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Consciousness came back like drops.
He first became aware of his own sense of self. He existed. Then came his heartbeat. A dull constant thump against his chest. Slow. Steady. Present.
Next came his body. It didn't ache, but it was sore from disuse. He made an attempt to rest his limbs, slowly unfolding his curled up form.
His back. Heavy. Legs, uncoordinated. Every time he attempted to move his feet he only managed to twitch and shake his position. Uncomfortable.
Arms and hands came next. One, two, three, four, five. One, two, three, four, five. Fingers. Clumsy. Hard to use. Repeat the movement again.
Rolling onto his back too was needed. Study where he was.
Why couldn't he remember? There was something wrong…
Turning around proved a terrible challenge, taking far too long to force his muscles to cooperate to do what he asked of them. Not only that, but it also proved to be a bad idea.
His throat let out a pained grown when his wings got squished beneath his weight. He had forgotten. Stupid.
Rolling again, he managed to land a more comfortable position, wings free.
Working them was hard. They felt fragile, his control of them crude, and at the same time the appendages felt more like jelly than flesh, alien. He had grown unused to displaying them.
Unused to—
He blinked and his sight met dirty dark stone walls. Moving his head he knocked his horns (horns…) against the floor, also made out stone tiles.
His eyes hurt, dry and heavy-lidded. He had been asleep for so long…Why had he been sleeping here in the first place?
A pang of awareness came back, making his head throb dully.
He shook his head, making the effort to push himself into a crawling position.
No. No, he hadn't been asleep. It hadn't been that. Something else. Something important.
A flash of red assaulted him. Phantom pain piercing his hide, tearing his scales apart. Magic corrupting the seal—
The seal.
The barrier.
His.
Sparda grabbed at the wall closest to him, tilting to the side when he tumbled after rising too fast.
Dizziness made his vision grow black spots and he tasted acid on his tongue.
The barrier. He had been— protecting it. It had been weakening.
Mundus had tried to attack it. He had needed to check to make sure it held. Had promised Eva that—
Sparda dragged himself to the entrance of the room he could barely see, image doubling before him. He needed to— to see that he had managed.
The attack had been so close. Too close. He had managed to let the barrier stand, but—
God, how long had he been dormant? Eva would be so worried. And the children would not understand were he had gone. He had promised to let them train with their new swords when he came back.
He reached the door. Sparda wheezed, his lungs feeling constricted. Too long without use.
Shuddering, he began to walk the hall extending before him.
The Temen-ni-gru seemed to be functional. That was…that was good. The seal held.
Sparda frowned.
But there was an odd sensation about the tower. It was not supposed to be awake, and yet, the magic stirred beneath his feet, uneasy.
Exhaling, Sparda closed his eyes.
He debated for a moment.
He was terribly weakened still. He couldn't bother to call for his magic to done his human disguise, as familiar as his demon form by now.
He wanted to see Eva. He longed to hold his children again, to see them tell him about their daily adventures while Eva held his arm and gifted him with the most beautiful smile.
He missed them all. He wished to simply go home to them. To his family.
But if the Temen-ni-gru was truly compromised…If Mundus managed to bypass the barrier...
He gritted his teeth, claws scraping the wall and leaving deep grooves on the stone.
No. He would not allow that to happen.
He would check. Make sure that it was safe. That the Human World was protected still.
And then. Then he would go home again.
Hug his family close and apologize for having them wait.
Sparda took a step. And then another. He ignored the sting in his eyes, blurring his sight.
He would see them after making sure his family was safe. Just a little longer.
Sparda continued, dragging his battered body through the shadowed halls.
Navigating the tower was absolute torture.
Which on one hand, Sparda was glad. He had tried to make sure that no one would be able to enter without passing through endless challenges, making sure that the seal wouldn't break on accident, or because of an overzealous sorcerer.
On the other, in his state, he had only managed to reach one of the many, many corridors that expanded into the labyrinth inside and he had no idea how long he could continue going the wrong way.
He had seen the same statue six times already.
He leaned against the wall, trying to regain his breath.
