Shaw Industries Underground Hangar – Salem
Smoke and ash still clung to the air, curling through what was left of the hangar. The molten skeleton of the Sentinel hissed like a dying furnace, cooling in the dim light.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Dante stood with Rebellion drawn, staring across the wreckage at the man who had just walked out of Hell.
Silver hair. Calm eyes. The same stance—cold, precise, deliberate.
He didn't need to ask.
Vergil.
The name hung in Dante's mind like an old scar reopening.
The others looked between them—X-Men, monster hunters, mutants—each trying to piece together what they were seeing.
Felicia tilted her head. "Wait… you two are—"
"Brothers," Elsa finished, lowering her gun. "Oh, bloody hell."
Vergil said nothing. He turned the shard in his hand—black-red crystal from the Force Edge, wrapped in veins of Hellfire. The light from it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Dante's eyes followed it. He could feel the demonic pressure rolling off the thing—raw and unstable.
"Vergil," he said, voice steady. "That shard—hand it over."
Vergil didn't even look up. "No."
Dante's jaw tightened. "Not asking twice, bro. That thing's bleeding Hellfire. You keep holding it, it's gonna eat through your arm."
Vergil finally glanced at him, expression unreadable. "Then let it."
The tension hit like a blade drawn from a sheath.
Felicia whispered to Elsa, "Is this… normal sibling behavior for them?"
Elsa didn't answer.
Wolverine stepped forward, claws out, impatience written all over him.
"Alright, enough of this family drama. I don't care if you're brothers or not, bub. Hand over the rock before I—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Vergil exhaled softly, eyes cold as glass.
"Scum."
There was a flash of blue steel.
Yamato moved faster than anyone could track.
For a heartbeat, everything went still—then Wolverine's body hit the ground, sliding across the molten floor with a metallic screech.
He pushed himself up, growling, claws extended. "That all you got?"
Then he froze.
Pain flared deep in his chest. He looked down—and his healing factor stalled for a split second.
The slash across his torso was perfectly clean, smoking faintly with blue light. Beneath the torn flesh, the exposed adamantium bones gleamed… split straight through.
Even Wolverine's eyes widened. "What the hell…"
The sight of Wolverine's bones being split shocked the X-Men.
Cyclops whispered, "Did he just—cut adamantium?"
Jean's voice was low, almost disbelief. "That's… impossible."
Elsa muttered under her breath, "He didn't just cut it. He humiliated him."
Dante sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Guess the vocabulary didn't grow much down there."
Vergil turned toward him, voice calm and measured.
"I didn't come here to talk."
Dante's smirk returned, faint but sharp. "Could've fooled me. It's been nine years, and you finally show up—no call, no letter, not even a birthday card?"
Vergil's expression didn't change. "Still clinging to sentiment."
"And you're still allergic to fun," Dante shot back.
Vergil slid Yamato back into its sheath with a soft click, as if nothing had happened. Wolverine was already standing again, chest wound closing, but the look in his eyes said it all—he'd never been cut like that before.
Around them, the others reacted on instinct.
Cyclops raised his hand to his visor. Storm's eyes glowed white. Elsa switched to her melee weapons. Felicia crouched low, claws shimmering with Hellfire. Even Jean's telekinetic field rippled faintly around her like a second skin.
Illyana, eyes wide, tried to stand, but Dante reached out and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
Then Dante stepped forward, Rebellion lowering slightly, his tone suddenly calm—but sharp enough to cut through the noise.
"Stand down."
No one moved.
Jean glared at him, disbelief cutting through her voice. "Unfortunately, we can't do that. He hurt our friend—we can't just let him walk away."
Dante didn't look at her. His gaze never left Vergil.
"I said stand down."
His voice wasn't loud—but it carried. The kind that didn't need to shout to be obeyed.
"This…" He exhaled, smirking faintly despite the heat building between them. "…is a family matter."
Vergil's eyes met his across the wreckage—cold, calculating, but with the faintest flicker of recognition.
For a second, the rest of the world faded. There was only them. Two sons of Sparda, separated by years, fate, and blood.
Dante spun Rebellion once, setting his stance. "You want the shard? Fine. But you're not walking out with it until we settle this."
Vergil tilted his head, voice low and even. "You always were impatient."
Dante grinned. "And you always were predictable."
The floor beneath them cracked, molten light spilling through the fractures as Hellfire energy began to stir again—drawn by the shard still pulsing in Vergil's grip.
Dante stood between the others and Vergil, Rebellion gleaming in his grip.
"This is between us," he said quietly. "No one else."
Vergil didn't argue. He simply drew Yamato again, the air splitting with its hum.
For a heartbeat, they stood still—two reflections of the same soul.
