Chapter Text
Fortuna carried a certain strange warmth within the european goth buildings and its unparalleled charm at the same time it held an malicious, dangerous energy, something indicated it was the high demon activity in the island along the whispers and murmurs carried by the wind of the inhabitants and the faithful, not even a foreigner would go unnoticed by the curious citizens always alert to anything that came from outside their piece of land. A few people already knew about the new visitor thanks to rumors that traveled fast enough door to door. It was about a way too tall fellow to not be seen, seemed to be a proud man despite his bowed head in a failed attempt to blend in with the others, wearing a beige cloak so long that his blue coat could almost go unnoticed. Almost.
Some glances were merely expressions of genuine curiosity, perhaps an interest in everything that was unknown and came from outside of the walls of Fortuna. It was then that a lady in red saw him, simply observing as he vanished from her sight too quickly to ask for a name.
…
Fortuna hid secrets beneath its sacred veil which could not be revealed solely through word of mouth outside the island.
Destiny, the need for power and a curiosity that behaved like an incessant thirst lead the young demon prince to a piece of land that deliberately cut their territory surrounded by hills and walls from the rest of the civilization, a place where they practically lived in their own little world, a world full of demons and wonders, faith and adoration for a demon, Sparda. The young man longed to follow in his father's footsteps, or to place it properly, he wanted to take even greater strides. If that was the place where Sparda once resided, his history should be recorded in the silence of local libraries in the dusty shelves and cracked in the walls of great halls of the theaters he frequented.
Dissecting libraries turned into a recurrent activity on Vergil's agenda every time he visited a new place, to bustling capitals to small villages frozen in time, their books would be of interest to him, even those that weren't about demonology. In his free hours and the “time to spend with trivial things” to put it simply, he'd like to get lost in good poetry like the old Vergild would’ve. Nothing could be quite like the great Fortuna library, it was undeniable that the place held the biggest collection of knowledge about the underworld and Sparda himself. Demons from A to Z, it would be tragic if the library found its pages yellowed with age ablaze, it would be equivalent to losing a part of the history of the underworld.
Vergil wasn't the type of devil hunter that did it because someone had to, much less to protect humans. No thanks, he was not a hunter available for hire. Sometimes, new weapons could be gathered from defeating a demon, the so called devil arms, though Vergil was more than loyal to the sword he was gifted and that saved his life, the Yamato. Devil arms didn't interest him, he would usually sell them away because still needed the money as much as he'd like to admit. The only possible thing that's left that catches his eye could only be the treasures, a few creatures serve the only purpose of being the guardians of some kind of demonic artifact or a relic and this could be more useful for him.
On a recent successful hunt as usual, Vergil was able to get his hands on an ancient book, one that emanated almost forbidden knowledge about something powerful, there was an engraving of an intimidating tower on the cover, but everything was written in an unknown language, unfamiliar symbols, pages and pages of spells, myths, and rituals. For someone like him it was a headache to admit he didn't hold the absolute knowledge of all the things in the world, it was frustrating. Such a big inconvenience to seek help from third parties, they didn't always cooperate in the way he thought they should.
Dealing with human beings was so inopportune.
There was an old man in town who seemed trustworthy when it came to unfamiliar languages, given that he traveled overseas often and that made him fluent in different languages. In any case, the old man traveled all the time so that he wasn't present in the given moment. However, Vergil was told he could contact the man's daughter for more information regarding his whereabouts, yet he was clueless about who that could be. If he was as old as they said, his daughter must have been in her early thirties by now.
It was merely a hardened impression that the citizens did nothing but go to church, there were always artistic events taking place in there, such as music performances at the opera house, the ballroom dancing, theatrical plays, besides all the libraries and museums which were quite rich in information and art, and of course there were the weekly fairs that served as a local market for handcrafted goods. There was no way to excuse it that there was nothing to be done in Fortuna.