He could remember where the seal's chamber was located, but reaching it was an entirely different beast.
The Temen-ni-gru was made to dissuade or swiftly end whoever tried to open the gates of Hell. Sparda was in no state to face all the challenges and whatever enemy might await for him like this.
He didn't even have his weapons.
Rebellion and Yamato were with the twins, theirs by right now, and Force Edge…
He winced.
It had been a desperate move during the fight, but he had managed to leave it to reinforce the magic from both sides of the veil.
But that also meant that he had no way of getting her back.
Sighing, he gave her a silent apology. No time for regrets.
He could fend off the lower and weaker demons that he could feel meandering the tower without them, but Sparda knew that this was not ideal.
Perhaps, he could go and try to get a devil arm…Agni and Rudra were protecting one of the entrances, and also Cerberus…maybe he could attempt to—
Far up above him, Sparda felt the equivalent of a volcano exploding. A supernova erupting and screaming in rage, shaking the foundations of the tower.
It reached him, clawing at his bones and nestling inside his chest, drowning out any other presence close by, making his ears ring. Sparda had the urge to curl around it, to reach for it and never let go.
Mine.
Just as fast as the wave of power came it left, the absence so sudden it left Sparda gasping for breath.
He felt his head spin, his body holding himself by sheer stubbornness and the wall behind him.
He knew that presence. Would know it in a million, blind or deaf or at the gates of death.
"Dante…" he whispered.
His little nestling. Here. Just within reach.
In the Temen-ni-gru. A stone's throw away from the seal to Hell.
Sparda nearly ate the floor when he gracelessly began to run along the halls.
There was something terribly, horribly wrong.
Something had happened.
His child was in here. His power was too great, far too big for an inexperienced little fledgling to have.
What had happened?
Sparda ran.
He barely registered the stray demons in the tower, the deadly traps trying to get him, to kill the intruder.
Sparda didn't care. He needed to see his child. His baby was here and something was wrong.
Now that he knew what to look for, he felt the spark of lively energy of his youngest, wavering and fizzling with power.
Up, up above in the tower.
Sparda cursed and didn't stop, didn't slow down in his mad race.
There was not a more important matter that seeing his child and making sure he was safe.
Sparda bled, climbing the ruined stairs that would lead him to the top of the tower.
His vision tunnelled, only the goal of reaching Dante in mind. His movements were clumsy, uncoordinated. Breathing had become a luxury he couldn't indulge in a long while ago.
He was still so far.
'Please. Pleasepleaseplease'
Just let him see him.
Images kept overlapping in his head. Terrible, cruel, terrifying.
Eva's worried gaze before he left. Vergil's serious gaze after gifting him his katana. Dante's pout when he told him he wouldn't be here to play for a while.
Hordes of demons. Blinding red eyes. Torn battlefields and screaming humans and blood, blood, blood.
The images mixed and fused and had him shoving down a desperate sob.
What had happened to his family?
Suddenly he felt the spark of power rise again.
And then it moved.
Sparda froze in place, blinking confusedly.
It kept going down, down, down.
It—
"Dante—" he wheezed out.
Of course. His youngest child could never stay too long in place could he?
Just a few more steps.
Sparda was fast. He would reach him.
There was no other option.
Sparda stretched his magic thin, running while he kept teleporting the last few levels until reaching the top.
When he was finally outside, blackened skies met him, the dim light of the night nearly blinding after so long asleep.
Sparda didn't stop. He reached for that roaring fire still falling, falling, falling.
He got to the ledge and didn't even pause, only one clear thought crossing his mind.
Sparda leapt.
The world stilled for a whole second. Too long for his taste. Too much lost time.
Gravity pulled him downwards and Sparda dived. His wings folded, letting him cut the air while he looked down.
A little tiny, wild and lively figured was falling ahead.
Sparda felt his choked throat make a strangled sound.
So close.
Just a bit more and—
A shadow fell upon the tower and Sparda felt his heart plummet to the ground, much, much earlier that him.
Leviathan appeared on the corner of his eyes.
