Disclaimer: The following is the work of a fanfiction. Devil May Cry and Kuroinu: Kedakaki Seijo wa Hakudaku ni Somaru are owned by their respective creators and are used for the sake of imagination through storytelling. I do not own either one.


Vergil sat back on a nearby stump, his blue eyes gazing up at the full moon above the star-filled horizon.

Sweat drenched his form, slight pants emitting from him as he leaned hands forward on the sheathed Yamato. Countless time of training he had done throughout his time in the forest. Various cuts made upon the bark of trees around him, the swordsman worked on improving his precision.

Still, what was this feeling that he was missing something?

Having to revert back at a younger age caused dissipation to his current skills. He couldn't even find himself to achieve his deadly Devil Trigger if he so desired. Such power he once had… All whisked away when entering this new world.

Vergil gritted his teeth, anger boiling inside him as he slammed the sheathed katana to the ground, the golden end stabbing into the grassy earth that caused a light quake around it. The frustration present on the son of Sparda as he scratched at his slicked hair, causing a mess to ensue to his silver strands.

"Must I have to be so weak once more!?" Vergil cursed under his breath. "Without power, I-..."

Vergil widened his eyes at his words, a silence falling from him before he collected himself as calmly as possible. Deep breaths in and out, his hands sliding back on his roughened hair to its slicked perfection.

What was he doing? Getting angry at the thought of his loss? If he were to be going back to insanity, it would only lead to a downfall that may result in a permanent end.

His brother showed him that…. Along with his son…

"You feeling accepting yet?" Nero's voice echoed in the swordsman's mind.

"Of your existence? Or your strength?"

"Both, you fuckin' asshole!"

Vergil chuckled, the battle certainly having the man acknowledged that his own flesh and blood attained power that seem equal to his own. Nero's drive to become stronger wasn't for just attaining strength but for the sake of the ones he cared about. Even having to go between Vergil himself and Dante to end their violent quarrel.

"Heh… I'll definitely be the victor next time." Vergil said to himself, sliding off the stump and lying back onto the lustrous grass below. He deserved a bit of a break after countless hours of training.

He gazed up high at the star-filled sky, seconds passing as his eyelids grew heavy, drifting him away to sleep.

Vergil's fist collided against the last thief's skull, an instant knockout on the sorry whelp as he fell straight to the ground. The silver-haired swordsman clicked his tongue in annoyance, narrowed eyes down to the group of thieves that attempted to take whatever valuable he had on him. Such annoyance having to deal with this.

A mere two days of random encounters with either thieves, orcs, goblins or anything lethal throughout his travels in the vast forest was detrimental to Vergil's attitude. He couldn't stay within the wilderness any longer.

Some modern shelter shall do him nicely.

Vergil went to work on pickpocketing whatever the fallen ruffians had, the swordsman surprised to see they had a good amount of currency to take. A consequence done good for their pitiful attempt.

Shoving in the pouches of gold into his backpack, Vergil strapped it firmly on his back whilst the Yamato was tied to his hip. Off he went, wandering off out from the wilderness that was once his training ground. The sun shone brightly above, the swordsman stepping his sandal covered feet to the dirt road.

As fate would have it, Vergil picked up the sounds of clopping several feet away behind him, opting him to crane his head.

Nearby, a man rode on a wooden wagon, bags laid out on the cart whilst two horses towed it along. Vergil was quick to approach waving the man down to stop. Luckily, the driver halted before the son of Sparda.

"Hail, stranger!" The man said, offering a friendly smile.

"Hail, good sir," Vergil nodded his head. "Would you know of the nearest town from here?"

"Of course!" The driver answered, nodding. "A three miles here's the city of Ansur. I was actually heading there to sell some of my goods."

"Perfect." Vergil was quick to reach behind his backpack, getting out one of the pouches of gold before throwing it over to the surprised man. "I'll need to head there."

The driver untied the string of the pouch, gasping at the amount of gold coins there were. "S-Sir, this is a bit much for a single ride there!" He said, turning his head to the silver-haired stranger already seated at the back of the cart.

Vergil shot a glance his way, waving his hand. "Keep it. Just take me where I want to be."

The driver, still uneasy of taking such a hefty quantity, bided his pay, turning his head forward and lashing the reins. "You're quite the generous man, stranger…"

Vergil could only chuckle at that.

'Generosity? Well, that's a new one.'

"So, this is Ansur." Vergil thought aloud as he took in his new surroundings.

The city of Ansur was bustling, many people compared to the relatively small village of Auron. Many people were on their own business of walking from place to place, talking to each other, shopping in the local markets; the usual civilians fit for a large town.

