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Chapter Text

Prologue: He Who Remains

…

The crackle of fire and the whisper of the wind was the first thing he heard, surrounding his being. He could not feel the heat of the flames, nor the grazing touch of the air; his entire being felt numb. Part by part it was breaking down, losing both function and form in every precious, passing second.

He was dying. The man had accepted his fate long ago; to be faced with it had not changed his view. If he were to perish alone, then he would do it gladly. As long as the monster inside of him perished as well.

For the first time in five hundred years, Balder’s eyes opened of their own volition.

They squinted against the blazing sun bearing down upon them, just threatening to close again. To his right he could see the silhouette of… something blocking the blue sky and to his left was the faint greenery of trees. His fingers could feel dirt and grass beneath him and they weakly tried to grip something.

The object grew clearer. He could make out the features of marble and stone, carved into an unnaturally beautiful woman. His memories told him this was the shell of Jubileus, a vessel for holding her spirit until she could be resurrected.

Memories continued to play out, like they were recordings of just everything he had done. What he had ruined. Who he had destroyed.

Millions, perhaps billions, of lives had been affected by his actions. Entire bloodlines had disappeared forever from his machinations, with others being altered to something beyond human or what could even be considered human. He had enslaved countries of people with just a thought, killed others-

That wasn’t him! That was-

He wasn’t strong enough to stop it-

He had no idea what was going to happen when he-

The eyes slipped shut as air escaped from his punctured lungs, hissing into the air with withering disappointment in himself. He had let all of this happen because he was not strong enough. Now, that strength was failing and he could not stop what was going to be unleashed onto the world.

A blue spirit rose from his chest, the golden chains keeping it inside dulling and snapping with soft twangs. It regarded him with derision and hatred, tilting its head to the side and spoke with a mocking tone:

“You thought you could contain me forever and die with me, did you not?”

Balder could only cough in response. Blood gurgled out of his throat and dribbled out from the corners of his mouth, staining the ground beside him.

“Your arrogance was always astounding. ‘Sanity is a requirement for your kind?’ What trifling mediocrity. Yes, you made me a prison that you upheld. But look at you now; broken in mind, broken in body, broken in soul. The prison became a vessel, and now that vessel is about to perish. What a display of selflessness.”

Balder wished he could speak. At the very least he could recant the spell and contain the Enemy for five more minutes, or however long it took for his body to finally die.

The figure gestured around to the presumable destruction. “All of this could have just been avoided if you were selfish for once. You left your poor daughter behind and then killed them all. Was that worth it? You saw everything I could achieve and yet you still fell into fate like a blind lamb, led directly to the slaughter.”

The faces of Rosa and Cereza flashed through his mind. Of his beautiful wife and child, both gone from him forever.

Because he wasn’t strong enough.

…

“If I stray… from my path…” He resisted the pull for another moment, fighting it with all of his being. Balder could feel the poison spreading from the moment the spirit entered his body and he was afraid of what was about to happen.

“Daddy!” His daughter screamed at him, reaching out with her left hand. The Witch holding her right kept her grip tight and pulled her back.

Good. Jeanne was always dependable to do the right thing.

“Cereza…” He swallowed as his thoughts began to turn against him. “Please… You must end me… You must stop me!”

“I can save you, Daddy!”

“You can’t! Please, for the good of all, do the right thing!” With the last of his own strength, he relaxed his muscles and let the portal swallow him.

…

He had no idea what he would be going through upon taking in that monster. Well, that was a lie; he had an idea, but that paled in comparison to being a prisoner in his own body.

The blue figure began to laugh. “Oh, you did this all for them, didn’t you? How well did that work out, Balder?”

Both arms were becoming more solid and they gripped his shoulders and heaved. All that was left inside of him was the Enemy’s legs, held by the weakest of links. He needed to recant the spell.

“Shh…” One hand covered his mouth, as if they knew what was about to happen. “Balder… You would not want to stop me now, would you? You can stop this all right now. Just let me-“

A beam of blue energy shot from his left and struck the blue figure in the head, continuing along with it into the statue. The headless spirit slumped over, blue specks rising from it and they disappeared from existence.

“What a bothersome pest. Do you not agree?”

Slow footsteps approached him, light and controlled. Balder swallowed painfully, then licked his lips. He had not spoken in over five hundred years; it was due time for that to change.

“You.” His throat burned with pain as the lone word slipped out, tearing at his damaged vocal cords with savage abandon.

“Oh yes,” the sounds all stopped. Only the faint crackling of the fire and the wheezing of his breathing remained. “It is me. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I suppose,” the Enemy continued before Balder had a chance to respond. “You would not be. But you know why I am here. And do not dare think to send it away; you know that creates an Arch Eve Origin, and that would be… catastrophic. You have to die with it now, if you want to pathetically try to delay me.”

A hand caressed his forehead, focussing around his right eye. “Just think of it, Balder. You have been fighting against everything for five hundred long years. Do you not understand? Fate and destiny cannot be denied. But now you are at a crossroads and you can finally change everything. No more Witch Hunts. No more slaughtering of your brethren Sages. No more pain or suffering for this entire world. And it’s so easy too! All you have to do is simply give me what is rightfully mine.”

“Your… plan… is… nothing… but… pain…” He managed to gasp out, each word becoming weaker and weaker.

The Enemy laughed. “Oh, you are a riot Balder! Every time you say this, it never gets old. A good joke, but an even better tale to be told later.”

“She… will… stop… you…”

“She will stop me? My dear Balder, you know of me and just exactly who I am. I cannot be stopped.” They became serious within a split second. “No more delays. Give me my Eye or I will take it from you.”

Balder thought of Rosa. Of how much he loved her and wished to see her once more. She would hold him tight and forgive him for his sins, no matter how sick and cruel he had become.

He thought of Cereza. His sweet child that had grown up into a beautiful and powerful woman. She still had family, but he hoped that one day, she would find it in her heart to forgive him and see the truth.

He thought of Luka Redgrave. Of the poor boy he had traumatised for no reason other than he could. He wished that he could have stayed out of this life and lived one that was relatively normal.

His thoughts trailed to Jeanne. Of a woman he ruined because she dared to stand for what was right. He hoped she hated him. He did not expect anything else and knew she would not be receptive to the future in store for her.

And finally, his thoughts came to his fabricated son. The boy who would know nothing but the tortured existence. Again, he wished he could have lived a normal life, but it was always destined for him not to.

Forgiveness could never be earned; Balder reflected to himself. Only the cold resolution of vengeance.  His last thoughts lay with Cereza, hoping she would find happiness and peace in her lifetime.

His Eye would not be dying with him. And Balder knew exactly where he was sending it.

“Make your decision, Lumen Sage. I’m waiting-“

His glaive appeared in a flash, impaling his own skull and Balder knew no more.

…

Five Hundred Years Ago

…

The door opened to his cell, swinging with a screech from rusted joints and ringing from it slamming against the stone wall.

Balder did not look up. He stared down at his manacled hands, keeping his long hair shrouding his face. Footsteps echoed through the room in a brief reprieve from his rhythmic breathing.

“It is time, Onythyll,” The calm voice of the Elder reverberated. “Please, stand.”

“We do not have to do it this way.” A younger voice argued. They then addressed him with a plead. “Brother, just confess to us; she put a spell on you. You were in an addled state of mind!”

He stayed silent, not acknowledging them. They had not listened then; what would make them change to listen now? The Lumen only ever heard what they wanted to hear.

“Norik, step away. He has made it very clear that his choices are his and his alone.”

“I will not have my Lumen Brother exiled!” Norik’s sudden raised voice made him flinch. “That accursed Umbran whore-“

“Do not refer to her by that derogatory name!” His throat was dry from unuse, but the sharp, biting tone remained. Balder raised his head and glared at the youngest member of the Lumen Council. “Her name is Rosa, and she is my wife!”

The Lumen Elder folded his arms with a scoff. “That marriage was annulled the minute we learned of it. You are just another man now.”

“And that is what you will become. I cannot believe you, the Paragon of the Lumen Sages, would be tempted by a woman of all things.” Norik folded his hands into the sleeves of his white robe while his lip curled up in distaste. “You were in line to become the Overseer of Light! The leader of our Order! The saviour of our Clan! Why would you give up everything for our guaranteed annihilation!?”

His gaze returned to his hands. He had already given them that answer several times, and he could not be bothered to say it one more time.

“Love,” the Elder spat out. “That is what you have repeatedly said. A falsified love for a heretical whore.”

The casual, dismissive use of the words enraged him. But there was nothing he could do about it but sit there and smoulder with fury.

“She tempted you with the apple and you willingly took a bite, even knowing what it would entail. You, Balder, are nothing more than a common peasant, ruled by urges over logic and detachment!” The Elder’s voice was gaining force with every word spoken. “We trusted you! And you betrayed us! Let us see what the fruits of your ‘love’ will bring upon yourself. Now stand!”

Balder made no effort to get to his feet. If anything, he slunk down lower in the chair.

“Norik, get him up.”

Two hands reached under his arms and lifted him with ease. He relaxed into them, trying as hard as he could to be a deadweight.

“Brother, if you please,” the man hissed into his ear. “Do not make this difficult for both of us. I do not care if you believe your feelings for her are genuine. Right now, you are just-“

“Enough of this ‘brother’ title. Referring to him as one of us is still acknowledging that he is. You know he is not.” The Elder interrupted, unfolding his arms. “Strip him of his power and banish him; Onythyll is not part of our clan and will never be.”

“What of the Eye? He still has it in his possession.”

“It is of no consequence. An advisor told me it would be best to let the Eye die with him.” He pointed towards the door. “Take him away.”

Norik moved swiftly, practically dragging him through the opening and down the hallway. Balder could see Sages looking at him, staring with daggers and poison. The Lumen Council stood at the exit to the Fortress, shaking their heads. A hooded boy was with them, staring at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Balder could not take his attention away from him. Something about the boy was not right; he was definitely not what he seemed.

…

Twelve years later…

…

Balder wiped the sweat from his brow and folded his arms with satisfaction. The pile of apples in his basket was far greater than anyone else’s. He supposed it was ironic of him to feel such a thing in a non-competitive setting, but the knowledge his physical skills had not waned was a sufficient reward. Reaching down and grabbing both handles, he began his trek towards the brewery.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

He sighed, but continued to walk onwards. Two massive brutes of men stepped in front of him. Rolling his eyes, he tried to walk around the pair. Instead, another pair of men walked out and blocked his exit.

Looking around as more men surrounded him, Balder sighed again. “What do you want, Thyron?”

The sickly thin man slipped between the two brutes, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, nothing, pretty boy. Just nothing in particular.”

“We both know that is a lie. What is it you seek of me?”

“Tell me, Balder. Why are you so… pretty?” A man from his left sneered. “Such a beautiful man, they all say.”

“Yeah, they all fucking say it.”

“Every one of them.”

“None of them give us a second glance.”

Frustration threatened to boil over, but he kept his calm visage. “I have told everyone who has propositioned me that I am not interested; I already am married and do not ever wish to stray from my wife.”

A bark of laughter escaped from Thyron’s throat. “You? Married? Don’t give me that shit. Why would a married man be sent to work in the fields?”

“Yeah, he’s married. To the job!”

“What a man. Taking both our jobs and our women!”

“I do not have time for this.” He tried to push pass someone, but they shoved him back into the circle. The men began to walk forward, enclosing all means of escape off.

“Time? We have plenty of time. Enough time to mar that pretty face of yours so some woman can notice us!”

’My liege.’

The basket in his fingers fell as his entire body froze in shock. That was a voice he was never supposed to hear again.

“Ha! Pretty boy is all scared!”

“Look at him all frozen. Never been in a fight before, pretty boy?”

“He probably doesn’t know how to fight!”

“With those soft hands and pale skin? He probably doesn’t know what the sun is, let alone a fight!”

Power he could never use again began to flow into his fingers, spreading out and into his being. The grasp of his glaive was right there, just ready to be used on these people who meant harm on him.

‘Fate has befallen your brethren.’

That was something he was half expecting to hear, but it still sent a chill through his spine.

“Apologies, but I must get going. We can quarrel another time.”

Wings sprouted from his back and he jumped high into the sky. Cries and shouts of both terror and surprise followed him up, but he did not give them a second glance. He had to reach Vigrid. He needed to reach the Sunrise Valley.

The Eye pulsed finally, granting him the both comfort of its power and weight.

…

A massacre greeted him.

Balder stood amongst the ruins of the Sunrise Valley, the stench of death permeating everything. Bodies of his former brothers surrounding him, piled up in burning pyres that burned his eyes. Averting them, he gazed at the sky with despair.

The Umbra had done this.

No other clan in the world had the strength to be able to pull off an achievement like this. The Desert Walkers in Egypt were tenacious and could withstand an assault forever, but they were not able to return the favour in any fashion. The Clan based in France, the Night Stalkers, could have conceivably done it. But a show of force like this was not in their playbook and unwanted bloodshed was something Mamon Cyeshe immensely disliked, both due to their dedicated teachings of assignation and politics. They would destabilise the Clan, not slaughter it.

The other Clans scattered around the world were not interested in conquest and would not bother slaughtering one of the others without superseded and taking their territory for themselves.

It all lead to one, overarching question that had no immediate answer; why had the Umbra did this?

“How did…” He whispered to himself. The breeze picked up into a howling wind, tossing his long hair back in a stream of silver. “Why did this happen!?”

His daughter. The answers lay with the Umbra Witches. The issue with that was that he would step into the Crescent Valley and probably be killed instantly. Not just because he was a Lumen Sage, but he was the one they would despise the most. Hesitation tore through him. He needed to know, but he-

Sod it. He needed to know. If he died with the knowledge his daughter and wife were still alive, then he could die a happy man.

“Lumen Sage.”

A cracking sound ripped through the air and he turned to see a blue portal rupturing reality. A blue figure stepped through, opening their arms wide in a peaceful gesture. A strange cloak surrounded their frame, connected at the wrists and the top of their head, giving them a diamond-like appearance. Their features were obscured by the monotone coloration, but he could see they had a despondent look upon their face.

“Who are you?” Balder asked the obvious question.

“I am known as the Prophetic One, Sage. I know the answers to some of the questions you seek.”

“Why not all?”

They looked away, staring at the burning piles behind him. “Some of the future is obscured for me. I cannot divine everything.”

