, the devil hunter deftly back-flipped over the charging demon, narrowly avoiding the scythe's wide slash. Another pelting of bullets followed while Dante came down to the ground, and they merely puffed and whiffed through the ghastly cloak with as much impact as before. The Vanguard turned back after Dante landed, letting out a faint shrill laughter- on cue, the glass of dimensions shattered multiple times on the ruined streets, each releasing a lesser reaper- Hell Prides, who punish those who committed sin.
The devil hunter quickly returned the firearms to his sides, with the demons already all preparing to swing at Dante. Before they could strike, however, the half-devil's gloved hand rose to Rebellion; in a single swift motion, Dante threw forward forward his body and then his arm, carrying the metallic whistle of a speeding blade. The sheer power of the maneuver was enough to destroy the Hell Pride, the force behind it scattering the dissolving demon's sands of perish into the air. Where the Pride had stood, Dante now claimed the space, returning to his upright footing with sword in hand.
Turning to the lesser reapers he had evaded, the nephilim barely hesitated in returning the fight to them, swinging his blade overhead for another strike. The first demon, he hit with a diagonal strike that sent it reeling and dripping sand; the second, he whipped with a sideswipe from Rebellion, practically bisecting the hellspawn. Dante finished them both off with twist into a spinning slash, turning the Prides into a small whirlwind of sand amid the half-devil's battle cries.
Two more Prides seized the moment and came aside Dante, one of them hacking into his shoulder with a damned scythe. The wound stung hard, but the nephilim would not let the other reaper take advantage of his injury - he swing his whole body (scythe, demon, and all) in a huge swing that shattered the second hellspawn's head. Dante didn't stop, however, twisting his back further to deliberately throw the Pride off of his back and through its companion's staggering body, obliterating them both.
Despite Dante seeming to have the upper hand, the demons did nothing to relent. The Vanguard no longer contented itself with watching and wailing maniacally, and suddenly encroached on Dante with over-sized scythe in hands. Of course, the devil hunter was quick enough to intercept the attack, but not quite forceful enough to parry it outright. Blades clashed and deflecting off one another, and Dante found himself backpedaling right back into the crowd of Hell Prides from the impact. Desperately, the nephilim battled to regain his footing, but he was too late to stop the many Hell Prides' scythes from piercing him right through.
What an anguish-filled flashback to his brother's first party invitation, surely. So many scythes run through his limbs and bones, wherever they could lock in to harm and restrict Dante. Oh, the pain roared unbearably throughout his form, yes, but what wounded Dante more was his inability to move - even to wrench himself free. No mater his brief efforts in the face of demon villainy, the Son of Sparda uncharacteristically could not find the strength to break through this lockdown.
It didn't make sense, Dante decided, as the Vanguard reared it's wailing head again with reaping tool at the ready. This was his inner world, right? A reflection of his own spirit? Why wasn't he in control!?
His anger set his devil's spirit alight, and Dante once more phased into Devil Trigger. Almost as soon as he did, however, the nephilim was as quickly torn away from it, the demonic energy leaving his body in violent pulses that set his wounds alight with agony. All around him, the Prides rattled and cackled, digging deeper and holding stronger with their weapons.
They were draining him, he realized. His Devil Trigger power was becoming theirs, and leaving him weak and vulnerable. A sitting target to the Vanguard looking to finish him off. The execution tool rose, and fell...
And so, Dante was made to atone to his sin of Pride.