The molten light flickered across their faces. White hair. Blue eyes. One burning red shard between them.
Then they moved.
Yamato blurred in a flash of blue. Rebellion met it in a burst of sparks.
The sound rang through the hangar like thunder.
Dante pushed forward, his boots grinding against the molten floor, every strike heavier than the last. He was fast—but not as fast as he wanted to be. His body still screamed from the fight with the Sentinel, every muscle on fire, lungs burning from the Hellfire haze.
Vergil countered each swing effortlessly, Yamato carving perfect arcs through the air. His movements were clean, deliberate, unshaken.
Steel met steel again and again, until the world around them vanished into a storm of sparks and echoing blows.
Dante ducked low and spun, firing Ebony & Ivory in a rapid burst. Bullets of Hellfire streaked through the haze, cutting bright trails across the molten air.
Vergil didn't flinch.
Yamato moved once—clean, effortless.
Each bullet split midair and froze for a heartbeat. Then, with a precise twist of his wrist, Vergil realigned them in perfect formation before him. The light from them reflected in his eyes—cold blue meeting Dante's crimson glow.
He flicked Yamato forward.
The air snapped.
Every bullet fired back at once, faster than they'd left Dante's guns. The barrage tore through the air like a storm of molten glass.
Dante raised Rebellion, blocking three and twisting aside to dodge the rest. One grazed his shoulder, bursting into a flash of flame.
He slid back, boots sparking against the steel, smoke curling from his coat.
"Cool party trick," he muttered.
Vergil didn't answer.
He stepped forward, cutting once, twice—each strike faster than the last. Dante met him every time, but the effort was killing him. Sweat stung his eyes. His arms trembled.
He forced a grin anyway.
"Guess some things never change. You swing first, I bleed second."
Vergil's expression stayed calm, unreadable.
"And I see you've grown weaker. Tell me, brother—why do you deny what you are? Why cling to humanity, when it only chains your power?"
He vanished.
Dante barely saw the movement—just a shimmer of blue light before pain exploded in his side. Yamato had already cut through the air, slicing his coat open, barely missing his ribs.
Dante staggered back, blood dripping onto the molten steel.
"You're just a cheat," he said through clenched teeth.
Vergil turned slightly, almost curious. "No, Dante… I'm just stronger."
Dante charged again, reckless but desperate. Rebellion clashed against Yamato, the two blades screaming against each other in a shower of sparks. Every impact sent waves of Hellfire rippling across the floor.
Vergil moved with surgical precision, parrying Dante's final strike and spinning behind him in a blur of motion.
Dante turned too late.
Yamato plunged forward, driving straight through his abdomen.
The sound was soft—a wet, metallic whisper.
Dante froze, breath catching in his throat. His eyes widened. The tip of the blade glowed red with his blood.
Vergil stood close enough that Dante could see his own reflection in his brother's eyes.
Neither spoke.
Then Vergil's hand moved—calm, deliberate. He reached toward Dante's chest, toward the crimson pendant hanging around his neck.
The pendant that their mother had given them.
It swung once, catching the light—then Vergil tore it free.
The chain snapped.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was Dante's ragged breathing.
Dante's voice came out hoarse. "Give it back, Vergil."
Vergil pulled Yamato free in one smooth motion. Dante collapsed to his knees, one hand pressed against the wound, blood running between his fingers.
Rebellion fell beside him with a dull clang.
Vergil looked at the pendant, arrogance gleaming in his eyes. He tossed it back near Dante's reach.
"Fighting you like this is a waste of time. Heal up, get stronger. When the time comes, we'll settle this properly."
He sheathed Yamato, the click echoing through the hangar.
Dante looked up through the haze, pain burning behind his eyes. "Vergil… why come back?"
Vergil didn't look back. "To open the gates of Hell—and free the Lords who wait beyond."
Dante's voice trembled, more anger than pain. "Why? Our father built that wall to keep them out!"
Vergil finally turned, eyes burning faintly blue. "Do you know what I saw, Dante? I watched our mother fight a demon alone while I was too weak to do anything. I saw her—bleeding and broken—because I couldn't protect her."
His tone hardened. "So I swore to gain power. The kind that could break fate and kill gods. I made my choice. I made a deal."
He unsheathed Yamato and sliced a portal into the air, the rift glowing with infernal light.
"Consider this your only warning, Dante. The next time we meet, expect to die."
Behind him, Elsa, Illyana, and Felicia's voices cut through the ringing, but Dante was too wounded to turn around. The world narrowed to the image of Vergil's portal closing—his brother's back, retreating into the vortex.
Finally, Dante's knees gave out, and he collapsed face-first onto the scorched ground.
"…Damn it, Vergil."