Such life flourishes carelessly than the town of Fortuna.

Vergil wandered, his clothes fit to blend in with the crowd despite the inconsistencies involving his silver slicked hair and blade at his hip. Still, people didn't seem to mind as much with the traveler taking in the sights.

Vergil halted his tracks, his eyes going towards the billboard of a painted crow with Xs over its eyes along with the title of the establishment plastered above it.

Drunken Crow.

A bar that was no doubt filled with many patrons getting their fill for an easy price. Vergil could hear the laughter and drunken chatter inside, his eyes watching their actions through the glass windows.


And of course, he hadn't had a decent bite to eat in a good while. Seeing no harm as to invite himself in, Vergil made his way inside.

A lively atmosphere it was, many customers enjoying their time munching their food while downing their ales along with workers attending to whatever they needed. Vergil found that most of them adorn armor, weapons against their stools as they've chatter away about the jobs they've taken. A tavern filled with warriors it would seem.

Vergil headed to the counter of the bar, seating himself onto it before placing his bag underneath him. Folded hands together as he awaited for a worker to serve him, his eyes closed.

"So, ya hear that the war might come to an end?" A voice chimed up, Vergil had no choice but to listen.

"Aye, I did. Them Black Dogs out stormin' the Dark Fortress. Fuckin' suicide if ya ask me." Another voice came, tone nonchalant.

"Apparently, Lady Lucross sent out this guy along with them. Didn't have the Black Dog symbol on him."

"Just a random fool off to his death, then?" A gravelly voice asked.

"I mean I wouldn't say so. When they marched outta the castle, the guy seemed to be the real deal. That nasty lookin' sword he got on his back looks like it could do heavy damage."

'A disturbing sword…' Vergil eyes opened, half lidded they were as he focused on the conversation.

"Plus outta everybody in the Black Dogs, he stuck out like a sore thumb! Red coat plus that silver hair and that smile... Don't look to be afraid of death coming to him."

The corner of Vergil's lips curved, a smirk falling on his monotone expression. 'Dear little brother is here, after all. Good.'

"Sir? Dear sir, are you ready to order?"

Vergil looked up, a beauty of a woman behind the counter had caught his attention.

Her complexion smooth and tanned, her dark hair long and styled into a braid. Her attire was the color of lavender that hugged against her endowed figure, particularly her top and arms from what Vergil gathered from her upper frame. What was noticeable were her long pointed ears she had that twitched ever so lightly. Her amethyst hues looked to the swordsman, a smile gracing her lips.

The woman giggled. "Seems like you were off in a little daze. Need a bit more time?"

Vergil shook his head. "Sorry, I was merely distracted." The son of Sparda bowed his head.

"Heh, no need!" The dark elf assured. "Have to say that I've never had a man so polite in my little pub, before. And quite a handsome devil at that."

Vergil couldn't help but chuckle. "Your words are too kind for me, miss. What may be your recommendations?"

"Well, usually a mug of ale and steak is what any patron goes for. Perfect breakfast wouldn't you say? All for a good price of a silver."

Vergil reached down to his bag, picking up a pouch of coins and taking out a single gold, placing it onto the table. The woman's eyes were wide, her surprise akin to the driver that guided Vergil to Ansur. "This is enough?" He asked, now thinking that the gold coins were immensely valuable.

"Um… quite so." The woman remarked. "Allow me to get some change for thi-."

"No need. Consider it an advance from your new patron." Vergil interrupted, a small smile directed to the dark elf.

The woman blinked some before returning the smile, nodding as she took the gold coin. "I'll make sure to have this dish the best that the Drunken Crow can provide." She excused herself, making haste on the order.

Vergil gave a content sigh, rolling his shoulders some as he came to finally relax.

Beats being ambushed in the wild, any day.

The son of Sparda felt fulfilled in terms of his stomach. A nice mug of alcohol to place his mind at ease as well as a medium-rare steak seared in butter and garlic. Such is well deserved for the silver-haired swordsman.

Vergil found himself at the library, the many shelves filled with aged books ranging from history, economics, fictional tales… A good source for him to gather information of this unknown dimension. He slid off a book from the historical section from its origin, walking himself over to a table for a read.

"'The Thousand-Year War'." Vergil gazed at the title of the tome, golden capitalized letters emboldened on the leathery cover.

Opening up to the first page, Vergil started his research.

Minutes passed by, morphing into hours as Vergil engraved his mind with whatever suitable knowledge was deemed worthy for him. From his time of understanding, he learned of how the country came to be, Eostia it was called, along with how it was plunged into an elongated conflict with the forces of darkness.