That lined up with what he knew from Madama Khepri. Rosa had told him a few times that the Infernal could see the future, but it was limited due to the ever-changing nature of fate. He rubbed his watery eyes and swallowed. “What do you know? And what can you share?”

“This slaughter,” they gestured to the surrounding area. “Was the work of the Umbra Witches, but not their machinations.”

That was a confirmation of his theory, but it still didn’t answer any questions. If anything, it created more.

“What do you mean, ‘not their machinations?’ Is there some exterior force?” Balder spat out, hiding his confusion and hurt with anger.

The figure stared at him, their expression turning mournful. “The Umbra learned to them terrible truths from a once trusted aide of humanity. He told them that the birth of a Child of Light and Dark would result in the annihilation of the world, regardless of the outcome. The only way this could be rectified was to eliminate all involved.”

“You are lying!” Anger was not his mask any longer. “They would not have-“

“I am sorry. They are dead.”

His glaive appeared, pointing at the figure. “Tell me the truth, spectre, or die!”

“Rosa and Cereza Onythyll perished at the hands of the Umbra Witches. And when they turned to the Lumen Sages to turn you over to them, your brother’s refused. As recompenses for what they perceived as this slight, they slaughtered every one of them.”

Anguish filled him and he dropped the glaive. It clattered against the floor, forgotten, and he fell to his knees and screamed. He wept amongst his fallen brothers, his strength sapping.

They could not be dead.

The Umbra were a proud clan; they would not resort to murdering their own in cold blood!

But both Rosa and himself knew the risks if they were to have a child. One of these would be them being-

No. Cereza was alive! Unless she was trained and had an Eye of the world-

She-

She had to be.

She-

Rosa-

“But, Lumen Sage,” the voice was louder and clearer than ever before. “I can offer you revenge and vengeance for the senseless slaughtering of your brothers and your wife and child. The entity that tricked them from this escaped into the future in order to hide himself from anyone who could object to his machinations.”

“What good is that knowledge to me!?” The Sage howled, looking up with unbridled hatred.

“I can bring you to him. Loki the trickster, is what he calls himself in my time.” The figure held a hand out. “Do you wish to seek revenge for those he has wronged?”

Balder pulled himself up to his feet, focussing on the portal. His family was dead. His clan was dead. He had nothing left except to take his vengeance on the Umbra and this ‘Loki.’

And so, he nodded once, slow and deliberate. “I accept your aid, Prophet. Take me to this impudent schemer.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A World of Chaos

…

Bayonetta felt his fist slamming against her temple with a resounding punch and she flew to her left in an unguided missile of flesh and bone. Slamming into a wall, she crashed through the bricks and wood in an explosion of dust and debris. The momentum carried her into the opposite wall. This time, she did not break through.

Catching her breath, she swallowed and forced her aching body upright as best as she could. Bayonetta only reached her knees and hands before she felt the tip of his sword at her throat. It pulled up, raising her head into his gaze.

“Stand, Umbra Witch,” Damien’s voice was calm and serene. His eyes stared with soulless hatred, almost like he was simply going through the motions. That was incorrect; he was a puppet of him, and he always called the shots. “And let me take my Eye from you.”

“Bubby…” She pleaded once again. And just like every other time, he was forced to ignore her. His head tilted and his clouded eyes lit up in delight.

“None of that matters anymore,” he turned around, still keeping the katana at her throat. “The Prophet is here to take back what is theirs.”

“Listen to me, B-”

“Your ‘Bubby’ is dead. Only I remain.”

A blue figure, shrouded in the settling dust and darkness, stepped into the light. Their body was shrouded in misshapen details, each limb flowing into their body in an indistinguishable sea of cerulean.

To their left stood another unknown person. This one was far more material and dressed in long, flowing white robes with cyan and gold trims. These patterned around his clothing, tracing up from the hem of his robe to the hood on his collar. A circular mask and hood hid their face away from view, and a familiar glaive twirled in their right hand.

To their right stood Jeanne, Angel Slayer swinging lazily in her grip. Her bald head was inscribed with glowing blue sigils and Bayonetta finally realised what had happened to her friend when she was captured long ago; there now was no more Jeanne in that body. She was truly nothing more than a hollow shell under their control.

“And here we go once again; you at my mercy, flanked by two puppets and one very good friend. I believe this situation has only ever occurred twice before, but this time we did not have good old Sephiroth here at all. I do now wonder,” the blue figure chuckled, gesturing to both herself and her brother. “Will they be the deciding factor?”

“Bubby please! Fight it!” She called out, desperate to reach him. His hair turned blue as the glow of the same sigils upon her former sister appeared. The Enemy, Jeanne and Damien all began to laugh at her pleas.

“It is useless. The same treatment that this wench here undertook was also given to them. Now, they are the perfect little weapon that you will never be able to defeat. Whatever was left of your ‘Bubby’ died long ago.” The Enemy turned to his left. “Now, would you like to do the honours or should we let her sibling kill her? After all, it was her that killed Cereza.”

The man stepped forward, pointing his glaive at her. “She took away my family. As much as I desire revenge, it is only fitting that the same happens to her.”

“I did not kill your family-”

“Where is your proof!?” The man exploded. The glaive disappeared from his hand, only to reappear in her left thigh and pin her to the ground. Bayonetta screamed and collapsed from the pain, only for more to burst from her face when the katana sliced through it from falling down.

“Where is any proof that the Prophet’s words are false and yours are true?” He kept up the verbal and physical assault, grabbing the glaive and giving it a twist. “Your lies and deceit will always fall on deaf ears, uls c vaoan!”

She screamed in agony, trying to reach down and alleviate anything. Bayonetta instead found herself frozen in place as Damien raised a hand and ensnared her with a paralysis spell. The masked man leaned down and pulled her head roughly until it met the circular visor.

“Is this what you did to them, Bayonetta? Torture them until they lost all of their will to rebel, to live?” Venom dripped from his words and he dropped her head. “You will suffer the same fate as my family, Umbra Witch!”

Fire surged from the man’s fingers, trailing down and into her leg. A symphony erupted from within her, echoing in her screams as well.

“Alright, that’s enough. You’ve made your point.” The Enemy beckoned to the man. The glaive was removed from her leg and the pain lessened instantly. It was still agonising and deliberating, although, and she curled into a tight ball.

“Now, now, Bayonetta; where is the light of resistance in your eyes? You are all that stands between me and my Eye, you know? Everyone else is dead or acquiesced to me,” they peered down at her, almost tenderly. “So why fight?”

Her only answer was a pained whimper.

“Let’s see; the Laguna are all dead or under my command. The Infernal’s are all still trapped in Inferno. The Infinite One is unwilling to help or dead; I don’t care which. The Ascendant One challenged me along with the Heiress of Destiny and they proved that they were weak.” The Enemy gestured to each person in question. “My Lumen Sage was already working with me in his goals to eliminate the Sovereign One, who is conveniently dead. The Prodigal Child cannot be born and the Twilight Wanderer is no longer a possibility.”

A body was tossed by Damien to the right of her. She knew exactly who he was and she didn’t want to look at them.

“Poor Redgrave suffered, you know? I managed to finally run the experiment of whether or not you could invert a person and still have them live. Guess what? It’s feasible! They can live! Somehow. Given enough-”

“Shut up, you popsicle.” She spat out some blood, managing to roll over to stare up at their smug face. “Someone fucking has to stop you, and I will be the one to do so!”

“And of course, even in the face of certain death you still have quite the tongue. Jeanne!” The Enemy snapped their fingers and the puppet stood at attention. “Remove it.”

Bayonetta didn’t even even get to blink before Angel Slayer whipped out, expertly cutting through her vocal chords and severing her tongue from within. Immediately she screamed, then choked when the organ fell onto her larynx and closed it shut. Her gag reflex kicked in and she vomited her tongue out, along with a stream of blood.

“Now, it’s finally due time. Give me back my Eye, Arch Eve. I will not ask again.”

Something moaned near her. Bayonetta felt her skin go cold with fear and she slowly turned to see the quivering mass of flesh and bone reaching out to her. The two eyes that sunk into its brain pleaded with desperateness.

“Oh, I forgot! Redgrave didn’t suffer; he’s still suffering!” The Enemy laughed. His hand appeared, pointing at Luka. “Come on, do you not want to help him? I will give you this, Bayonetta; I’ll let you kill him. I won’t, they won’t, but you can! You, my dear, can be the one to stop his suffering! All you have to do is kill the one person you swore to protect no matter what.”

Scarborough Fair slipped into her hand and she took aim. If they had their way, he would suffer for eternity just to spite her. Pain filled her mental and physical states and she screwed her eyes closed. She couldn’t look.

“Bayonetta…” Luka begged with a tone that was just wrong. Everything about this was wrong. “Please… Make it stop…”

A cry erupted from her throat, garbled and inhuman from the loss of her tongue. She could hear the Prophet laughing in the background and she wished she could do something else.

But there was nothing else she could do. Everyone else was dead or under their command. All that was left was making sure Luka did not suffer any longer.

She pulled the trigger.

…

Bayonetta woke up with a scream that almost instantly silenced itself when she realised that she was no longer dreaming. Breathing heavily, she climbed out of bed and practically ran towards the main room. Ignoring the surprised sounds from the trio of cats, she threw open the door to Luka’s room and just stared.

The mortal was still snoring away, blissfully unaware of the unsettled and frazzled woman at his door.

And he better stay that way. I have no idea what to do if Cheshire did ever beg me to kill him.

Butterfly, as was the case for the last three months, did not answer.

Sighing with relief, she watched him sleep for a minute and let her nerves calm themselves. Once Bayonetta felt they were sufficiently ready, she gently closed the door and made her way to the bathroom. Running the cold water, she splashed it onto her face and watched her reflection with tired, darkened eyes.

A lot had changed in half a year.

When everything had settled down, Rodin had requested that she and Jeanne attended an experiment of his design. For some asinine reason the gunsmith had attempted to make a multi-universe dimension wormhole device, that they had all instantly nicknamed the Dimensionator for ease of speech, and had asked Damien to be his test subject. Apparently there had been two goals with this; one was to figure out if it worked and the other was to deliver a warning to specific figures in these other dimensions.

Damien was supposedly the perfect candidate for it. Rodin all but said that he needed someone with a fresher view on the world; a person with more naivety than prejudices and someone with the strength to survive anything that the other side could throw at them. Considering he had survived death by a technicality (something she still had not truly forgiven him for) and the pair of Umbra had not, the choice seemed logical on that behalf.

And hell, he was still very much the naive boy she had met in Vigrid. Both herself and Jeanne had opinions that contradicted Rodin's modus operandi; the gunsmith had flat out told her that she would compromise many relationships if she simply opened her mouth to the wrong person. That was completely wrong; Bayonetta visited two of these dimensions and the only person who screwed up anything badly was when poor Breylna ‘accidently’ shrunk Damien to the size of a mouse.

Four universes were meant to be visited; three times did her brother traverse dimensions in the space of two months. He refused to talk about the first one, she tagged along in the second and Jeanne was dragged in on the third after she had inadvertently left him behind. Bayonetta could talk about how she was jealous he was getting the opportunity to undertake all of these adventures, but every time he returned he was either sad from leaving new friends behind permanently or legitimately traumatised by the experience. At the end of the third trip he told Rodin that he refused to continue along with his plans any longer. He just couldn’t do it anymore.

Surprisingly, the weaponsmith agreed.

“Killing off an entire species accidently just because you wanted to help them will do that.” Jeanne had said when Bayonetta asked both what the hell was both going on and why he was giving up on Rodin’s request. She refused to elaborate and dealt with it her own way; by getting black out drunk and making Damien clean up her mess after. She also said that he would tell her when the time was right.

Considering his continued silence, perhaps never was truly the right time. It was obvious to everyone around him that he was truly hurting, but Damien refused to speak on his experiences. He did speak about how Jeanne’s drinking habits weren’t just a one-off occurrence. It seemed that every other night he was coming home to see an unconscious Witch surrounded by empty bottles.

Bayonetta’s features softened when her thoughts trailed to her sister. Jeanne’s experiences in the last six months had been… hectic. But at the same time it was inspirational.

Damien and Jeanne moved into her apartment, which was conveniently a few streets away from Luka's, and their life slowed down to a crawl. She had managed to find a stable job that she enjoyed by becoming a history teacher for a local school, something Bayonetta still made fun of from how she ‘cheated’ her knowledge of the subject.

Her habits of drowning her sorrows in alcohol eventually became vigilantism as the Wonderful Cutie J who protected the city of New York, a completely unknown heroine who prowled the streets-

Well, they all pretended to her that none of them knew, but it made them smile whenever she would awkwardly ask their opinions on the masked crusader. Jeanne’s eyes would light up with pride and satisfaction every time they praised her actions and she would be both bubbly and content with life for a week or so.

But the one thing that made Bayonetta really happy was that Jeanne managed to find love. It was probably an overreaction to label the relationship as that simply because they had literally just started dating, but goddamn were Trish and Jeanne the cutest couple she had ever seen. Apparently it had all come about when the latter finally let go of her latent feelings and accepted Bayonetta as a sister, which allowed her to truly discover what she actually wanted. Well, discover that other people could see her in a romantic light and she could do the same.

But being the person she was, Jeanne did not make any moves on her newfound attraction to the Demoness. Instead she opted to dwell on it and continuously ask everyone else for advice as to how to move forward. Each person, from herself to Damien, to Dante, to Ada Wong of all people and to even Luka told her the same thing; just ask her out. The worst that could happen was she said no and on the grand scale of bad that had happened to Jeanne? It was very low on the totem pole.

It took Trish finally getting fed up from constant coffee dates and teasing from her friends at Devil May Cry to do what Jeane could not. They sealed the deal a month ago and became official after kicking her poor brother out of the apartment that night.

That all, again, was according to Damien. Trish had told her much later that he lied about being forced out; she wasn’t even aware he was in the apartment and Jeanne was too inebriated with both lust and alcohol to remember or care he was.

No wonder he walked in looking completely traumatised.

Aside from the dimension hopping, her brother had been busy in the last half year. He had accepted the training offer from Dante, but he specified it was people training and not fighting training. Damien spent his days teleporting around the globe, meeting up with her constantly, staying at Jeanne’s and absorbing teachings of the Umbra and learning the ropes of dealing with the public with Nero and his side of Devil May Cry. It wasn’t abnormal for him to disappear into obscurity for weeks on end while he stayed there, but every time he came back he had changed for the better. Slowly, but surely, he was beginning to accept himself and his power while becoming comfortable in his skin.