It was hot inside the opera house, a sea of hooded people occupied most of the good available seats, Vergil’s only option was to stand in a dark corner of the room yet he wasn't inclined to sit with the others as if he were there as a resident relaxing at the end of the day, though this time he exchanged his usual silent reading session of poems for a short visit to the opera house. The hall was swallowed by atmospheric darkness, people were still whispering and chatting until the lights lit up the central stage, more specifically a young woman in a red dress sitting next to a harp. There was nothing exceptional about her attire if that's what you were expecting from a presentation in a hall, it was the standard red dress that many other women could be seen wearing inside those walls, it seemed to be particularly the dress code for the young ladies along with a white hood, which also covered her face in a way that left only her nose, lips and chin visible, for some people the absence of eyes was a little frightening. However, it wasn't important to Vergil.
The music of the harp filled the hall with delicacy, her slender fingers plucking the strings with precision and a vehemence that bore respect for the instrument. The scene carried an angelic, ethereal context through the sound and the hands, the music penetrated your ears almost hypnotically, hypnotically, hypnotically... Thanks to the spotlight, a large shadow was cast behind the harp player, Vergil's brow furrowed at the present inconvenience. It didn't happen often, but sometimes especially under the moonlight or during a twilight, his shadow revealed the other half of his ambiguous existence, the shape of a demon. That shadow on the stage wasn't that of an ordinary human, rather that of a devil. The music seemed to send everyone present in the hall into a tempting and sickly sweet spiral that the creature was casting through that woman's music. It was clearly a case of demonic possession and not a demon disguising itself as a human.
Whatever came next or whatever that creature wanted was none of Vergil's business.
If it wanted to feed from their vital energy? Sure, not his problem.
He was already turning his back to the exit, leaving enough room for the other demon to look in his direction with a mocking interested smile spreading across the possessed girl’s face alongside an infuriating defiance because it knew that this was Sparda’s blood, and it wanted his strength. Annoyed by the insolence of who thought that could defeat a demon prince, a glowing blue summoned sword cut through the air in the darkness hitting the spotlight squarely causing it to malfunction with a small explosion, followed by others that brought the same fate to all the spotlights. People gasped in the pitch black room without understanding what happened to the lights or to the music, unbothered Vergil's keen eyes easily guided him through the hall until a demonic laugh filled the walls of the opera house like a haunted song, the lights flickered as the public rose from their seats, frightened they were all bumping into the tall man in blue who was none other than a nuisance for those who feared the appearance of a creature from the underworld, while others cowered or tried to hide.
“Spardaaaa.” The demon's voice was a chant of agony, beautiful but cursed. The shadow moved across the hall in an attempted attack.
Unconcerned, Vergil drew his sword from beneath his cloak, “What an onerous, weak and foolish lower demon.”
That thing couldn't even tell the difference between whether Vergil was Sparda itself or not, and he felt somewhat offended by such ignorance.
In the bat of an eye the entity's shadow had been cut by the Yamato's sharp blade as Vergil slashes through the hall at a disconcerting speed, to someone as strong as him that was in fact just a weakling who could be defeated like child's play, the demon's body revealed its true form now lifeless on the ground. On the stage, the lady in red limbs weakened as her body was free from the possession, a relief that was short-lived, followed by a loud thud that echoed on the wooden floor as she fell before Vergil’s eyes like an apple falling from the tree. He hadn't saved her because of sympathy, he didn't even know her name or who she could possibly be, the truth is that he didn't care about the whole situation even knowing it could be (and it was) handled easily with a single strike of his katana.
What bothered Vergil to the bone was the fact that such a weak and low-level demon dared to mock him.
“Uugghhh…” the young woman grumbled in pain on the ground, falling like that right after being possessed was not easy at all, all she could see was a blue blur in front of her staring down so indifferently it could hurt if he was someone known to her, the hood slid backwards enough to show the genuine confusion in her eyes, “who… where…” but he was turning away again and quickening his pace with a certain discretion when the knights of the Order of the Sword imposed their presence even though it was already too late for a fight, the demon was already dead.
He had already become too involved in that story which meant nothing to him but a waste of time, uninterested in getting asked about the recent events and how he killed that thing or to ask if the girl was feeling alright, Vergil disappeared quietly into the night leaving the opera house and many unanswered questions behind.