A flourishing land, brought up by generations upon generations of royals seeking to prosper a country along with its allies of magic and weaponry. Seven nations unified, combining efforts together under the Goddess Incarnate, Celestine Lucross due to her premonition of a war coming to the land, seeking to wrought its devastation throughout. An accursed insanity of clashes that had many soldiers and people dying while their next of kin picked up what they've started.

Vergil felt as if he was reading some sort of fantasy-filled epic though considering his supernatural background, it was viable enough to be a reality.

The swordsman's eyes blinked, noticing the only shred of lights were the candles lit around the vast library, while the glass ceiling above showcased a blanket of dusk. Seems his rapt of studying had him lost track of time. Vergil stood from the desk, strapping back on his backpack and katana, returning the book back to its place.

'The Yamato has placed us into this war-torn world and with what that patron said, Dante would be at the front of it.' Vergil gave a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Knowing that idiot, he wouldn't turn down a fight as long as it serves him some cheap entertainment. Typical, little brother.'

Vergil walked down the creaking, wooden stairs, his mind still wrapped on an unfulfilled curiosity. Why had he turned back to this reduced state of being? A strong, youthful body yes, but so unfulfilled with his current skills.

Something… or perhaps someone may be the root of this cause. Vergil's eyes hardened, determination shown through his complexion. The brothers were here, separated but searchable.

And once they were together, Vergil vowed to find the bastard that caused the loss of their power.

Grace Campbell gave out an exhausted sigh, bone tired from all the work done for the day and night. The dark elf woman stretched her arms out, a small yawn came to be as she locked up the door of her welcoming bar. The usual amount of boisterous patrons caused exhaustion for herself and her few workers, but nonetheless she was happy and comfortable with the simple lifestyle.

Paid a good silver or two!

She couldn't help it, but her mind remained on the silver-haired stranger that came in the late afternoon. Such dashing looks for a man in average clothing and was generous as to give her a gold coin. Not many were willing to pay such a hefty amount for a girl like her. Always the cheap pickups or leering she picked up by many men who wish to bed her. A nice change of pace when a single man didn't look at her in such a lurid manner.

"Evenin', dear Grace!"

Grace's ears twitched as she turned to the voice, soon seeing a trio of men, all wearing shabby armor strolling towards her. Their breaths filled with the stench of alcohol, causing the dark elf to scrunch her nose a bit whilst narrowing her amethyst eyes. That wasn't the only case that disgusted her by the three drunkards.

All wore such depraved smirks directed towards her.

"Say now, a gal like yourself can't be all alone in the dead of this night," the leading man, his head shaven and bald stated as he inched himself closer to Grace, two of his cohorts following by.

Grace backed herself away, only to be cornered at the locked wooden door from behind. She displayed a faux smile, her hand sneaking to the back of her sarong for the dagger she carried. The dark elf never thought to resort to any violence after such a work-filled day.

"Why won't ya let the three of us take ya home… Hell, you might need to repay us for our 'services'." The leader said with a dark chuckle, his hand reaching out towards Grace. She braced herself, her hand clenched tightly on the knife's handle.

A foreign voice came forth, a sigh heard as it spoke. "Am I cursed to witness pathetic annoyances for the rest of my life?"

All redirected their attention to the source, Grace sensing familiarity with the silver-haired stranger that approached the four. His face conveying disappointment and irritation at the drunken trio hindering the dark elf's retreat.

The bald-headed ruffian scowled at the silver-haired man, walking up to him, eyes shooting daggers at him. "Ya see that we're busy here? How 'bout ya get lost!"

The stranger only stooped up to his level, his blue irises showing a quiet fury at the shaved bastard. The said man's glare dumbed down, anxiety overwhelming him as that intense glower burned into him and his foot slowly taking a step back.

By the gods, it was if he was being stared down by a ferocious beast!

The leader took a glance at his men; the two sharing their fear with him, sweat filling their brows. Attempting to pitifully maintain his facade, the man grunted before gesturing his head to the side. "L-Let's get outta here… ain't worth it…"

The trio then scurried off, not wishing to invoke any wrath from the silver-haired man could carry out if they'd stay any longer.

Vergil watched as the three ran off, scoffing. Dogs running away with their tails between their legs. Weaklings.

"Um…" Vergil regarded the dark elf woman as she spoke, her face looking a bit astonished of how he easily scared off the ruffians.

"No need for thanks," Vergil said, fixing the strap of his backpack, "nothing short of a simple problem."

The dark elf blinked before slightly chuckling, a hand covered her mouth. "My, not only the man I've met today is generous but brave and modest? Certainly, a diamond in the rough."