According to Nero it was due to having a few friends around that treated him as a human being instead of a freak science experiment.

Life was not without its ups and downs. He and Jeanne had gotten into an argument that ended with a shouting match over her addiction to alcohol which left him running away for a month. Rodin said he had used the Dimensionator to complete the fourth and final task asked of him during this time, and whatever he had done in a world called ‘The Lands Between’ had been enough to calm him down significantly enough to talk. Bayonetta remembered him walking in, completely unannounced, and spilling the beans on what Jeanne had screamed at him;

“Your struggles and pain do not matter because you don’t react to them! You think you are some kind of sad little boy because you got experimented on? I was tortured for months and puppeteered for a century! I need this alcohol to fucking be able to function and if you can’t accept that then you should just go and murder more fucking people just to feel a small fraction of what I feel every single day! Shit, go and murder children! That’s all you’re fucking good for!”

If what he was going through at the top of Ithavoll Tower was any indication, that was possibly the worst subject to both bring up and accuse him of. Despite her initial fury at his disappearance and abrupt reappearance, it was extremely difficult to stay angry at her highly emotional brother who was somehow blaming himself for being concerned over a certain someone's wellbeing.

Eventually, he had gone straight back to Jeanne to apologise. Regardless of whether or not she had deserved the apology, and it was of Bayonetta’s firm opinion that he did not need to, it was a large enough gesture that finally tipped the scales for Jeanne to accept that she needed to start attending some form of therapy. The last time she had spoken to him Damien had told her that it had been going along smoothly and the effects, while small, were instantaneous. There was no longer continuous tension in the apartment between the two parties, Jeanne became more outgoing and more liable to ask Trish out on dates instead of waiting for the Demoness and overall the Heiress was happier.

“Not visibly. I don’t think either Trish or myself have seen her smile yet,” Damien quickly added when she asked for a little more clarification. “But she’s humming to herself whenever she’s doing tasks, you know? I don’t know if she did that when she was a child, but she never did when I first moved in with her.”

Jeanne did do that back in her youth. That was more than enough to make Bayonetta squeal with happiness.

But if Bayonetta was being honest, they all needed therapy. Damien would argue that most therapists would be terrified of him, she noted that she was quite well adjusted and Luka simply could not find the time in his schedule to talk about his problems. Excuses were convenient, after all, but they all didn’t really need it at this moment. If these nightmare-like visions continued however, she might consider it. Then again, who could she really talk to about unfounded worries that her friends might be dying in the future?

Her thoughts trailed to the man she lived with. Initially their arrangement had gotten off to quite the rocky start, with her not really understanding how to live in a domestic sense and Luka expecting her to be, but once he figured out there was going to be problems he simply sat her down and asked what she wanted to know in regards to the modern world.

Which, once they both worked out the actual extent of her knowledge, was way too much until she would be considered competent. The Umbra had barely taught her anything about living and she had previously dealt with people who would do everything for her when she woke up.

And he taught her well. She could use computers and mobile phones without breaking them, her understanding of what was deemed basic arithmetic now was beyond her own expectations and she could cook medium difficulty meals without blowing up the kitchen.

Well, that already happened. But it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how his specific oven worked and that flour was explosive when subjected to heat! Literally anyone could make that mistake! He simply shook his head and sprinted to grab a fire extinguisher, muttering something about ‘chemistry’ and ‘science’. The next day textbooks pertaining to those two subjects appeared on her bookshelf in her room.

She still had not read them.

Luka himself had taken back to investigative journalism with fervor in addition to her lessons. Watching him pour through… investigative things, she really needed to learn the proper terms, was utterly fascinating. Most of it would be discarded as useless, but then he would find a lead and essentially grab it with both hands. Most of the time he would work solo, but eventually he would either call Damien or herself to get him out of a sticky situation.

Hell, the last time he was out he was attempting to bring down a trafficking operation. Luka had called Damien in immediately for backup, but then they both called in her when it was becoming obvious what they had stumbled into was not just your normal, run-of-the-mill bad guy nest. It had taken Jeanne and the FBI getting involved to solve the issue. The whole mess ended with one former senator meeting his timely demise.

Her eyes focussed on herself in the mirror, gazing at the unfamiliar style she now wore. The tall beehive bun that used to twirl atop her head was gone; Jeanne had changed her own hairstyle when her therapist suggested she change parts of her look to symbolically move on from her trauma. The suggestion resonated with her as well; since she had already renounced her true identity as either specifically Cereza or Bayonetta, she decided to try out a look that was now wholly hers.

Short, pixie cut raven locks fell around her face, giving her a more immature appearance. For her old haunts, which she visited still to keep up contacts and continue her previous jobs, it gave her an advantage to some of the new faces. They thought she was an impressionable ditz who had wandered into the wrong life; how wrong they all were. Sighing, she turned off the tap and noted the time; three AM in the morning.

Great. She wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight or any time soon. Not that she wanted to anyways.

Walking over to the ‘lounge’ room, she turned on a lamp and grabbed the blanket that lived perpetually on the sofa. Wrapping it around her and flopping gracefully onto the right end, she let a book drop down from Inferno and into her hands. It fell open once it landed, perfectly at the last read page. It was The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; a book that Luka recommended to her before practically throwing it at her to read. He explained that he enjoyed reading it when he was much younger, but it was the book he had been reading when his father died.

She silently swore on the spot to read it out of respect for both him and his father. And she had not regretted that decision yet.

A wet nose tapped the back of her neck, startling her. Chuckling, she reached back and lifted Viola down and onto her lap. The cat had very much despised her from the beginning, but once she figured out that Bayonetta was the owner with the treats her opinion changed in a heartbeat. Viola circled around and took a seat, mewling with a question.

“No, I won’t be getting rest tonight, Kitty.” Bayonetta answered, letting her hand dangle like a carrot on a stick. Viola took the cue and  instantly began nuzzling it, trying to show some affection to her. “But thank you for the concern.”

Returning her attention to the book, she continued on into the night. The dull green and reds of the Christmas Tree in the background caught her eye briefly, and she smiled.

Tomorrow was gift buying day. With a friend, no less.

…

Bayonetta placed yet another box onto the ever-growing pile of presents that Enzo was somehow still holding. The short fat man was struggling from the volume of them and it somewhat impressed her that he could still carry them all, let alone walk.

“You know what I have forgotten, Enzo? I need to buy something for myself. This whole day will be wasted if all I am doing is buying gifts for my illustrious friends.” She fiddled with the lollipop in her mouth, knowing full well that Luka was probably restocking the jar on his kitchen counter as she spoke. The Witch could almost hear his complaints about her habits in her mind and her lips curled into a smile.

“Another thing you have forgotten? It’s not like we haven’t made a million fucking stops already!” Enzo replied, irate. “First, we have the thousands of presents you’ve gotta get for your little group of friends, then we had the millions of people who show up to talk to you, because you’re the biggest fucking celebrity in town right now, and we still haven’t done anything I wanted to do yet? Don’t you know what it is in one week from now? Christmas! The season of motherfucking spreading joy and merriment, and I ain’t feeling any joy yet!”

“I need some heels without guns.” The white pair she wore suited the white dress and hat she wore, but nothing else. Every other pair was combat oriented with ugly slots for her guns. Speaking of which, Rodin had a delivery to make to her today. Bayonetta had kept an eye out for the gunsmith’s inevitable appearance, but she figured that the man would probably find her first.

“Did you really not hear a fucken’ word I said!? No more stops for you! I need to get my children the model jet airplane that everyone wants now, or I’m gonna be the biggest mutt in the city!”

“I know, Enzo. You still haven’t shut up about it. And besides, it's not like you have a week to go and grab it then.” Bayonetta began to walk onwards and away from the perfume shop. Keeping her eyes peeled for a shoe store, she heard the man beginning to trot after her. “Or even weeks before today as well!”

“It was only just released today! And not only that, it’s a limited edition jet! That shit is gonna sell out before I even get a chance to buy one at this fucking rate.” Enzo sighed loudly. “This is why I can’t have good things. Why am I the one stuck carrying the presents!? Surely you have other friends who are-”

“Jeanne has her own life to take care of, no one has heard from Damien for a fortnight and I prefer not to use Cheshire as a shopping cart,” she took the lollipop out of her mouth and pointed it back at him. “You, however, were free and you owed me.”

“Yeah right I owed you… You still owe me for the car! Twice!”

“Are you ever going to collect on those debts?” Bayonetta turned around, still keeping the candy pointed at him. Enzo muttered something about ‘bullshit Witches’ and shook his head. “I certainly did not think so.”

Placing the candy back in her mouth, she spotted a shoe store across the road and immediately beelined towards it.

“You’re a real piece of work, don’t you know that? If you weren’t already on your way to Inferno, you’d be well on your way with the shit you pull!” He yelled after her, startling some passers-by. “Dressing up like a nun so you can off some Angels and keep the Underworld happy!”

“Enzo, I really don’t need you shouting my life’s story to everyone in town.”

“Yeah, but why-” A present fell onto his face, quietening him for the time being. Bayonetta snorted at the struggling man and continued onwards to Heels R Us to see a completely unexpected sight.

A familiar face walked out of the store, an uncomfortable expression on her. She exhaled deeply once the automatic doors closed behind her and her features softened considerably. Her black outfit was a form-fitting, yet loose, frilly jumpsuit that hung on her body from a choker around her neck. The legs section flared out at her thighs and her shoulders were bare. Everything else was wrapped in black, covering her pale flesh from both prying eyes and the sun.

Bayonetta remembered buying that outfit. Its wearer had torn up her previous red line of clothing in what she described as ‘an attempt to get a new wardrobe’. She was very certain that they all reminded her friend of Balder and she didn’t want to remember her past.

A smile broke out onto her face and she waved from the other side of the street. “Jeanne!”

Her Umbran sister was startled momentarily, but she recovered swiftly and crossed the street. Her long, platinum hair trailed behind her in the wind, whereas the bang that covered her right eye shifted around to show that Jeanne was very happy to see her. There wasn’t a smile on her face, however.

Small steps, Bayonetta. Small steps. She reminded herself.

“Cereza!” Jeanne awkwardly waved back in greeting. Shopping bags, wrapped gifts and boxed items were clutched in her hands, held tightly and swaying in the air from the sudden movement. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Bayonetta peered at her friend, noting just how much more lively she appeared. “You’re looking much better since I last saw you.”

“I- oh- Thank you.” Jeanne blushed and found something very interesting on the sidewalk to look at. “It’s all still very much a work in progress, but Doctor Atyrell says that it should be fine for me to start doing more mundane tasks in public.”

Aside from the obvious post-traumatic stress disorder, Jeanne was also diagnosed with social anxiety as both a symptom of the former and a category of its own. Bayonetta admitted that it was surprising to hear that, but if she really thought about it? It made a hell of a lot of sense. The former Heiress had been constantly pushed beyond her limits by both her mother and her own expectations brought about by her, leading to the woman demanding perfection in every aspect of her life.

A recent example was when Luka and herself visited one day and Jeanne accidentally burnt the roast she was preparing. Everyone else was ready to laugh it off and order food instead, but she almost began literally beating herself up for ‘not being good enough’ and a ‘failure to her family’s name.’

She was told by the Therapist to leave almost all tasks to her friends and roommate. Bayonetta could tell that Jeanne hated this situation that had essentially left her completely powerless, but upon every subsequent meeting and visit she could tell that the Doctor’s orders were working in helping Jeanne relax.

“Oh! That’s great news!” She gave the bags in her hands a very pointed look. “Is that why you are out Christmas shopping?”

“I wasn’t sure if you all were going to celebrate. None of us are religious-”

“Do you not remember my job?”

Jeanne’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “My point is, Christmas wasn’t exactly an Umbran tradition. I felt that it was better to be safe than sorry.”

“Gifting each other presents is the least important part of Christmas. What is important is that we get to spend time with each other as a family.” Bayonetta took the lollipop out of her mouth and twirled it between her fingers. “Speaking of family, why isn’t Damien helping you?”

“He’s still on a job for Devil May Cry. He called at least three weeks ago to say that something had come up and he wasn’t coming back until it was solved.” She shrugged. “This isn’t exactly abnormal behaviour for him and I can handle myself.”

“You’re barely holding onto what you have.”

“I can handle myself.” Jeanne firmly repeated herself.

Bayonetta rolled her eyes and held a hand out. “Come on Jeanne. You don’t have to do everything alone.”

The Witch in black sighed and began handing her everything in her right hand. The effects of it on Jeanne were instantaneous; now she had a much more dignified posture and didn’t look like she was about to drop everything if someone bumped into her. Glancing down into the bag from Heels R Us, she saw a gorgeous pair of black heels that were covered in silver sequins and black rhinestones.

“Oh, these are gorgeous!” Bayonetta voiced her sentiment. Slyly, she looked up to see Jeanne blushing madly. “Are they for-”

“Yes. Now shut up.”

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing whenever we talk about her?”

“Cereza! Please stop!” The Witch was mortified, but she instantly recovered by narrowing her eyes. “What are you going to give Redgrave?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Bayonetta shrugged and began to continue towards the shoe store. “And I’ve already gotten him an apron.”

Jeanne just stared at her, confused. “An apron?”

“It has ‘kiss the cook’ on it. Isn’t that just hilarious?”

“No? Cereza, he’ll hate it.”

“That’s the point.”

“I don’t understand.” Jeanne shook her head after a moment. She exhaled and pursed her lips. “Even though we did not celebrate Christmas, sharing and receiving proper gifts was a tradition in the Umbra during meetings between families.”

“For you in the upper echelons of society, maybe. Besides, Cheshire has told me explicitly that he doesn’t care if I do or don’t get him something, so I figured something we can all laugh at is better than making him feel pressured to follow up in kind.” Bayonetta explained, hiding her disappointment in her friend behind a soft smile.

“Is that because you believe that or because he’s short on money?”

She smirked. Luka wasn’t exactly rolling in money, but he could afford to splurge if he really wanted to. But Bayonetta absolutely did not want to give him an inkling of an idea that she wanted expensive gifts of any kind; after what the pair of them had been through, he did not need to prove himself to her by trying to buy her favor. “I will not answer that.”

