Saint Dymphna's Church – Salem
Morning light poured through the stained glass, painting the cracked marble floor in colors that didn't belong to this world.
The battle below was over, but the air still smelled of ash and sulfur.
SHIELD agents moved through the ruins disguised in FBI uniforms, their jackets marked only by faint silver crests. They carried containment cases, radiation scanners, and silence—the kind that followed men who'd seen too much and were paid not to ask.
At the far end of the church, Agent Phil Coulson stood beside a half-broken altar, clipboard in hand, voice calm as ever.
"Secure every entry. I want samples of the residue—any fragments that survived the blast. If it glows, hums, or screams, bag it."
One of his agents hesitated. "Sir… screams?"
Coulson didn't even look up. "Demons are real now. Don't be surprised if something screams."
He turned, his gaze falling on the pew near the front—where Dante lay unconscious, coat torn, one hand resting over his chest. His breathing was shallow but steady.
Dante stirred awake, blinking slowly. His gaze met Elsa, who leaned against a cracked pillar nearby. Felicia sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes closed from exhaustion. Illyana was seated across from them, her hands gently holding his.
All three snapped to attention the moment his eyes opened.
"Dante!" they shouted in relief.
Coulson approached, his usual calm demeanor softening slightly. "Ah, you're finally awake, Dante. What happened to not burning down half the city?"
Dante groaned as both Illyana and Felicia helped him sit up. "You didn't specify which city. Technically, I didn't burn down Manhattan this time."
Coulson sighed and shook his head. Elsa's glare could've melted steel.
"Why didn't you give us the full details of the job?" she demanded, tone sharp.
Coulson offered a tight half-smile. "Would you have taken it if I did?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." She tapped the pistol holstered at her hip. "But if you pull this bloody stunt again, I won't hesitate to shoot you myself."
Coulson nodded once. "Noted. As for payment—Elsa and Felicia will receive their full cut."
Felicia raised an eyebrow. "Wait, why are you paying me? I wasn't part of the official deal."
Coulson gave a small nod. "True. You're not being paid for the mission—you're being compensated for the intel you gathered during your infiltration. Care to sell that data officially?"
Felicia smirked. "Who says no to free money?" She tossed him a flash drive, which he caught with ease.
Coulson slipped it into his coat pocket, then turned back to Dante. "As for you, you're getting a reduced cut."
Dante frowned. "Reduced? Why the hell am I getting less?"
Coulson didn't even blink. "Property damage, Mr. Sparda. Half a block's worth of it."
Dante groaned. "Seriously? You're charging me for saving the city?"
Coulson checked his clipboard. "Collateral cleanup: one collapsed sewer main, two scorched patrol cars, and a three-story parking structure that apparently exploded itself. You're lucky I didn't bill you."
Elsa smirked. "Told you not to blow things up."
Felicia snorted. "At least this time he didn't level Manhattan."
Dante pointed a finger at her. "See? Improvement."
Coulson sighed, scribbling a note on his clipboard. "Try not to make improvement sound so expensive next time."
He turned to leave, then paused. "Did any of you happen to see a fragment of a sword—the one that powered that machine?"
Sorrow flickered across Dante's eyes as Vergil's face crossed his mind. He said nothing.
Instead, he grabbed Rebellion, slung it over his back, and started walking toward the church entrance.
Elsa, Felicia, and Illyana exchanged worried looks before following him out.
Outside the Church
The sky was shrouded with heavy clouds, the air thick and cold—the kind that warned of rain.
Dante stood near the steps, pulling from his coat the red pendant his mother had given him long ago. He stared at it in silence, whispering something only he could hear.
The first raindrops fell, pattering against the pendant. But everyone knew it wasn't just the rain hitting the metal.
Illyana stepped closer, concern in her voice. "Dante… are you crying?"
Dante slipped the pendant back under his shirt and looked at her, rain streaking down his face.
He smiled faintly—tired, but sure.
"Devils never cry."
Illyana blinked, confused by his words, about to ask what he meant when she heard a voice behind her.
"Illyana!"
Kurt Wagner ran up, his tail flicking anxiously as he stopped beside her. "We need to head back. Cyclops wants everyone home for treatment. Some of us are still hurt from the battle."
Illyana glanced past him, toward Dante and the others. She hesitated, fingers brushing the crescent-moon pendant around her neck. She wanted to go with Dante—but she couldn't abandon her brother and her team.
Dante caught the conflicted look on her face and decided to make it easier. He walked over, pulling a small, rain-soaked card from his coat and flipping it between his fingers before handing it to her.
She took it, reading the front.
Devil May Cry—in bold red script.
Below it, an address in Manhattan and a phone number scrawled by hand.
Dante grinned. "I don't like making a girl choose, so… if you ever wanna hang out—or grab a pizza—just call me. Or stop by. Whichever works."
Elsa's glare could've cut through stone, while Felicia's lips curled into a wicked grin. She strolled over, eyes glinting with mischief.
"Nice to meet you," Felicia said sweetly. "Name's Black Cat. I'm Dante's girlfriend."
Before anyone could react, she leaned in and kissed Dante on the cheek.
Dante froze. Elsa's jaw dropped. Illyana's eyes went wide.
Kurt raised an eyebrow, clearly more relaxed now that Dante seemed taken.
Illyana looked down, shoulders trembling as if from anger. Dante broke into a nervous sweat, sensing death fast approaching, while Felicia looked entirely too pleased with herself.
Illyana suddenly looked up, determination flashing in her eyes. Dante tried to say something—anything—but no words came out.
Then she grabbed him by the collar, pulled him down—and before he could react, he felt something warm and soft press against his lips.
Time stopped.
Felicia blinked. Elsa looked like she might explode. Kurt just muttered, "Mein Gott…"
When Illyana finally let go, she stepped back, cheeks flushed but eyes fierce.