Vergil only smirked, shaking his head. "Such a flatterer. Still, best be home before any other undesirable fill the streets." Vergil then turned heel, starting to walk off to whatever was vacant for him.

"Wait!" The son of Sparda paused midstep, his head turned over to the pub owner calling out to him. "You seriously didn't expect me to just have you walk off without a reward, could you?"

Vergil faced her fully, a brow quirked. "I wasn't expecting it, that's for sure."

The knife-eared woman placed hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. "From how filthy your clothes are, you need somewhere to at least freshen up and properly rest." She then gave a bright smile. "How about staying over at my home?"

Vergil looked down at his attire. She was right… his whole tunic and pants were utterly tarnished by dirt and stains. Still, he felt a bit of apprehension on taking such an offer.

"I wouldn't wish to be a mere inconvenience. After all, a vagrant such as myse-."

Vergil was silenced by the open palm held up by the woman. "I won't take no for an answer! Besides, the least I could do for all that you've done."

Vergil was utterly dumbfounded. Were women this stubborn on pushing their intent like this? Well… Now that he thought about it…


A sigh escaped from the swordsman, his hand going over his slicked scalp. Vergil conceded. "If that's what you wish, I can't bring myself to deny."

"Fantastic!" The bronze-skinned woman began walking, Vergil following to her side with his belongings close to him.

The bar owner hummed, placing a finger on her chin. "I've never really gotten your name the first time around, did I? Well, my name is Grace. Grace Campbell. And you are, good sir?"

"Gilver." Vergil used his alias once again, regarding his newfound companion a small smile. "You may call me Gilver."

Present day...

"So this is my new digs, huh?"

Dante looked about his new place to stay; a large royal bedroom within the castle of Ken. A king sized bed fit for a worthy noble with a glass ridden chandelier overhead. A wooden table with a quil and inkpot, sat near the windows, for any studying or work to be had along with a hefty dresser nearby. And to finish off such a sweet place, a bathroom for him to clean up and look suave!

"Definitely beats my shop by the millions." The devil hunter said with a small snicker, the steps of his boots were audible on the marble stone floor as he located himself right on over to the table, sitting back on it.

"Seems like you're enjoying your status already."

Dante saw the familiar blonde dark elf at the doorway, her shoulder leaning against the frame, arms crossed. Chloe sported a blank slate, attention focusing on the lounging devil hunter fiddling around with the quil.

"If this new war comes to an end , they may have our heads." Chloe contemplated, already dreading of the possibility of an execution delivered to her and her beloved queen. "We're prisoners that lost our home and are forced to go against creatures that once allied with us. What do you suppose..?"

Dante simply continued on his fiddling, performing tricks with the quil with his fingertips. He seemed to be annoying the elf rogue who was now irked by his lackadaisical attitude.

"Are you even listening?" The blonde dark elf inquired through gritted teeth.

"Yeeeeah, I don't take well to chicks shoving a knife to my head." Dante snidely answered as he placed away the writing tool.

Chloe merely scoffed at his remark. "Just a mere scratch for you, anyway. But… Still, I fear the worst may come to myself and Lady Olga whether we achieve victory or not."

A small silence occurred, Dante shoving himself off the table before sighing. "Man, you're way too gloomy. Why think of the future when we have stuff to do, now?"

Chloe, swayed from her depressing thoughts, gave a curious look to the silver-haired hunter. "You do realize if-."

"Blah, blah, blah." Dante disregarded with a wave of his gloved hand. "Listen, right now we got a war that needs a settling which involves a lot of asses to be kicked."

Chloe huffed some at his simple way of thinking. How can such a man as this be blessed with such extraordinary abilities she would never know. Yet, this crimson clad warrior was the best option they'd had for the oncoming days.

And then there was something she'd never thought to hear from a human.

"Right now, I got two jobs to do. One, end the war. Two…" He pointed at the blonde elf, a grin plastered on his face. "Making sure you and Olga stay alive as possible, even after this war."

Chloe's eyes widened in shock, her mouth agape at Dante who simply snickered.

"And trust me… I'm not a guy who finishes a job half-assed."

The sons of Sparda take in their new world. One attains knowledge and gains an unlikely ally, the other promising to save two lives from any danger.

Their paths will cross near the future… and together will face the many threats wishing devastation on Eostia.

Heya, heya.

Been a long time since I've done this, haven't I? Apologies for my many months off here. Times sure are rough and I've been mainly focused on bettering myself physically and mentally throughout. Thank you all who still wish for this story to go on and have the patience for me to whip out a chapter for you all to enjoy.

Hopefully I'll make things even more interesting for the later chapters. After all, this is Devil May Cry we are talking about here. Anyways, thank you again for following this fic.