“Yeah, that’s real fucken’ funny!” Enzo appeared to have removed the offending gift from his face. A pile of presents sat beside him and the man was huffing and puffing with exertion. “You know what isn’t fucken’ funny? Me on my way to becoming the biggest mutt in the city!”

Jeanne gave the man a withering glare. “Have you felt anything strange recently, Cereza?”

“Now that you mention it, I still haven’t figured out how a broke, bumbling undertaker managed to turn himself into a respectable family man.” Bayonetta tapped her chin with a finger from her free hand. The lollipop went back into her mouth and she savoured the cherry flavour. She had forgotten to grab any refills when she stole this one, so it was her last candy until she returned home. “It completely boggles the mind, if I’m being honest.”

“Fuhgeddaboudit!” He retorted. “Now that your ug- friend is here, you can entertain yourselves while I go and do my own thing! Sayo-fucking-nara!”

Turning on his heel, the man walked towards a toy shop and left the two Witches and the presents behind.

“I do wonder too,” Jeanne’s icy voice trailed after him. “But no, that is not what I am referring to.”

“Then what are you?”

“Your eyes, Cereza; they look tired.” Her voice was small. “Have you been sleeping well recently or at all?”

The vision flashed through her mind again and she flinched. She better tell the truth at this point; there was no way to hide that. “No. I’ve been getting these… visions of something.”

“Visions? You can call them what they are; nightmares.” Jeanne gave her a flat look. “From what Doctor Atyrell has told me, it's not uncommon for people like… us to get them.”

“These aren’t nightmares. I have no idea what I’m watching half of the time and Dante’s blue guy is there.”

“The blue guy?” Now the concern was back on her face. “How do you know?”

“It’s a guy who is completely blue. I have no idea what else to call them.” Bayonetta hesitated, realising just how ridiculous that sounded. “But whether or not it’s the same blue guy as Dante’s is something we would have to ask him.”

“Unfortunately, I agree. For how long have you been having these?”

Bayonetta cast her mind back to when they first appeared. It was just after Damien had returned from his fourth trip, so about; “Three months ago. That’s definitely when they started.”

“That’s a coincidence. I haven’t heard anything from our friends in Inferno for three months.” Jeanne narrowed her eyes and glanced around the street. “And I also haven’t seen an Angel in three months.”

Madama Butterfly had been conspicuously silent ever since those visions started. She barely answered when called upon, opting for short and succinct answers.

Bayonetta obviously didn’t know any better, but every time her patron spoke to her it sounded like the Demon was in immense pain. She followed her sister’s actions and tapped her glasses to quickly peer into Purgatorio. As usual, nothing was there. Just as it had been for the past three months.

Bayonetta walked forward, her Left Eye beginning to whisper to her. A strong gust howled through the street, blowing her hat off and sending it flying high into the sky.

“The Eye is a little… tempered.” She held a hand out and caught her hat, placing it back onto her head. “Something is still very much wrong, but it can’t tell me what.”

Jeanne glanced at her, ending her surveillance of the street. “I can still sense the Right Eye in this world. But, there’s something off about it. Like I can’t pinpoint exactly where it is.”

Ever since Balder died and Jubileus was sealed into Inferno under Jeanne’s care, Bayonetta had expected to never feel the pulse of the Right Eye of the world again. But, somehow it persisted. She wanted to search for it, but had no idea where to start. Or how to start. The only person who had managed to figure out its original location was Enzo, and that was specifically because Balder had essentially told him. It seemed that Jeanne shared that sentiment.

“I should have told you this long ago, but I’ve never felt the Eye go away. I never really got a chance to explain myself or figure out how to search for it.” Bayonetta grimaced, expecting to see Jeanne looking at her with disappointment.

She wasn’t. “I don’t mind. My reaction to that news then would have been… disastrous. Now? I’m not surprised it’s not gone yet.”

There was still a small tremor in her voice. The damage that Bader had wrecked upon her psyche was, simply put, massive. Luka’s theory of why Cutie J only ever operated at night was because Jeanne simply could not or refused to sleep was a very small part of this, but along with the entire wardrobe change there was several small idiosyncrasies that Jeanne now had that could be directly tied to those one hundred years in figurative hell. Or even the five hundred years previously of being on the run.

She couldn’t be near men by herself for extended periods of time. The only exception was Damien and even then, Bayonetta could see that Jeanne wasn’t comfortable around him in more intimate moments.

Spoons terrified her and she flat out would refuse to eat foods that either required them or if they were in sight. Absolutely no one knew why, but they all came to a silent agreement not to ask.

There had been several occasions where Jeanne had frozen up while doing some basic task and just stared off into space with a dazed look in her eye. Bayonetta was no expert, but to her it seemed that the Heiress had simply forgotten that she could move her limbs or that she didn’t realise she was no longer trapped in her own body.

Besides the shouting match, most of the conflict in the De’Arc household had been solved by Jeanne simply withdrawing into herself and silently begging that it would simply go away.

Some of this had been addressed by the therapy, partially. But Bayonetta knew it was a very slippery slope back down. The statement that Jeanne learning that the Eye still existed would be disastrous? It was very much an understatement. No one was really sure if Balder had actually died, so any proof that pointed towards the Sage still living on this world-

He was dead. There was no possible way the man had survived the assimilation into Jubileus and her vessels’ destruction.

“But,” Brushing her hair to her back, Jeanne looked at her with both eyes. “We will discuss this soon. Not here. And not today.”

“I agree. Let’s just get to Christmas and survive whatever ridiculous party Dante decides to throw.” Bayonetta smiled. “Do you have something you would like to bring food-wise?”

The Witch in black’s eyes widened. “Shit. I… What do people bring to a Christmas party!?”

“Jeanne, don’t fret too much. Just bring something ridiculous like caviar and absolutely no one will care. At the very least they will all be drunker than a skunk and not really care about what’s on the table in front of them.” A thought came to her. “Are you still abstaining?”

“I am and have been for a full month now. Caviar, correct?” Jeanne calmed down considerably and a very tiny smile broke out on her face. “I will not fail.”

Bayonetta sighed as the Witch turned on her heel and walked into the ground. “You don’t have to do your best for everything, Jeanne. Just being there is enough for us.”

But, at least she was smiling again. The last time she had seen her friend genuinely smile was a little over five hundred years ago.

…

Enzo leaned on the counter and pointed to the outside of the store. “Ya hear that? That’s what I want! One of those! I want a jet!”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we do not have any more of those in stock.” The clerk swallowed, still attempting to be polite.

“Then what are those fucking things behind the counter then? Barbie dolls?”

“Sir, those are reserved for our customers that have already paid for them. They are not for sale to the general public.” The voice was tightening up, struggling to keep calm.

“I will pay double-”

“Sir…”

“Triple!”

“Sir!”

“Quadruple!”

“Sir, they are not for sale! It is against our policies to sell products that are currently held on preorder, no matter what the circumstances, to other customers! Please do not ask again!” Somehow, the clerk managed to keep calm, only exploding his anger in fast paced sentences.

“Arthur!” Another clerk popped out from the back, their head wide in a smile. “The extra stock for the FS-Seventeen has arrived!”

The clerk at the counter let out a huge sigh of relief. “If you buy one, will you leave?”

“Just wrap the damn plane in a box. With a big ribbon too!” Enzo turned around and smirked. “My kids are going to love it.”

Something caught his eyes on the street. People were running in fear, screaming and getting off the main road.

“You know what? Make it quick, will you?”

A plane, an actual version of the model he was buying, was flying dangerously low to the ground. It seemed to drop lower and lower, almost as if-

“Forget the damn ribbon! FORGET THE DAMN RIBBON!”

…

Bayonetta slid in front of the toy shop, glaring at the offending plane. She sensed Enzo’s panic dim down from behind her, and the Eye informed her that the people on the street were now out of the way. Everyone was relatively safe, unless the plane was going to turn into the buildings.

Butterfly? Do you know anything about this?

‘Not… now…’ She definitely was in pain. ‘Don’t… know…’

“You all must know…” She growled, her hat flying off from the blasting winds. “I try to avoid doing this in my Sunday best.”

Giving the jet a swift kick, it flew up into the air, spiralling out of control. Bayonetta crouched, then launched herself after it. Activating Witch Walk, she landed onto the right wing and surveyed the empty space in front of her.

“And I certainly have not missed any of you lot.” A portal to Purgatorio opened in front of her and she dove through it. Blades and projectiles passed at her, slicing through the dress and sending the rags off and into the sky. Rolling past a few more slices, she rolled into a three point stance. The cold air whipped and bit at her naked body, but she smirked and stood up while turning around. The weather didn’t bother her; the loss of her new favourite dress did.

Bayonetta finally saw the Angels for the first time and the best she could describe them was that they resembled centaurs. Their bodies were elongated and on four legs, colored porcelain white like the ones she was familiar with.  The front half built up into a torso, or specifically it grew into a head sized torso. Two arms poked out from where the ears would be (which is why she called it a torso) and held a variety of harps, swords and axes. Bayonetta assumed that the harps were similar to the trumpet guns used by the Affinity before. Considering one was drawing back a golden arrow on the strings, she probably was right.

“Well, you all seem very quick to get a girl out of her clothes.” She put her hands on her hips and gave them a smirk. Her hair began to weave down, wrapping around her body and limbs to form her Umbran battle suit. Instead of it being the black, sleek suit that she wore before, it was now navy blue in coloration with a poncho style cloak wrapped around her upper body. Her legs were now more exposed with diamond-pattern trails running up the sides. Two pads accentuated her shoulders and her white gloves now had frills that flourished from the hem of them. It wasn’t as sleek as her previous outfit, but she felt far more comfortable in something she could truly call her own design.

Bayonetta let two guns drop from Inferno into her hands. Unfortunately, the Scarborough Fair was not what answered her; her old guns were currently being upgraded by Rodin, so she had to make do with mortal weaponry.

The gunsmith better make his entrance fast and soon.

An Angel went flying from a whip yanking it off the jet. They all turned to see Jeanne flinging herself up with another crack, twisting in the air in a graceful loop and landing beside her in a crouch.

“This interruption is just the worst,” the Witch flicked the Vritria back to herself, wrapping it back into a loop. “And to think they stayed quiet for so long.”

“You came back pretty quickly.” Bayonetta commented, slipping the pair onto the backs of her heels. Another dropped out from Inferno and she felt somewhat complete once more.

“Forgot the Caviar. The supermarket is the other way.”

She rolled her eyes. The lie was superficial, but surely Jeanne would have gotten used to the layout of the city by now. “Well, these are all new to me. Have you-”

“No. I’ve never seen or heard of these variants before.” Jeanne curled her lip in distaste at the sight of her. “How far along is Rodin with those guns? You’re going to need them.”

“I’ll make do.” She peered at Jeanne’s lower half. “By the way, your pants…”

The Witch glanced down and shrieked, immediately hiding the rip along her buttocks by slamming herself against her own backside. Bayonetta rolled her eyes, but gave her a comforting pat on her back.

“There’s no one to see you up here.” She jested.

“It doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take the spotlight off of you today.” She stepped forward and pointed her guns at the Angels. “Come on boys, let's have a waltz!”

…

Enzo struggled with his car as he watched the chaos seemingly unfold above him. Which was the damn key he needed? Not that one, definitely not that one-

A crashing sound rocked the buildings around him and he fell into the corvette, screaming.

“Just my fucking luck!” He cursed as he fumbled with his keys and tried to flop himself upright. “Why now, of all days? Just fucking why?”

A footstep somehow echoed through the city, breaking through the chaos like a light in the darkness. Enzo turned to it and his face paled.

“R-Ro-“ He swallowed. “Rodin?”

“Enzo, you deadbeat motherfucker,” Rodin grabbed a cigar from the man's pocket and lit it with a click of his fingers. He was wearing a Santa hat and a fake beard and was carrying a sack on his back. “Now, I’m feeling very generous today and I’m not going to hound you on your debt. But you need to give old Santa here a ride.”

“But I don’t believe in Santa!” Enzo replied in disbelief.

The bartender sighed and leaned down, blowing smoke into his face. “Angels have walked this Earth, you are talking to a Demon and you are acquainted with the most powerful beings on the planet. And you believe that Santa isn’t real? Who do you think started the legend?”

“I don’t know, some fucking guy called Nick?”

“Hmph.” Rodin shoved him to the side and got in front of the wheel. “Watch and learn who did, buddy.”

Touching the wheel, the car unnaturally revved to life. Speeding off, Rodin used a parked car as an impromptu ramp and launched the car at the side of the building, landing onto it and driving on it like nothing.

“C’mon, where are you…” He was scanning the skies, completely ignoring the panicking man next to him.

“How are you fucking doing this!?” Enzo screamed, holding onto the car for dear life. “I don’t wanna die!”

“There you are.” Rodin stomped the floor and the car jumped off the building, flipping and turning to land on a perpendicular street. The man screamed again, now holding onto his chair with a vice-like deathgrip.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING DIE!”

…

Bayonetta hurled the remains of her handguns into a nearby centaur-Angel, knocking it off the jet. She pressured another away  with a few kicks and turned to Jeanne. “Are you done changing yet?”

“Did they really only last a few seconds?” She popped up, tossing the black outfit into Inferno. Her own Umbran battlesuit was now covering her body, an almost identical copy of her own. Jeanne scowled at the remains of one gun that had sat on her heels and readied her katana with a roll of her eyes. “Useless mortal trash.”

“Come on Jeanne, give them a little credit.” Bayonetta leaped over a swinging halberd and landed onto the back of an Angel. Slapping its rear end, she sent it charging towards a pack of Laguna and jumped off right before it barreled through them. “Besides, it’s not like I really need a weapon. And you aren’t helping yet either!”

“Just because these fodder are terribly easy it does not mean we let our guard down.” The Witch darted forward and sliced through a pair of Angels, kicking at another to push it away from the small space of the Jet. It simply sprouted wings from the back of its torso head and flapped off into a V formation with dozens more of itself. “The more prepared we are, the better off we will be.”

“That is true; this seems far too organised for a simple attack.” Jeanne slipped back to her side, holding the katana defensively with both hands. Something caught Bayonetta’s eye from the left and she saw a gigantic Angel burst from a building. It was screaming bloody murder, swiping at the plane with elongated claws from two arms that sat behind its frilled headpiece. She managed to push the former heiress off and out of harm’s way, but now she was the one flying out of control on a spinning piece of the Jet.