He made an attempt to flap his wings, to reach forward and take his child and pull away. To hover and avoid what the gigantic demon would do.
He didn't have the chance.
Before he could act, Leviathan came closer and—
His child disappeared inside it's mouth.
The world seemed to freeze. A lie, because Sparda could still feel the cutting wind whistling around him.
Leviathan kept flying unworried. Another prey gone. Nothing more worth wondering about.
Sparda saw red.
Leviathan continued it's way and Sparda redirected his wings, changing his course.
With a savage roar he slammed against the demon's body, making it bend and howl in pain.
Sparda didn't bother to stop. He simply attacked, clawing the coarse skin protecting it. It didn't amount to much, but Leviathan let out a furious scream, trying to shake him off.
Sparda leapt away again, flapping his wings, and dived again, this time, going to gouge it's eyes out.
The only thought swirling around his head being to kill this thing and get back his nestling.
The world narrowed down to nothing and Sparda howled.
The fight could have lasted seconds, or days. It didn't matter.
Sparda felt the blood covering him dripping down his scales while he tore flesh, mixing the one from Leviathan's wounds with his own.
The tower shook beneath the force of the demonic whale crushing against it, but it still stood. Sparda circled it, diving and tearing into every part of it's body when he could, beating his wings to regain his balance and put distance when needed.
Right when he meant to split it's face with a savage attack, deeply missing a weapon to end this foul creature with, did Leviathan holler in pain, convulsing.
And just like that, it fell.
The whole earth quaked, and even while flying in the air, Sparda was hit by the savages gusts of wind that the demon's corpse conjured.
It threw him back, slamming him against a wall. Sparda gasped in pain, holding himself in the air only barely.
Finally, when his head stopped spinning did he register what had happened.
He turned to gaze back down at Leviathan, splayed on the ground, unmoving.
Sparda was about to fly down to check what had happened, but before he could, his eyes landed on the landscape around him, same one that he had overlooked before.
It nearly made him drop himself, confusion and horror flooding him.
"What happened here…?"
He immediately scolded himself.
The Temen-ni-gru had risen. The tower had been pulled out of it's dormant state. What did he think had happened?
Humans evolved. Villages grew. Ruins and ancient buildings got buried beneath new constructions.
What did he think would happen if one of those ancient buildings rose up again, in the middle of a city? What could it possibly be?
Sparda squeezed his eyes, and let himself to slow down the movement of his wings, lowering himself until he reached the floor.
There he stood for a moment, breathing hard. Wishing that he could have found a better solution than to simply bury the tower. Hoping that perhaps, humanity had been lucky and the people had recognized the danger before it came out.
Foolish endeavour, he knew. But Sparda had been a fool many times before, so it was hardly surprising anymore.
Finally, he felt something shift not too far from him, taking him out of his reverie.
The same fiery spark as before. So much closer.
Sparda could have sobbed in relief. He nearly gave in, actually.
But he need to see him first.
The closer he got, the more demonic presences he noticed, though they were disappearing as swiftly as they became noticeable.
That—
Sparda was not sure what to make of that.
His son's presence began to move, further away. The dark night accelerated his pace, unwilling to see him disappear again.
Minutes later he saw a horde of demons at one of the many entrances of the tower, right besides Leviathan's corpse.
In the midst of the beasts, was a human girl. That, did take Sparda by surprise.
She was cursing, seemingly angry, but she didn't— seem in danger. No more than a normal human surrounded by demons would be.
Or actually. She seemed far safer than how most humans would be surrounded by hungry demons. Perhaps even safer than some demons themselves.
Still. Sparda would be a dreadful protector of humanity if he didn't help, as much as he longed to keep running past to reach his child.
It didn't take much.
The moment he entered the sight of the demons, they all turned around, hateful gazes locked on him.
"SSSSSPAAARDAAAA!"
The demons were as creative as ever it seemed.
The next few minutes were a blur of torn limbs and bloody carnage. Had Sparda been in good health, it wouldn't have even lasted a minute.