Her voice dropped low, laced with fire and authority.
"Next time, I won't ask. You're mine, Dante—body, soul, and sin."
Dante froze, hand instinctively rising to his lips, the heat of her words still hanging in the air.
Felicia burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Girl's got guts. Don't worry, I share my man. Elsa, you might need to step up your game."
Elsa buried her face in her hands. "I should buy a leash for this pizza-loving dog. He can't stop charming other girls."
Kurt frowned and spoke quietly to Illyana, who didn't seem to hear him. "We should really be going."
Illyana headed toward her team, then turned back to see Dante still half-dazed. "I'll see you again, Devil Hunter."
Dante shook his head, a cocky grin forming on his face. "See you later, Illy."
The rain fell harder now, thunder rumbling overhead. Dante turned back toward the church, Rebellion glinting on his back, the faintest smile lingering on his face.
Post-Credits Scene – Castle Dracul, Transylvania
Thunder rolled across the Carpathians, shaking dust from the rafters of an ancient fortress carved into the mountainside.
The corridors glowed with crimson candlelight, each flame twisting toward the throne that sat upon a dais of black stone and bone.
Upon that throne sat a man whose very presence commanded the darkness.
Tall, regal, and deathly pale, his features were sharp as carved marble—cheekbones high, eyes the color of fresh blood.
A cloak of living shadow draped his shoulders, trimmed in the crimson of centuries past.
This was Count Vlad Dracula, Lord of Vampires—first of his kind and eternal king of the night.
In him lingered the cold majesty of nobility and the cruelty of something long past human.
A hooded acolyte approached, kneeling low, clutching a silver case that pulsed with faint infernal light.
"My lord," he rasped, voice trembling, "the seers confirm the resonance—the same pulse that rippled when the Salem Gate collapsed."
Dracula's red eyes flickered with intrigue as he opened the case.
Inside, a fragment of crystal floated above a basin of blood, throbbing like a beating heart.
His tone was soft, dangerous. "And the source?"
The acolyte pressed a control rune on his wrist.
A holographic projection flared to life, displaying a string of classified S.H.I.E.L.D. data.
Across the top glowed the file header:
S.H.I.E.L.D. – LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE REQUIRED
Subject: Hardy, Felicia (Alias: Black Cat)
Status: Active civilian / Known associate of "Devil Hunter in Red"
Note: Heartbeat registers anomalous infernal frequency.
An image accompanied the text—Felicia Hardy, silver hair illuminated by streetlights as she walked through Manhattan.
Over her chest, red energy shimmered faintly in sync with the shard floating before Dracula.
"The resonance matches perfectly," the acolyte whispered.
"Every time the one they call the Devil Hunter in Red engages a demonic entity, the shard inside her heart responds."
Dracula's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile.
"So," he murmured, "the fragment hides in flesh—and its rhythm follows the son of Sparda himself."
He rose from the throne, the darkness shifting with him like a living storm.
"Among men, they name him the Devil Hunter in Red. Among the damned…"—his eyes gleamed like twin coals—"…he shall be known as the Red Devil Hunter."
The acolyte bowed lower. "The cults say he is Sparda's heir, my lord—the one who sealed the Gates."
Dracula's smile widened, elegant and cruel.
"Then the legends breathe again. Prepare the coven. New York awaits."
The torches dimmed. The air thickened, the scent of smoke and wine curling through the chamber.
Then came a voice—smooth, layered, ancient.
"Not yet, noble Count."
A shadow rose from the floor like black mist, coiling into a vague silhouette of horns and smoke. Eyes of molten gold opened within the haze.
When it spoke again, the voice carried both silk and thunder.
Asmodeus.
"New York can wait," the phantom said, circling the throne like a serpent of smoke. "The girl's shard will not flee. But another calls to you—a heartbeat beneath London."
Dracula's gaze sharpened. "You speak as if you know its source."
A low chuckle reverberated through the hall. "I do not deal in secrets, Count. Only in truth. Beneath that city lies a seal—one of Sparda's. Break it, and you will find a piece of his sword… and something that hungers for rebirth."
Dracula's expression hardened. "You expect me to trust a ghost of Hell?"
The smoke shifted, forming the faint outline of a man's face—handsome, proud, and utterly inhuman.
"Trust?" Asmodeus purred. "No. Merely act. I do not share Mephisto's lies. I seek the same thing you do—freedom."
His voice deepened, echoing with restrained power. "The seals must break. But deceit will not shatter them. Blood will."
Dracula studied the apparition. "And if I break your seal?"
"Then the night itself will bow to you," Asmodeus said, his words burning with subtle amusement. "Take what is yours beneath London. The shard calls for a king… and you were born to answer it."
The smoke began to unravel, fading back into the floor.
Dracula called out, "And the girl in New York?"
The fading voice replied, softer now, a whisper under the thunder.
"Send hunters. Take her heart. Let the Devil Hunter come running. While he bleeds for one shard, you will claim another."
The last curl of smoke vanished, leaving the scent of ash and roses.
Dracula smiled—sharp, regal, triumphant. "A demon without lies," he murmured. "A refreshing rarity."
He turned toward the acolyte. "Summon the Crimson Cult. Send our kin to New York. And prepare the coven for London."
Outside, thunder cracked as thousands of bats erupted from the towers, blackening the moon.
And far away, beneath the storm-washed skyline of New York, the Devil Hunter in Red paused mid-stride—
a chill crawling up his spine, as though something vast and ancient had whispered his name.
End of Arc Two – Sons of Sparda
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A/N: That's it for this arc! I'll be going back into hibernation for a bit to work on Arc Three of DMC: Devils of Midnight. Until then—adios!