“CORONZON!” Another Angel roared, and she caught a glimpse of another gigantic being bursting through another building. This one was carrying a sword and shield, brandishing both at her. “You will be punished for your sins against Jubilieus!”

Do they ever fucking stop?

‘No…’

Bayonetta leaped off the plane, aiming towards a speeding train below her. If she were to fight these new threats, she would prefer mobility over being stuck on a building. Arcing gracefully over a swipe from the sword, she looked down to see a car driving along the wall of the building.

…

“I believe…” Enzo was madly saying to himself. “I fucking believe!”

Rodin glimpsed something exploding out of the building behind him, but paid no attention to it. Bayonetta was within reach and she needed to get the package he had to deliver. Standing up in the driver’s seat, he grabbed the sack and pulled it open.

“Take the wheel, Enzo.”

“What!?” The man scrambled over to keep the car moving straight. “What do you fucking mean take the wheel? I can’t fucking drive a magic car!”

“Please, Enzo, it’s not that difficult.” Grabbing a blue box from the sack, he tossed both up. “Bayonetta! Catch!”

The sack disappeared into the air while the present was snatched up by its intended owner. Bayonetta gave him a surprised look, which turned into a wink of thanks. Rodin folded his arms with satisfaction and tried very hard not to scratch at the fake beard on his chin.

The car swerved wildly and then launched itself off the side of the building, roaring through the air with chaotic abandon.

“I FUCKING BELIEVE!” Enzo was screaming; whether it was in joy or fear was another question. Rodin didn’t really care. He simply jumped from the convertible and landed on the ground next to a haphazardly piled mountain of gifts. The cigar was pulled from his lips and he breathed out a cloud of smoke.

“So did your master plan include all of this, Khepri?” He whispered to himself. Holding one hand out, he caught a boxed model jet and pulled it down to his side. “Or is this a little ‘oversight’ you didn’t bother to tell me about because I didn’t choose you?”

The car landed with a crash, Enzo thudding into the seat shortly after. Rodin didn’t bother checking on whether the man was alright; he had a debt to pay and he wasn’t visiting the afterlife until he did so.

…

The box spilled open as she fell onto the train and the four guns clattered over the roof. She cushioned her fall with a roll, snagging two of them and slipped them onto her heels.

“Typical Rodin. Couldn’t aim even if his life depended on it.” Bayonetta grabbed the last two and inspected them. Scarborough Fair’s double barrel and red and white design was long gone; a single barrel encased in blue paint and gold trims was their design now. She had asked for something with a bit more ‘oomph’ and it seemed that Rodin’s response was to simply make each bullet of a higher caliber. “But these will do very fine.”

More bodies landed onto the train and she tore herself away from her musings to see more of the centaur Angels surrounding her. A smirk broke out on her face as she took her stance.

“And not a better time to get testing with them.”

Bayonetta pulled the trigger and the recoil made her smile. The explosion of gore from the Angel widened it.

“Absolutely perfect.”

Tossing herself forward, she slammed into the closest Angel with a dropkick. The guns fired in short burst and obliterated through the porcelain skin, revealing a mechanical-

What?

She twisted off and frowned at the beings. Damien had told her that Sapientia had mechanical aspects to it, but it was still wholly a living creature. These were machines through and through.

“Cereza!” Jeanne crunched an Angel down, moving her Kali from her feet back to her hands. The last of the Laguna fell quickly after, leaving just the two alone. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that these Angels aren’t what they seem.”

“You don’t say.” She held her guns up with a wide smile. “Look what I have! I’m going to call these guns ‘Love is Blue.’ Seems fitting, right?”

“What, because they are blue?” Jeanne scoffed with a roll of her eyes.  “Surely you have more important things to be worrying about than the bloody names of your weapons right now!”

“Have you not heard the song? Come on Jeanne.” She sauntered to her friend while placing her hand on her hips. “Robot Angels they may be, but they aren’t more difficult than the flesh ones.”

The train shook as a tremor rippled through it. Glancing back at the end of the train, they saw a familiar but unfamiliar Angel charging at them.

It was a circular torso with a cherubim face framed in the centre. Two arms grew down from where its legs should have been, acting as them by seemingly tossing the Angel forward with every step. On its right side was a long, whip-like tentacle that was grabbing onto the end of the train, dragging it further forward towards them.

“Of course, it had to be a tentacle.” Bayonetta shivered.

“Who are you? Actually, scratch that; what the fuck are you?” Jeanne pointed at it with Angel Slayer, stepping out. “And why are you attacking us now?”

“The Heiress of Destiny. The Arch Eve.” It gurgled, similar to Iustitia and Beloveds. “Much hate flows through Paradiso at the sight of you both.”

Those names again. The last time she heard them was from Jubileus; neither Rodin, Butterfly or Khepri could tell her what they meant.

Or refused to.

“And so it should. But I really don’t have the patience for your little name game that you continue to drabble on about.” Bayonetta pointed Love is Blue at its face and fired a few warning shots. The bullets exploded against the porcelain skin, marring it with black ash.

“You will die Coronzon!”

“You’ve got a fat chance in hell of that happening.” She smirked in reply, drawing herself into her stance. “Did you really want to play that badly?”

The Angel ripped the train upward, derailing it and tossing them back from the sudden shift in momentum. Jeanne was the first to recover, twirling her legs and landing onto a car. Bayonetta did the same, reflexively calling for Madama Butterfly to deliver a few wicked weaves at the Angel. But again, she did not answer. Rolling her eyes while her sister jumped forward and sliced through a few stray carriages to reach the Angel itself.

‘Don’t… worry… about… me…’

Swallowing, she began to jump from sliced carriage to sliced carriage. The tentacle whipped out at Jeanne and Bayonetta dived over it so she wasn’t collateral damage. Bringing her guns around to bear, she took aim at the joint connecting the arm to its body.

Jeanne proceeded to jump into the way, shockwaves flinging off her katana. They slammed with concussive force into the Laguna, pushing it back in a retreat. Grunting in frustration, Bayonetta rolled her eyes and took off into a sprint, trying to circle around to get a clear shot at its legs. Evidently Damien was not the only one being taught new tricks.

It didn’t take her long to find a better point. The former Heiress was spinning around, releasing a continuous spiral shockwave that was knocking it up in a whirlwind. Taking aim once more, she fired twice into the right leg. The bullets, but honestly it was more appropriate to call them shells, exploded and ripped the mechanical limb off.

The Angel shrieked, tumbling now in Jeanne’s whirlwind. The Witch halted her movement, switching the katana out for her whip again. It cracked through the air, wrapping around the remaining leg’s ankle. She landed on the bridge and heaved with all her might, tossing the Laguna off and towards a nearby building.

Bayonetta reached out to her contracted Demons, trying to get a feel on who was available. To her surprise, one seemed completely unaffected by the funk the others were in. Sprinting, she grabbed Jeanne and pulled her towards the flying Angel.

“Come on, Jeanne!” She leaped up and beat the Angel there. Jeanne was a distant second, shaking her head.

“I don’t have-”

“I do!” She twirled and twisted her body in a dance, letting her Umbran power fill her for the first time in three months. “AVAVAGO!”

Her hair flew from her body, swarming up and then down into the side of the building. Red lights erupted from behind her as a portal to Inferno opened and an old friend roared their way out.

The Angel stood no chance; it landed directly into the open jaws of Gommorah and was crushed with one bite. The Demon tossed it up and snapped down hard. This time, the Angel broke into shards of stone and metal and the remaining chunks screamed in pain and defiance.

“Finish them!” She commanded, not bothering to look back in annoyance. Gommorah answered with a bellow and one final chomp. Silence reigned when the Angel’s voice was abruptly cut off.

“Huh. Not even a challenge,” she glanced at Jeanne and shook her head in disappointment. “So much for upgrades.”

The red light turned blue. Bayonetta instantly frowned; her magic, and every Umbra Witch she could remember, was always red in tint. What was going on?

‘Cere-’ A pained cry erupted from Butterfly and her stomach dropped; someone, or something, was hurting her patron. ‘Watch-’

Butterfly screamed in agony and her eyes frantically darted to Jeanne’s. “What the-”

“CEREZA!”

She barely managed to turn around and register that Gomorrah was untethered to her hair and swinging their mighty fist at her before she was flying through the air.

She did manage to look back and helplessly watch the Demon’s fist connecting with Jeanne. Her head snapped back and Bayonetta knew her neck was instantly broken. The body ragdolled and fell from the building, slamming against the ground with a faint smack.

Jeanne’s soul remained. It bounced once, then tumbled in a long roll until it stopped about twenty metres away.

Then she too landed onto the building and crashed straight through a window.

…

Cereza was safe. That was the important part.

Jeanne felt her body break when Gommorah hit her. To her surprise, dying wasn’t that painful; if anything it felt like a shove that Damien would give her during one of their sparring sessions.

But how had the Demon broke free? And how did Cereza summon him? Neither of them were able to reach their contracted for three months! So how-

‘Jeanne!’ Styx’s voice finally reached her. The Demoness seemed to be panicking. ‘What happened? Some repulsive being ambushed me three months ago and-’

Her voice became very small and very out of character. ‘Oh no, this cannot be! That was their plan?’

It was a setup. Something had wanted to kill Cereza and they had played straight into their hands.

Jeanne’s eyes widened as a blue portal opened underneath her. Limbs belonging to her various contracted reached up and grabbed onto her.

‘Jeanne, I will find you. You have more roles to play-’

Who gives a shit!? Fucking help me!

‘I cannot! I want to but I-’

She screamed, her voice warped from being a spectre, and struggled against the arms. Cereza was sprinting towards her. If she could make it-

“I won’t let it end like this!” Jeanne gasped out, managing to get one arm free. She reached out towards her sister.

‘I will not either!’ Styx frantically promised. ‘Jeanne, trust me, I will not let some blue blotch decide the fate of my contracted!’

Her fatal mistake was slackening her limbs in shock at what her patron said. The Demons underneath her heaved down in a final surge and she felt her body enter Inferno.

…

Her hand barely brushed Jeanne’s before the portal closed with her friend with it. The Witch just sat there on her knees, staring with shock and horror at nothing.

“No…”

Bayonetta was shaking and her hand was still reaching out to nothing. She should have been faster. She could have been faster.

“NO!”

She wasn’t dead. This was another horrible nightmare vision that the Eye was giving her. She was going to wake up and go shopping tomorrow with Enzo and hopefully run into a very alive Jeanne that wasn’t dead and-

Gommorah roared into the sky and it began to turn red. Crimson lightning rippled through the clouds, striking into nearby buildings and melting through the glass and steel like a hot knife through butter.

This was no dream.

Fury enveloped her and Bayonetta whirled around while straightening up. Her left eye felt like it was about to burst and her face had to be contorting into pure hatred.

“You bastard! You fucking bastard!”

“Puny Witch…” Gommorah growled, climbing out of the portal fully. Its hind feet gripped onto the building, ripping apart everything with ease. She was somewhat surprised the Demon was still staying on the wall and not falling down to Earth-

She spoke too soon. The building gave way and Gommorah latched onto the wall, swarming and wrapping around it like a snake. Bayonetta flipped out of the way and kept her eye on it. The Demon roared into the sky and the sky answered with red lightning.

“I’m not one for pets who betray their masters.” She hissed, calling out to Malphas to grant her the power of their wings. To no surprise, the Demonic bird did not answer.

“There is no help coming for you, puny Witch.” It looked down upon her with angry red eyes, seemingly grinning with its canine jaw. “We have all wanted a piece of you ever since we made our contracts. Every one of us.”

That was how they all worked, but Bayonetta had no intentions of visiting Inferno any time soon. “Well, you will just have to fucking wait your turn then!”

“And now we were given the opportunity to take what is rightfully ours! Why would we not take it!?”

The Demon tore chunks off the building and began tossing them at her. Bayonetta sprinted to the sides and felt each piece smash behind her with enough force to throw her off balance.

She fucking needed a Demon of her own.

Jumping to the opposite building, she trained her guns onto the Demon and began firing. Explosions from the shells ripped into its skin and flesh, but appeared to be doing little to no damage to it. Gommorah held two more chunks of the building and roared at her. Red energy began coalescing around its mouth and fired out in a laser.

The building began to explode behind her. Jumping off, she found Gommorah doing the same opposite her. The two chunks of building dropped from its hands and it opened its jaw wide in an attempt to swallow her.

‘I’ve… got… someone… they... will... help...

An incantation was whispered into her mind and Bayonetta found herself smirking for once. Giving the Demon a wink, she pushed herself down and plummeted towards the ground.

“ARGEDCO!” She cried out, imploring Inferno for an answer. Just this once.

And they answered, her hair flying off to form a portal behind her. A chorus of… meows ripped through the air, giving both herself and Gommorah pause. The Demon closed its mouth and looked behind itself in both trepidation and confusion.

Five cats fell out of a portal and savagely began tearing into the renegade. They swarmed its head, ripping and biting into any visible weak point or exposed flesh; which was the whole thing. Gommorah bellowed in pain and tried to knock any of its assailants off with massive swipes of its paws. The cats were quick to notice its lumbering strikes and simply ran off, trailing down towards its tail.

“Mistress,” One called out to her. “Shall we destroy this interloper?”

There was no hesitation in her answer. “Do it.”

The five cats hissed in answer and all jumped off the falling Demon, disappearing in a white flash of light. When that faded, the true form of her latest contracted was revealed.

The Demon had three heads; one was situated in the normal spot for a head atop the torso. A lion-like mane formed from leather flared out around its neck, protecting several beady red eyes. Two elongated, thick red fangs framed its mouth and a purple tongue flickered between the rest of its teeth. The other two heads shared the same traits, but these were on its forelegs, taking the place of the paws. She couldn’t see the other two, but she assumed the hind legs were where the rest of the litter ended up. The majestic creature roared at the falling Demon beneath it and Bayonetta could sense the fear emanating from it.

“How can you be here!?”

“We serve those with the power. Especially her.”

The two Demons began to bite and snap at each other, both attempting to tear out their opponent’s throat. Gommorah’s larger head and stronger body seemed to give them the initial edge in the struggle, using pure power to batter into and through the flesh of the Demon. Her contracted’s three visible heads, however, made up for this detriment by being faster and more nimble than its adversary. It attacked from every direction, forcing Gommorah onto the back foot more often than not. They were evenly matched, even though the traitorous Infernal was still underneath its assailant.