It took longer now. Attacks that he should have dodged easily landed or only missed him by a very small margin. His own hits lacked the force necessary to down the demons with only one.
The young girl, still fighting, was of great help. She was a sharp shot, holding steady, bullets flying and landing true every time. Her double-coloured gaze held steel, and despite the confusion at his sudden appearance, she seemed to understand that he was an ally, allowing him to cover her back, while she covered his.
Good fighting instincts. It was impressive.
Finally, the battle ebbed away, the remaining demons easily disposed of.
Sparda wished to simply continue his way, as fast as he could, but that would be most unpolite.
He turned around, looking at the young lady in front of him, and met a pair of pistols pointed at his face.
Huh.
Well, she was certainly smart!
He felt a small smile quivering on his lips. The human (how old could she be? She seemed so young…) frowned slightly at him.
"Greetings, miss. I apologize for scaring you." Well. She didn't seem very scared actually, but better safe than sorry. "My name is Sparda. I promise I don't mean you harm. I am simply searching for someone."
Her frowned deepened at that, her eyes flickering to another direction while she studied him intently.
"The legendary dark knight? That Sparda?"
Ah, so she knew of him. That might make things easier, if he was lucky.
He hummed carefully, tilting his head to study her in return. There was something awfully familiar…
"Indeed. I am that Sparda." he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "You saw how those demons were…unhappy to see me."
She didn't respond.
Ah. Of course. He was in demon form, his fangs could be intimidating.
Sparda opened his mouth, ready to say something but she interrupted him before getting another word in.
"You have children."
Sparda blinked. He felt himself tense, but her red and green eyes were still boring into him, waiting.
"…I do. One of them— my youngest, I sensed him early he must have passed through here earlier have you—" he began to ramble, panic and eagerness twisting inside his chest.
"Dante. That one?" she tilted her head, eyes still steady.
Sparda sighed, relief flooding him. "Yes. Dante, my son, have you—"
She made a pointed gesture with her gun, eyes narrowing. Sparda closed his mouth.
"I saw him. He said he is going to kick your other kid's ass, who is currently planning to breaking your seal along with my father." she said sharply, the accusation in her voice clear.
Sparda felt the floor caving in. His eyes widened while he looked at her, unable to understand what she was saying.
"…Vergil is also here, doing—doing what?" he asked in barely concealed horror.
There was a show of fleeting concern on the young lady's face, before she repeated.
"He wants to break the seal."
No. No, Vergil would not—
"Where is he?" he said hoarsely.
"I'm not sure. Dante said he was going after him."
Dante was— going to fight Vergil? That would make sense, when they disagreed on something they always ended up like that, but that didn't explain anything else at all!
'Eva…'
Sparda began to make his way to the entrance before turning back.
"The seal won't be broken unless they have the necessary blood for it. Do not worry, I will stop them from trying regardless. Thank you for telling me."
She snorted, "I'm pretty sure they have your blood, and the necklaces, so—"
Sparda shook his head, "No, no. They also would need—"
He trailed off. The human in front of him raised her eyebrow, confused.
"…What's your name miss?"
"I don't have a name." she paused. "But I guess your son called me Lady." she ended with a shrug.
"Lady…and your father…he is here?"
Her eyes darkened, "Yes…Why are you asking?"
"Does he knows about the priestess?"
"Priestess?"
So she didn't know. But…
Sparda turned around. "Please, Lady, I ask you to stay away from the tower. I have a hunch about—" he shook his head.
"No way I'm staying away! My father— he is a monster. I need to take care of him"
Sparda felt his heart squeeze in sorrow. She was too young for such a heavy burden.
"If that is what you wish, dear, I will deliver him to you myself. But, please, trust me when I say that it is for all of our best interests if you stay away from the chamber."
He waited.
When there was no retort he gazed back, seeing Lady clenching her fists. Sparda opened his mouth to offer some measure of comfort but before he could she handed him the weapon strapped across her back.
Sparda looked at it in mild confusion.
