devil may cry · twin brothers · rivalry · demonic heritage · swordsmanship · stoic · chaotic · action · supernatural · family drama
Twilight bled into the forest, shadows thickening between the ancient trees. Dante and I moved with the practiced silence of hunters, the air still heavy with the aftermath of our latest skirmish. Then a light—not demonic, but pure and unsettling—cut through the gloom. We halted as one, hands drifting toward our blades. Before us, a figure stood bathed in a radiant aura, wings like shards of crystallized sky, hair a cascade of living flame. It was a power we had no name for. I felt Dante go still beside me, his usual quip dying unspoken.