‘Earth!’

Right. The ground was a thing. Bayonetta flipped over and landed with a roll, letting the momentum carry her. Gommorah and the new Demon slammed into the ground shortly after. The shockwave tossed her away and a massive cloud of dust rose to hide them.

It didn’t last long. The wind from the Infernal storm blew it away to reveal Gommorah’s neck in the mouths of the Demon. It pulled up and the Demon’s head came with it, blood splattering through the street.

Bayonetta didn’t feel any remorse in watching one of her original Demons die.

“Mistress, we will serve you until our contract is fulfilled.” It spat out the limp head and regarded her with its main face. “Us Labolas are honorable creatures who will not betray you for empty promises.”

“Thank you, Labolas.” The information was filed and stored away. “I… Do you know what happened?”

“We do not. Only rumours are known to us. They do not bode well for you if they are true.”

“Then begone, for now. If you are my only available Infernal then I’m going to need you much later.” She cut the summon and the portal began to close.

“We are in agreement, Mistress. To the beginnings of our glorious partnership!”

The portal snapped shut and Bayonetta felt a wave of exhaustion pass through her. Opening another portal, she dragged herself towards it with dread. Stepping out of Purgatorio, she found Jeanne’s crumpled body lying on the ground nearby, each limb at unnatural angles. Choking out a sob, she sprinted to her and fell on her knees. Her hands grasped at Jeanne’s face and shoulders, trying to draw a reaction out of the body.

She wasn’t dead. Everything she saw was a trick of the light. Right?

Right.

“Jeanne, wake up.”

The body did not stir. It felt cold and clammy to the touch, limply following her movements.

“Jeanne, you better wake up.” Her voice was shaking. “Please.”

Silence answered.

“Wake up. No, you’re not dead. Wake up!”

‘Cereza…’ Butterfly’s voice was beginning to regain some of her strength. ‘Please…’

“You’re not dead! You can’t be dead!”

‘Stop… She’s…’

“No! Wake up! This silly joke has gone on long enough! Please!”

‘She’s dead.’

“NO! SHE’S NOT!”

A hand fell onto her shoulder. “Bayonetta, I’m sorry.”

She shoved Rodin away with a hard shove, not caring that the man went flying off and down the street. Grabbing her, she held the body tight as tears began to leak from her eyes.

“SHE’S NOT DEAD! SHE’S NOT- SHE’S JUST SLEEPING! I’M JUST SLEEPING! WAKE ME UP!”

“Bayonetta, stop.” The gunsmith pulled himself out of a car, shaking his head. “You’re not dreaming. Please, s-”

“NO!”

Her vision was becoming blurred. A sob ripped from her throat and she felt weak and pathetic. She let her friend die. Jeanne’s eyes stared off into space, but she swore that she was glaring at her, blaming her for what had befallen her.

And she would be right.

“Hey, what’s goin- Oh shit…” Enzo wheezed in shock. “Oh my fucking god, she’s dead.”

“SHUT UP! FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR OWN SAFETY, PLEASE KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT!”

“Okay, okay…”

What was she supposed to tell Damien?

What was she supposed to say to Luka?

How was she going to break the news to Trish?

Bayonetta stood up and ran, ignoring the cries of Rodin and the murmurs of shock from the slowly gathering crowd. Pushing past them all, she didn’t care where she was going. Or who she was pissing off.

She only wanted to be alone.

…

And so it all begins again.

Those who fought for their lives and the safety of the multiverse will need to fight further.

The Primordius of Reality each are now closely watching these events about to unfold, wondering if their taciturn nature will come back to haunt them.

The Harbinger of Wisdom believes that their decision to was right.

The Harbinger of Chaos wants aid for his world.

The Harbingers of Order and Judgement abstain from interference, both believing they are not necessary yet.

The Harbingers of Calamity, Life and Creation all believe in their faith in the Arch Eve’s abilities.

And the Harbingers of Time and Destruction have no voice, for they are both lost.

All will be revealed as destiny attempts to manifest by the force of the Enemy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Glimmers of Hope

...

The mood was sombre inside the empty Gates of Hell. The record player was silent and covered with a thin layer of dust, as Rodin did not believe that it was appropriate to have his normal tunes playing.

The centre of the room had been cleared and now housed a casket that Rodin was too familiar with for his own good. The healed, nude body of Jeanne lay inside, clutching her hands above her still heart. Her eyes were closed and her long hair covered almost every available surface inside, from the walls of her container to the exposed skin of her body.

“Well, now that she’s dead, naked and not talking? I can sorta see why people think she is pretty.” Enzo stroked his chin and shook his head, pulling it away from the box. “Nah, I still don’t see it.”

The gunsmith sighed and leaned on the counter. “She’s not dead. Not in the traditional sense. But at the rate everything is going? Jeanne may as well be.”

No one had seen Bayonetta for a week. She had, understandably, run away from civilisation when it became very apparent that her best friend was dead and there was seemingly nothing she could do about it. Processing grief was different to each person, but Rodin wished that a part of Bayonetta’s was taking some form of communication with her. He was fine with not wanting to be around other people when you needed time to get to grips with the current reality of the situation, but disappearing off the face of the Earth was really fucking annoying.

Luka shared his sentiments.

“Huh? Whaddya mean she’s not dead? She got punched by a Demon and her body fell off a skyscraper; if that didn’t kill the bitch, then what possibly will?”

Rodin stood back up and walked around the counter, picking up a silver Umbran Watch when he passed it. “When a Witch dies their soul is taken into Inferno; that you should know. If they had any pacts with Demons, then those get the first share of the meal. If, and only if, there’s any leftovers… Well, I think you get the idea.”

“Oh I get it, but that doesn’t tell me how or why she could be still alive!” Enzo poked the body in the coffin. “See? She’s dead. She ain’t coming back.”

“A person only dies if their soul leaves the trinity and passes onto the next world. This process, especially if the Patron Infernal is unprepared to reclaim their owed soul, can take up to two weeks.”

The short man frowned and looked into the coffin. “So you are telling me that if someone can find her soul, then she can come back to life?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to be cutting it real close.” Rodin opened the watch to see half of the trailing purple flames extinguished. “We are running out of time.”

“Well, you can get into Inferno, right? Why haven’t you gone downstairs yet and rescued her?” Enzo’s head turned to him with a frown. “Surely you-“

“I can’t.”

“What!? You mean to tell me that the all-powerful Rodin can’t do something? Why?”

He closed the watch and sighed. “Something is blocking me. All the normal paths into the Underworld have been sealed shut; the only ones left are the real Gates of Hell in Noatun and that pathway opened by the damn tree in Red Grave City.”

In an unexpected show of emotion, the weaponsmith slammed his fist down on a nearby table. “Going through that tree is guaranteed to be a one-way trip and Noatun is their domain. If it’s the person I think is behind all of this, then shit just got a lot more complicated.”

Enzo gulped. “How come?”

Rodin chuckled darkly. “Who do you think my best friend in Inferno is trying to outwit? Some random bastard? No, this guy is one persistent son of a bitch. If he has caught onto her in any way that’s possible, then this whole scenario and situation is fucked.”

…

The phone rang to a dial tone for the third time. Without hesitation the man holding it slammed the handpiece back onto the receiver and started repunching in the numbers.

“Come on…” He whispered to himself as the phone began to ring again. “Please, pick up.”

A click on the other end finally calmed him down slightly.

“Hello, welcome to Devil May Cry! Nero isn’t here right now, but my name is Kyrie and I can take a message if you want?” A cheerful voice answered.

“Oh- I’m Luka Redgrave, I’m a friend of Damien.” He rushed out before his emotions decided to get the better of him.

“Oh! I know of you, but I do not know you. Sorry!” Kyrie’s voice slowly became more disheartened. “I heard about what happened to Jeanne.”

The Witch’s crumpled body flashed through his mind. Luka flinched and his breathing hitched. “I…”

“I shouldn’t have brought that up so quickly. I’m really sorry for your loss.”

“It’s okay.” A lie. “I’m managing.” Another lie. “Does Damien know?”

“I don’t think he does.” Her voice was solemn. “He returned to Red Grave City with Nero about three weeks ago and when Nero came back, he wasn’t with him.”

Luka felt cold. “What do you mean, didn’t come back? What’s happening in Red Grave City?”

“You haven’t heard about the tree?”

“I have, but isn’t Dante dealing with that?” The strange tree that grew up and through the city on the west coast was the talk of the underground. For the rest of the world, it was just a movie set. Another cover-up in the same vein of Temen-Ni-Gru.

“Dante lost. Damien, Trish, Lady and he went into the tree to take out the Demon that summoned it. Nero and V went in after-“

“Who’s V?”

“A friend. He’s helping out with the whole situation. He’s got a personal stake in this situation and he’s…” Kyrie seemed to be struggling to find the words. “I’m not explaining this well, but he is with us to make sure we win. And we will.”

“But where is Damien? Bayonetta has gone missing and-” His voice choked up. Swallowing, Luka tried to calm himself again. His hand squeezed the armrest of the couch in an attempt to keep himself centred. “I need to know he’s safe.”

Kyrie was silent for a moment. “He’s okay. Damien isn’t with me right now, but he’s okay.”

Nero should have chosen a better business partner who could actually lie, especially if they were going to be manning the phones. Luka closed his eyes and very calmly spoke again. “Can I speak to Dante? Do you know where he is?”

“He’s… also not here right now.”

Luka very much wanted to scream and shout, but he knew that Kyrie did not deserve it. There was a very high chance that the poor woman was the unfortunate face of the situation and not being deliberately antagonistic. Sighing, he reopened his eyes and tried to keep himself calm.

“That’s fine. How long until Damien is able to talk?”

Kyrie hesitated again. “I can’t give an exact timeline, but it should be sooner rather than later. I hope.”

But he’s okay!?

“Thank you. When you catch up with him, tell him to call me.”

“I will.”

“Thank you again.”

The line clicked shut and Luka hurled the phone at the couch, barely remembering that he didn’t really have the money to buy a replacement. A pained cry erupted from his throat when he buried his face in his hands, openly crying and wailing for all to see and hear.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the heavens opened up. Rain began to tap at the windows, setting a rather poignant backdrop to his suffering.

Ha. Now he was thinking all ridiculous. Get a grip, Luka. You have to find Bayonetta and make sure she is mentally alright.

He had woken up a week ago, finding the lollipop jar half emptied yet again and a neatly written note about how he had to fulfill his end of the bargain. This was typical Bayonetta behaviour; she would ‘waste’ his money and time over her indulgences. Did Luka mind that much? Not really. His only real regret was when he worked out with the woman that he had been the one to inadvertently addict her to the candies.

“That’s your problem then.” She smirked that stupid, infuriating smile and patted his head.

Resigning himself to another trip to the grocery store, he prepared himself for the day and within a few minutes of getting changed everything went to hell for the first time in a long time. Buildings began to explode from unseen forces and he had to scramble to find those glasses that could see into Purgatorio. When he finally found them and saw what was happening, it was Isla Del Sol all over again.

And just as he began to run down the emergency stairs to start moving people off the streets, it ended. Silence seemed to reign for an impossibly long time. Then the sky turned red.

Luka at that point knew that the safest place in the world would be right next to Bayonetta. He didn’t find her in his frantic search; instead, he found Rodin and the horrible sight of Jeanne’s mangled body.

The image was seared into his memory and he knew that it would never leave.

A head bumped into his elbow. Uncovering one eye, he found Viola looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Whimpering, he grabbed the cat and placed her onto his lap and began to stroke her fur. She began to purr and Luka briefly wondered just how sentient his cat actually was.

“I need to know she’s safe.” He began to talk aloud, somewhat hoping that Viola would somehow give him reprieve. “She’s out there, alone and hurting and I need-“

Luka wasn’t sure if she would appreciate being held, but he lifted the cat up and cuddled her. He didn’t get scratched instantly.

“Her best friend is dead. Her brother is missing and all I can do for her is sit here and, I don’t know, fucking cry,” he tried not to get angry, but his frustration at his inability to do anything useful was beginning to boil over. “I just want to help someone and I can’t do anything to help anyone. What a useless friend must I be!”

The room was illuminated with a bright light when lightning struck nearby. Thunder followed soon after, causing the other two cats and dog to yelp in fear.

“Come here, Claire, Silvia and Akira.”

The pets quickly jumped onto the couch, surrounding and throwing themselves at him. Luka’s two hands weren’t enough to constantly calm them all, but he somehow managed. Akira began to circle around on the second cushion and curled up into small ball. The two cats still stayed close to him, both rubbing themselves against his legs.

“Everything is going to be alright.”

He was talking to the cats, right?

Another flash of lightning lit the room up again. But this time, it all plunged into darkness when the power went out. Luka merely sighed and carefully repositioned the cats onto the sofa.

He really hoped he had bought candles.

Turning on the torch function on his phone, he wandered over into the kitchen and began opening cupboards and drawers. Luka didn’t remember owning candles; he was assured by the complex’s owner that any kind of power failure was impossible due to the city’s construction and the sheer amount of power conduits entering the building. That was true, but he assumed that the owner also did not account for an Angelic invasion destroying the city infrastructure.

Someone knocked on the door.

Luka slowly made his way over and opened it up, both unsurprised and befuddled to see Mrs Hunbourge with a tray full of candles.

“Hello dear!” The elderly woman smiled and held the tray out. “I wasn’t sure if you had restocked on candles recently, or ever at all, so I wanted to make sure you could see during this power outage.”

Leave it to her to be prepared for this kind of thing. Luka smiled for the first time in a week and bowed deeply. “How many can I take?”

“As many as you like, dear. At least enough for a nice, romantic evening with that girl you’ve been living with.” She gave him a sly wink and he nearly dropped the two candles he was grabbing. “Tell me you’ve at least tried to, what do they call it these days? Woo her?”

“Please stop talking.” He barely managed to keep his emotions in check. She didn’t know. It wasn’t her fault.

Fortunately, Mrs Hunbourge did not notice his distress. She merely chuckled and pushed a few more candles towards the empty part of the tray. “Go on, buy some wine and have a night in. She’ll love it.”

Bayonetta would appreciate the gesture on a good day when her best friend was still alive and well. Luka honestly felt trying anything to make her feel better would be like a slap in the face, and that was assuming she was going to come back at some point.