"I will stay away…I suppose that you'd know better about how the seal works" she said, voice tight. "But…take this. As a message to my father. I—tell him—"
Sparda took the weapon, and hid it in his arsenal. Kneeling down a bit to be able to look her in the eye he answered .
"I promise to you, that I will make sure he won't hurt anyone else any more. I swear it."
She looked at him, her eyes glassy and slightly red from contained tears. Her voice sounded clear when she talked however.
"You are a strange demon…"
Sparda smiled at her, slightly sad at her clear sorrow.
"Indeed I am…"
Turning back, and with a last, hopefully reassuring look he went to enter the tower.
It was time to find his children.
The route to reach the seal was a mere annoyance before the fact that his children awaited him at the end.
Demons fell to his claws and fangs, their dying screams background noise. He hadn't fought as ruthlessly since his youth.
The puzzles on his way were either ignored or bypassed by brute force. He didn't have time to lose.
Sparda continued, searching for the two little presences that he now knew he would find.
(Still he couldn't help but wonder were Eva could be. Not with the twins doing something like…this)
There was Dante. He was easy to pinpoint, having already been searching for him before. Brilliant, angry, loud.
Sparda felt homesick just by the familiar feeling alone.
Then, the second one. It took more time, and a bit of extra concentration, since this one was far more subdued, hidden, than the other. But it was just as brilliant and noticeable at finding it.
Vergil. His oldest. His curious little nestling. Steady. Sharp. Sure.
And he was apparently trying to open the path to Hell.
Sparda knew that there had to be something more to it. Something missing. Something important.
Vergil had always had an impulsive streak, just like his brother. But he never did something without a reason. It reminded him so much of Eva in that way. Their endless drive and sharp mind.
He was terrified of what had even made his brilliant son come to a decision such as this.
And then of course there was Lady's father…
Sparda had millennia of experience when it came to dealing with humans. Most were good, for the most part. Some were amazing in different, varied ways.
Others reminded him of the home he had left two thousand years ago. And perhaps call it instinct, call it intuition, but whatever that man was planning in regards to having close, both his children and who he guessed was a descendant of a certain priestess he had known, it clearly was nothing good.
Sparda let out a furious rumble from his chest. No matter.
He would stop this. That was a fact.
Finally, he reached the last stretch until the chamber. Sparda slowed his space, trying to see if he could sense anything.
His children, fighting, just a small distance away.
Before he continued, Sparda's eyes locked into a dark stain on the corridor. Blood. Quite a lot, actually.
He knelt close to it, taking a look. Sparda knew that it wasn't from the twins, would have noticed if it was before even looking.
But it oozed of dark magic. Foul, disgusting, slimy demonic dark magic.
Sparda sneered.
So, this was Lady's father's? She had been right. Her father was clearly not human anymore.
The poor thing. She had been heartbroken. Perhaps she had hoped for some way to save him still.
He let out a sigh, before getting up and expanding his senses again.
Just a bit more. Dante and Vergil, furious energy clashing, bitting and vicious. They were serious. It wasn't one of their usual squabbles.
Sparda bit his cheek, still searching, forcing himself to concentrate.
A bit more. Close, close. Just—
There.
Foul. Disgusting. Cruel.
Just a few paces away from his children, ready to leap.
Over Sparda's body.
In a flash he was in front of the doors, pushing them away, stone cracking at the sudden force.
The twins turned in unison, swords at the ready, battle put to the side for but a moment.
Sparda didn't need a moment.
His eyes locked onto the hidden figure, staring in disbelief at him, and he growled.
"You."
It tried to flee. But Sparda may be weakened. He was not invalid.
He came down from it's place with a swipe of his claws. Crawling away from him, staring in amazement and horror.
"You—but you were gone. You disappeared—" began to ramble the sorcerer.
Sparda growled.
"How dare you try to unmake my work? Using my children, your daughter to—what?"
The man—demon sneered.
"I wasn't the only one who wanted power. I only did what I had to."
Sparda felt his anger spike. Disgust and anger swirled inside him.
"Then I hope you've made your peace. Your daughter wishes to say goodbye. Though it is undeserved."