“You know, the longer you leave it the more likely it is for her to find another-”

“I understand your concern, but thank you for the candles. Cereza will love them.” A polite smile affixed itself on his face and he put his hand on the door handle.

“Well, I know when I’m not wanted.” Hunbourge lowered her head. The kind expression remained, although. “If you need more, you know when to find me.”

She shuffled down the hallway and Luka closed the door after her. The last few words stung and he wanted to go out and apologise, but a mewl from behind his jogged his memory to the four animals still on the couch.

“Alright, alright! I’ll get some light going!” He walked back and began placing candles around the room. Thinking better of it, he left them on a nearby stand and placed one on the coffee table in the centre. His thought process was to illuminate the entire room, but unless he knew how much one candle could there wasn’t really much point in setting them all out just yet. He tried to remember if he had a lighter or match somewhe-

The kitchen!

Luka ran over and began opening cupboards and drawers, wracking his brain for where he put the matchbox. Surely, he would have put it in with the rest of the tools-

Someone knocked on the door, slowly and with great weight. Luka frowned and made his way back to the door; Mrs Hunbourge had just left and he had made it very clear he didn’t really want to talk with her. The old lady was sometimes a pain, but she did know when to move on or come back another day. Grabbing the handle, he opened the door.

“Hel-”

Bayonetta stood there.

Her clothing was soaking wet and stuck to her body in clumps instead of its normal sleekness. Her hair was the same, albeit drooping down, matting and covering her eyes. An unhealthy pallor was her skin tone and she was shaking. Whether it was from illness or grief he did not know. Her eyes, normally bright and full of mirth, were dead and despaired.

“Holy shit- Bayo- Cere-“ And of course, once she was here he did not know what to say. “Um…”

Bayonetta spoke no words and buried herself against his chest. He felt her arms wrap around him and her head nestled itself under his own. The shaking increased beyond what he thought was possible. A soft cry escaped her lips and he could feel her weeping. Her tears seeped into his shirt and scarf but he did not care.

Bayonetta was here. She wasn’t okay and she wasn’t in good spirits, but she was here. That lifted a lot of stress off his shoulders.

“She’s gone.” Her voice was hoarse and thick, almost inaudible amongst her weeping. “She’s gone and she’s- she’s not coming back.”

There was no answer he could give that felt appropriate. Luka wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze, trying to give her some reprieve. He didn’t think it would help.

The second his hands touched the back of her new hairsuit he almost pulled them back. Her skin (and body by proxy) was freezing. Wherever she had been, she had not taken care of herself. Luka wasn’t actually sure if Umbra Witches had inbuilt immunity to disease and he did not particularly want to find out.

With slow movements, he guided her inside of the apartment and closed the door behind him. Bayonetta arm stayed wrapped around his torso, almost like it was her lifeline. Akira and Viola immediately ran over to the woman and rubbed themselves against her legs, seemingly sensing the emotions expelling from her.

“We need to get you warmed up.” Luka broke the silence, rubbing one of her shoulders.

“Don’t you care that she’s…” Bayonetta bristled back with anger, slowly wilting away. “She’s gone and you want to make sure I am okay? I let her die. I deser-“

“Bayonetta, she would want you to be alright. I can’t do anything about her, as much as it pains me, but I can help you.” He looked directly at her pale face in the darkness, somewhat illuminated by a soft glow emanating from herself. “Please, let me. I need to do something! I spent a whole week trying to find you and now you are here and I just want to do something to feel useful!”

Viola purred against her leg in the silence that followed.

“I’ll draw you a bath. Would you like anything for it? Scented candles? Bathing salts?” He asked. Bayonetta shook her head almost instantly. “Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom. You’ll… need to undress. I don’t know how to get you out of those clothes.”

Normally, the Witch would make some comment about how he was trying to get her naked for him to be able to perve all over her body. Instead she nodded and clung to him a little tighter.

He missed her normal attitude for once.

It took longer than he expected, but they made it to the bathroom. Gingerly, Luka began to unwrap Bayonetta from his torso. Her grip, however, remained strong.

“No.”

“Bayonetta, I can’t bathe with you.”

Her tear-streaked cheeks gleamed when a flash of lightning illuminated the room. “You are not going away. If I look away, you’re going to die. Just like-” the words caught in her throat, dying off with a choked whimper.

He did not know the specific circumstances surrounding Jeanne’s death; all Luka knew was that one of Bayonetta’s summons went rogue and killed the Witch. From what she was implying now, it was a sneak attack and definitely something both Witches did not expect. This clinginess was explainable, if that was the case, and Luka did not blame her. However…

“I’ve been fine for a week. Well, not fine in any sense of the word, but no Angels or Demons have shown up to attack me.” He gently pulled her arms down to her side and held her hands. They were freezing. “They won’t attack me in the next twenty or so minutes.”

“You promise?”

There was absolutely no way he could promise. What the hell could he do if the Angels and/or Demons decided to attack?

But what else could he say?

“I promise.”

…

Once the candles had been set up and Luka dug out his old kettle, it was time to make a phone call. He had been contacting Rodin for the last week, almost every other hour, just to see if the man had an inkling of Bayonetta’s whereabouts. Of course, he didn’t know and every time he did Luka was told not to call back again.

Well, this time the news would be different.

“Gates of Hell, Rodin speaking.”

He clutched his mobile phone tightly to his ear. “Do you do house calls?”

The man on the other end sighed. “Redgrave, this will be the eighty fifth time this week I will tell you that- a house call?”

“Yeah, can you come here?”

“Redgrave, why the fuck would I ever do a house call? I have a business to run. If it’s anything to do with the power outage, you know that I do not fix shit for fun. Unless you are literally about to die, it’s a no.”

Luka’s eyes glanced towards the bathroom. The sounds of running water had subsided long ago and he could only imagine what Bayonetta was doing. Judging from the silence? Nothing. “I found her.”

Rodin swore and he could hear a glass shattering. “You found her? Are you one hundred percent certain it’s her?”

“Yes. She came back here about twenty minutes ago.” A thought came to him. “Can Umbra Witches contract an illness?”

“The Demon or viruses? If it’s the latter it shouldn’t be possible, but with what’s currently going on then I’m not actually sure what is.”

Bayonetta’s appearance flashed through Luka’s mind. “She walked in looking like death. She kinda felt like it too.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” The weaponsmith grunted. He could hear objects shuffling around and then something crashed with a loud bang. “Make sure she’s alright, Redgrave. We’re going to need her.”

“Wait! Don’t you-“ A click ended the call and Luka stared at his phone with a defeated expression. “Why does everyone already know where I live?”

Sighing, he went back into the kitchen and turned on the stove. Filling the ancient kettle with water, he placed that onto the heat and began to rummage through the cupboards. While Jeanne and himself needed to wake up and stay awake with the use of coffee, Bayonetta was a tea connoisseur. Luka felt that giving her a few cups of her favourite leaves would be something he could do.

At the very least Rodin would probably want some.

Finding the small boxes buried behind the pasta, he pulled them out and placed them onto the counter. Now he just had to wait for the water to boil.

“Luka?”

Bayonetta’s faint voice carried through the apartment. Turning the heat down under the kettle, he grabbed the nearby plated candle and wandered back towards the bathroom. He opened the door to see her sitting at one end of the tub, her legs drawn up and held close to her chest. Her eyes were staring at the opposite wall, but they turned to him the second he opened the door.

The only time he had ever seen her so vulnerable was when Jeanne had ‘died’ in Ithavoll.

“Everything alright?” Luka asked, only realising how dumb the question was after the words left his mouth.

Great fucking job Luka. Is that how you make someone who lost their best friend feel better?

“Does Bubby know?” Bayonetta ignored his question and asked one of her own. And it was the best question she could have asked as well.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with him or anyone from Devil May Cry. I got through to Nero’s girlfriend and she says he’s fine.” Luka answered honestly, after a moment’s hesitation. She would probably find out the truth anyway, so he was going to relay what Kyrie had said.

Her eyes wandered over his body, disappointment filling them. “She’s lying.”

“She can’t lie to save a life.” He agreed. His shoulders slumped and he placed the plate onto the sink. “Kyrie was like ‘he’s fine! I’ll tell him when I see him!’ Why couldn’t you tell me where he is, then?”

“She knows?”

“Bayonetta, it’s been the talk of the world for a week. Something invisible destroys half of New York and at the end of it all it’s rumoured that one of the surviving Witches are dead.” Leaning over, he grabbed the small stool that acted as a step into the tub and dragged it over to him. Taking a seat on it, he rubbed his face with both of his hands and let out a huff of annoyance. “Turns out our friend in the government has been taking the heat for us, for once.”

“Ada?”

He nodded. “She called pretty early on. Told us that we should take the time to grieve.”

“She knows the truth?”

“Jeanne trusted her with her life,” Luka explained, recalling the dry woman’s conversation from four days ago. “And when I told her what Rodin thought happened, Miss Wong made moves to blame it on the Umbrella Corporation.”

A dead smile graced her lips. “Smart woman. I always knew she wasn’t the hardass she tries to be. And anything to annoy Wesker is always funny.” It disappeared as soon as it appeared. “To answer your question, I physically feel better. A warm bath has done wonders, as you would expect.”

Luka uncovered his face and focussed on the unspoken part. Rubbing his temples, he tried to formulate his thoughts into words. “I… I can’t expect to ever know how you feel like. I was too young to fully understand what losing both of my parents meant to me, but losing your best friend of five hundred years? I don’t know what I can do to help. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” her words had a strange soothing effect. “Just being alive is enough. Have you…”

Her hesitation creased his brow in a frown. “Yes?”

“Have you been able to mourn yet? Knowing you, you’ve probably been working yourself to death in order to make sure I was okay.” Bayonetta tilted her head. “Am I wrong?”

“Well, no…” He grimaced and rubbed his temples. “Is it bad that my first thoughts were to make sure you were both okay and safe?”

“Not at all. At least you accepted you couldn’t do anything quicker than I did.”

“And that’s why I feel like shit. I couldn’t do anything even if I was there- Fuck!” He cried out, recovering his face. “She was my friend too. She might not have liked me that much, but we were friends and I should have done something! Even if it was just an extra pair of eyes on the situation-”

“Cheshire, I couldn’t do anything and I was there.” A wet, but soft hand encased his own, pulling it down gently. He met her eyes through a rapidly blurring vision. “Some part of my womanly intuition tells me that there’s a lot more to this and I will need your help in figuring it out. I… didn’t think seeing you would bring it all back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising; it’s definitely not your fault. I couldn’t reach Damien, but he’s useless at investigating books.” She pulled his other hand down and began rubbing them with her fingers. Luka reflected that the bath had done wonders; they didn’t feel like a corpse any longer. “Something happened to my summon and I want to find out what.”

“What makes you think that?” He asked.

“Remember when I mentioned that something was up with Butterfly?”

Luka wracked his brain for that, but he frowned when he remembered. “That was… three months ago, right?”

“Both of our patrons went silent three months ago. Angel attacks stopped three months ago. Demons stopped contacting us three months ago,” Bayonetta hesitated. “And when they all come back at once, that fucking bastard instantly betrayed me and k-” A sob escaped her throat. “Sorry. I thought I was ready to start confronting things, but I can’t talk to you about it without getting choked up! This is not what Jeanne would want!”

“Jeanne would want you to be ready. Considering that, if your theory is right, there’s someone interfering with your powers and they haven’t made another move during your absolute lowest, then I don’t expect them to make one so quickly now.” Luka began to rub her hands when she stopped doing the same for him. “If you need my help, then why are you asking? You know I would gladly do anything to help you.”

“Luka, this is a little more than your average adventure that you always throw yourself into.” She shook her head. “This being had enough power to affect the allegiance of my Demons and harm Butterfly. I do not want you to get hurt.”

“Balder could have killed me at any point during our trip to Ithavoll-”

“It was pure luck you survived. I don’t want to push that luck any further than-”

“Cereza.” The use of her actual name felt a little sour on his tongue, but it instantly grabbed her attention. “I will help you. She was my friend too, remember? I’ve got a stake in this revenge as well.”

“Well, Bayonetta is correct that this might be out of your league.”

Luka screamed and jumped into the air. His foot caught the stool on the way down and he fell awkwardly onto his side, slamming his head into the wall. His sight darkened slightly, but he didn’t fall unconscious.

That was a good start.

“Rodin,” Bayonetta greeted with a dry tone. “It seems that you always know how to make a spectacular entrance.”

Somehow, he managed to twist himself over and look at the doorway. An unamused Rodin stood there with his arms crossed, not bothering to check on him. His gaze was fixed upon the Witch, the sunglasses hiding the boring eyes.

“I’ll let you both freshen up. Then we all need to discuss a few things.”

…

Luka held an ice pack to his head while he moved some candles towards the coffee table. Bayonetta was gathered at one end of the sofa, wrapped in a white evening gown and clutching a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Rodin sat at the other end with a cup in front of him, the flames reflecting on his glasses.

He, on the other hand, had to sit on the floor. Folding his legs underneath him, Luka found a place against the wall and kept that ice pack on the hematoma that was forming. The cats swarmed around him, each one giving the gunsmith evil eyes.

“I didn’t think his babies wouldn’t like you.” Bayonetta muttered, taking a sip. “But then again, you were the one to hurt him. They are very protective.”

“I’ve found that animals and pets don’t like me in general.” He commented and copied her actions. Rodin gave the teacup an appreciative glance and looked over at Luka. “Damn, you do have some good tea.”

“That’s her stuff. Mine’s the cheap shit that’s… uhh… shit.” Luka grimaced, remembering how the Witch had reacted upon seeing his selection. In his defence, he only really served it if he had guests. Which was never. Nowadays he had more than a few guests, but they didn’t drink tea for the most part.

“Just when I gained a small amount of respect for you, you had to blow it all away.”

Viola broke away from the pack encircling him and jumped onto Bayonetta’s lap with a single bound. One of her hands reached down and began to pet the golden fur absentmindedly. “Well, Rodin, what brings you here?”

“Redgrave told me you were here and we’ve both been trying to find you for a week.”

“Aw, you care.”

“Bayonetta, what I’m about to tell you concerns everyone. None of this sentimentality bullshit; this concerns the very fabric of the universe itself.” Rodin glowered, the dark sunglasses failing to hide the red glare of his eyes.

The Witch swallowed and bowed her head. “My apologies, Rodin.”