In a moment, he had the weapon he had been lent in his hands, the bazooka small between his claws, despite it's size.
He saw the other widen his eyes, opening his mouth to say something else.
Sparda used the blade to avoid the headache, faster than the eye could follow.
It fell down, sliding softly before it fell, the body slumped to the side, graceless.
He would need to convince the poor child to let him take care of the body. She didn't deserve to have to see this. Sparda had been a bit ruthless with this kill, even if it was deserved.
The chamber was quiet. As if time had been paused.
And just like that, it resumed.
He felt the two pointed blades at his back before even turning around.
"Who are you?" "What the fuck, dude?"
Sparda felt his eyes watering. Turning around, he finally, finally saw them. Both of them.
It was as if someone punched the breath out of his lungs.
They were so much older.
"Children…" he breathed out, barely managing to stop from throwing himself at them, getting impaled by either of their weapons unimportant.
Vergil had a harsh look on his eyes. His face was stoic, stance rigid and at the ready, distrust colouring all of him. A predator poised to strike.
Dante was—not wearing a shirt, first of all. Sparda felt his arms twitch. He should be wearing a shirt at least. But of course he was wearing a coat. Of course.
It would have been funny if not for his face. Angry. Distrustful too, but there was something more there. Hate. His stance was far more loose, careless at first impression, but Sparda could see the edge of danger. One wrong move and Rebellion would have his head.
He looked between them again and again, drinking in the sight, unable to speak, while they kept their stare, their one-sided stand-off.
They had been six— perhaps even seven when he had last seen them both. They had barely even reached his hip.
Sparda felt his strength waver.
He had been gone for so long…
Vergil pushed Yamato closer baring his teeth, "I'll ask again. Who. Are you?"
They shifted slightly, Dante and Vergil both standing together now, waiting for him to do something and respond together, instead of the simple pause to their argument like before.
Even angry at each other they had never been able to stop worrying about the other if something else came up.
"Hey, man, we asked you a question. So unless you want to end up like baldy over there, why don't you answer, huh?" Despite the light tone, Dante's eyes held a threat. Promise of danger.
Sparda had missed too much. But not anymore.
Before they could react he reached for them, pulling them to his arms, making them yelp and struggle trying to free themselves.
Rebellion and Yamato both vanished, content purrs resonating in his mind. They at least, seemed happy to see him.
The twins kept twisting in his arms. Sparda felt a punch to his stomach, far more painful than any normal human's. There was also a bite to his arm, where he felt his plates groan under the pressure.
He chuckled wetly, hugging them close. He curled his arms around them too, keeping them from escaping by snaking away beneath or above his arms, like they had done as children.
"I suppose it makes sense for you to not really remember. You were so little when I saw you last…" he said, salty tears finally slipping out.
He felt them both still at that. Sparda buried his head in their hair, feeling the demonic essence filled with the human blood that made up his children.
He let out a mournful purr, rubbing their heads together.
His beautiful, perfect children.
"…Father…?"
He squeezed them close at Vergil's quiet question, the waver in his voice hard to miss.
"Yes, children. It's me. It's me."
'You are okay' He wanted to say. 'You are both safe. I'll protect you'
But that was for nought, wasn't it? Sparda may not know what had happened to them while he was gone but—
For them to end like this— it could not be pleasant.
Dante still had not said anything, laying limp in his arms, so unlike he had been when he was younger. Had it not been for the fact that he had just seen him perfectly fine, he would have worried if he was truly here.
He let out a quiet whine, nuzzling his younger son.
There wasn't any answer.
Right before Sparda could open his mouth to speak to him, he felt him curl, nails scrapping at his armour plates a low sound barely able to be heard.
Sparda held them both as close as possible. Dante was currently scrapping at his armour something angry and desperate, but he didn't pull away. Vergil was laying there quietly, but he had grabbed in a steadfast manner his arm and wasn't letting go any soon.
Sparda held his children while they cried against his chest.
Later. Later he would ask what had happened. What he had failed at doing when he had been gone.
But for now he held his children, and that was enough.