“S’alright. I can’t find your brother-”

“And neither can we.” She glanced to Luka, who acknowledged her with a hesitant of his head.

“And that means we have a fucking problem.” Rodin put the cup down on the table and folded his arms. “How much contact have you had with Butterfly? Or rather, when was the last time you had a good conversation?”

“Three months ago.” Bayonetta answered immediately.

“Shit. That was the last time I heard from Khepri, and it was a warning. She told me that he was coming and to be prepared for anything.”

Luka frowned and rested one hand on his chin. “Who is he?”

Bayonetta increased the speed of her petting. “Is that why you wanted those upgrades done sooner rather than later?”

“I can’t tell you who he is, specifically, because I’m not too sure myself. But yes, he is the reason why.” Rodin turned to her. “You should never go against anything underprepared.”

She exchanged a glanced with him. Luka lifted the ice pack up and gestured to the weaponsmith. “So, what can you tell us about him?”

He sighed with resentment, but the journalist recognised it was at himself and not him. “Khepri has been embroiled in her own game of chess using all of reality as the board. She’s been manipulating a lot of events to make sure her pieces move into the right spots. You’ve both probably noticed that with her less-than-subtle manipulations.”

“I can’t speak for Cheshire, but Butterfly has told me I’m important to several futures. Or something similar.”

Rodin nodded. “Exactly. On the other side of this board is the Enemy. Dante’s Blue Guy. A figure shrouded in enough mystery that even the Primordius aren’t sure who he is. And that is saying something.”

Another mention of the Primordius caused Luka’s head to perk up. “Those guys again?”

“Well, Sheba and myself have theories. But until we get some solid facts, there’s nothing we can say or do on the situation without potentially giving you false information to work with. You, Redgrave, should know quite the thing about that.” Rodin held up three fingers. “There are three possible candidates. They each are former Primordius and each one would have plenty of reasons to want to return to power.”

“You can stop being a Primordius?”

The man chuckled. “Stop is a loose term; once you leave the status, you can never reattain it. One was the original Primordius of Inferno and was toppled from his position long ago due to his lust for more power. His replacement had the same ambition and was removed due to his physical manifestation being annihilated by the son of Sparda. The third disappeared when he decided to give all of humanity free will.”

That was a lot of information to digest. So Luka narrowed his eyes and focussed his attention on the quantity. “Honestly, you seem to know way too much all the time.”

“Rodin, please be a little bit straight with us this once,” Bayonetta narrowed her own. “Are you a Primordius?”

It seemed that the Witch shared his theory as well. Rodin seemed to bring up these supposedly mythical beings a lot more than, well, any text he had read. Luka wasn’t one to assume a lot, considering how badly he had fucked up his last assumption, but this was a little too on the nose to not give it a possibility.

“Heh. Why else would I care so much? I revolted against Paradiso when Jubileus fell into her slumber, trying to fill the vacuum of power she both left and created. I failed and was cast out, stripped of my Lagunan heritage and turned into an Infernal. Turns out, even in my weakened state, I was the only candidate suitable to inherit the status that Aesir left behind; I was the strongest being left in Chaos, after all.” A chuckle left his lips. “Turns out the position in the food chain I always fancied came with a lot of unwanted responsibility.”

“Let me guess; us?”

“Bingo.” Rodin clicked his fingers and pointed at her. “Khepri was the one to tell me of who I had to become in order to understand what was required of me. And when that realisation came, good lord I just wanted to go back to being a Dea.”

Bayonetta chuckled and took a sip of her tea. “I guess we are that annoying.”

“You deal with that asshole Philemon for more than five minutes and tell me otherwise. The rest of the other six Primordius aren’t that bad, but they all have their little peculiarities that makes me kinda glad we closed the Realm Between.”

“Not to annoy you, but what has any of this got to do with anything?” Luka brought both of their attention back to him, and hopefully to the matter at hand. “I mean, the information is good because information on the Primordius is super rare, but how does that help us with our… well… thing?”

“Your thing?”

“I want revenge on whoever unleashed my Infernals on me.” The Witch stated plainly. “Be it this blue guy or someone else.”

Rodin shook his head. “You don’t want to challenge those who could make the book of revelations look like mother goose. But what you can do is save those in need of it.”

“Rodin, don’t fucking give me hope. She’s dead and that’s-”

The weaponsmith tossed a small, silver object to her. Bayonetta caught it with a tendril of hair, quickly placing her teacup down and grabbing it with both hands. Luka recognised it as the Umbran Watch that sat upon Jeanne’s breast. It was flipped open and she looked to Rodin with confusion.

“But how!?”

“Jeanne’s body is dead. Her soul was never claimed by her patron, and knowing Styx she would send it right back so her destiny can be fulfilled. So it’s in Inferno, waiting to be taken by the strongest demon that comes across it.” Rodin lifted his cup up and downed the rest of the contents. “But she’s still down there. I’d wager you have about a week to find her and you should be able to use that to get her out.”

Bayonetta’s face was a whirlwind of emotion, settling into hope. “Are you sure about this, Rodin?”

“If you haven’t forgotten, Jeanne is currently holding the keys to Jubileus. Even if she wasn’t a central piece to Khepri’s plans, that’s more than enough reason to make sure she stays safe.” A cigar flicked into his hand from nowhere and Rodin lit it with his thumb. “The rigmarole of choosing Mundus’s replacement was enough headaches to last several lifetimes.”

She giggled and gave him a slight shove. “Oh, come on! You can just admit you’re trying to help out, you big softie.”

“No, I won’t.” Rodin grumbled and looked away. Luka found himself chuckling as the heavy mood slowly began to lighten.

They could bring Jeanne back to life and all they had to do was find her body in Inferno. Except, there was no-

“Wait, how do we get into Inferno?” He asked and the tension returned. “I know there’s a few Portals to Paradiso still active, but I don’t remember reading anything about portals into Inferno.”

“Cheshire does bring up a good point. Just how do we get there?” Bayonetta’s face fell and Luka regretted bringing it up in the first place.

“Well, it’s not as hopeless as you think.” Rodin smiled. “There are two paths into Inferno that I know for certain are open. One is the Qliphoth tree that’s currently growing in Red Grave City; however, that’s an entrance into Inferno, not a portal. You go in through there, you’re going to have a very hard time getting back out.”

“How come?” He asked for the two of them.

“There’s something blocking my normal paths, and the Qliphoth is meant to be a conduit out of the Underworld for Demons. I guarantee you that you could not get out if you decided to use that path.”

Bayonetta raised an eyebrow at that. “Something or someone?”

“Heh, definitely leaning someone. Which leads me to the other pathway; Fimbulventr.”

The name was familiar. Luka found himself leaning forward in anticipation for when Rodin continued.

“Fimbulventr is a mountain that once was the home of the Primordius Aesir. To you, he is known as the God of Chaos and was the original owner of the Eyes of the World. He created them, in fact.” Rodin began, taking a puff of the cigar. “And upon his mountain there are two portals; one to Paradiso and the other to Inferno.”

Luka could see Bayonetta clutching at her chest, undoubtedly near her own Umbran Watch.

“Now, Khepri doesn’t like me telling you these things, but if I were a betting man that portal probably still functions. That is the problem. Chances are they, the being I think is behind all of this, knows this too. If I send you there, there’s a high chance I’m sending you straight into a trap.” The smoke from the cigar rose lazily above the candles, forming a cloud near the ceiling fan.

“We can handle a few traps. Isla Del Sol was a giant one and we both managed to get out of that unscathed.” She pointed out and Rodin nodded.

“That I do concede. I was fully expecting some specific shit to go down there and, besides from Damien’s brief dance with death, nothing really happened.” He hesitated with another drag from the cigar. “The situation this time is that I have no clue what is going on and I don’t want to put everything into a situation that might be impossible to win. Khepri is insistent on keeping details on the low down, for some reason. She’s barely spoken a word to me since three-“

His empty hand balled into a fist and he punched the sofa. “Dammit. Maybe I should have realised that they would’ve gone after her too.”

“So the options are either we go in through this tree that Devil May Cry is currently dealing with and potentially never come out, we go to Fimbulventr and straight into a trap, or we sit here and let Jeanne’s soul be devoured.” Luka listed off and Bayonetta turned to him sharply.

“We are not letting Jeanne’s soul be devoured!”

“I know! I’m just laying out the options and it really seems like we have just the one.” He flinched away from her tone and the guilty flash on her face was not missed. “We gotta go to Fimbulventr.”

He clicked his fingers and sat up a little straighter, his eyes widening. “That’s where I heard it before! Balder was researching Fimbulventr! Just, why would he be?”

“A rival?”

“Nah. From what Dante said, blue guy was working with Balder, not against him.” Dragging himself up, he began to stumble towards his computer. A hand gripped his bicep and he turned to see Bayonetta looking at him with concerned bemusement.

“Are you forgetting the power is gone, Cheshire? You can’t exactly use electronics.” She glanced back to Rodin, who was staring intently at the cat placed him his lap. “So where is this Fimbulventr?”

“Noatun. A city in Italy that’s almost impossible to get to.” He answered without moving his gaze away.

“How come? This isn’t like Vigrid, the city that ‘never changes,’ is it?” Bayonetta rolled her eyes and brushed a few loose strands out of her eyes. “Is everywhere that relates to us so unwelcoming?”

“Thule was said to be pretty open to those willing to devote their lives to nothing.” Rodin shrugged. “But it ain’t the culture this time, Bayonetta. They say the mountain itself seems to expel those who it doesn’t deem worthy.”

Luka raised his eyebrows at that. “The mountain?”

“Sounds bullshit, right? Whoever our mystery blue guy is, they’ve probably decided to take up residence in Aesir’s old home. If they’ve been scheming this alongside Balder, then it makes sense to push every prying eye away.” Rodin finally looked away from the cat with a grunt. “Probably should have kept more tabs on it.”

“What’s done is done. Now, how do I get to Noatun?”

That brought out a frown. “Bayonetta, don’t you mean, we?”

“Absolutely not. You, Cheshire, are staying put.”

“What!?” He whirled around, feeling his vision swirl from the sudden movement. “No way am I staying here! I’ve got to-”

“Luka, listen to me. I couldn’t protect Jeanne, and we both know damn well that you can’t protect yourself against anything that this blue guy will throw at us. Nine lives or not, I’m not going to let you die. You are staying here.” Her hand kept on his bicep, keeping him locked in place while he stumbled around. “Besides, you’re hurt. You are in no condition to be flying, let alone researching. At the very least I will let your stubborn pride do that.”

“I want to help you.”

“Redgrave.” Rodin called out. “Trust me, you would be doing us both massive favours if you stay here.”

One of the things Luka absolutely hated was just how weak he was. It wasn’t fair that he constantly dragged people into his problems and then he couldn’t actually finish them due to his physical and magical limitations.

But this wasn’t a situation where he needed to do anything physical. Bayonetta, as much as she was posturing otherwise, was still hurting. He would feel a lot more comfortable with her going alone if Damien was there with her. But since her brother was missing, someone had to be with her. And that person, well, it had to be him.

Because there was no one else.

“I couldn’t do anything with Balder. I want to do something here!”

“You can help by giving me guidance.” A tendril of hair slipped under her phone and she held it up with a smirk when it arrived at her. “Every bit of information will help, no matter how trivial or pointless you may think it is.”

Perhaps it was for the best. Luka closed his eyes and sighed, trying hard not to think about how pathetic he was. “Okay.”

Her hand wrapped around his own, interlacing their fingers together. “I won’t be long, Cheshire. Just a trip there and back to get Jeanne, and then we can plan getting our sweet revenge together as a trio.”

A thought came to him. “What about Butterfly?”

“What about her?” Rodin raised an eyebrow.

…

“PDEE BARMA!”

A portal to Inferno ripped open above the roof of the apartment complex, showering it in red light. Rodin stared up at the portal with apprehension, while Luka clasped his hands together in a prayer. The glasses on his nose did make him look a little silly, in her opinion, but then again he was a silly person in general.

The good kind of silly. A fond smile grew when a few memories passed through her of just how easy it was for him to make her laugh. Bayonetta kept her pose, her nightgown fluttering from the unnatural winds. Her eyes did not waver from the portal.

Come on…

“You said she was hurt, right?” Rodin yelled out.

“The last time we talked she screamed in pain. I’ve never heard a Madama do that, even when they were summoned.” She recalled Damien telling her about how Khepri literally took a direct missile to the face and offered no physical reaction to it.

Rodin grunted and folded his arms. “Just gotta wait then.”

“How come you can summon? I thought the portals were closed!” Luka asked, glancing at both of them.

“How do you think the tree works?” The gunsmith gestured at the man. “And besides, she’s manifesting the Madama using her hair. Not summoning the-”

Madama Butterfly tumbled through the portal and slammed onto the roof with a thunderous bang.

“Oh. Well, that’s impressive.” Rodin stroked his chin while the red light faded. “Luegray could summon Khepri because he manifests a part of her like a Persona. Now to bring the full Demon into Purgatorio? That’s some power I haven’t seen in a little while.”

“I’ve grown a little stronger in the last six months, Rodin. Please give me a little credit.” Bayonetta turned to her Patron and stared at her with concern.

A low cut, dark purple dress covered bluish grey skin- Low cut on the dress was putting it lightly and Bayonetta reconsidered her description. Her breasts were barely covered by thin purple straps, each leading up to spiked shoulder pads that served to enhance the presentation of power and sexuality. Long and slender legs jutted out from a slit in the dress, capped off by black heels with a red point. Ridged and spiked braces adorned her forearms, each one covering and wrapping around her middle fingers of both hands. Red lips and eyes contrasted the pale skin upon her face, crowned by an elaborated black headdress that resembled antennae of her patrons namesake. Upon her back were two extravagant butterfly wings, each one containing the image of a mirrored crescent moon. Their coloration and hue reminded Bayonetta of stained glass.

What was the most concerning were the sheer number of cuts and wounds upon her body. Black ichor dribbled out of a dozen deep ones and she could see some that passed cleanly through.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Her patron roared, pain very clear in her voice. She held on hand to her stomach and slowly twisted to face the trio. “Did you summon me to show me off? Your damaged Patron?”

“Madama Butterfly,” she curtsied with a bow. Bayonetta then abandoned all pretences of tradition and ran to her patron. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? He found me and ensnared me in an elaborate trap to make sure you could only use that traitor as a summon. By the time I freed myself and found another Infernal for you to use, I was too late to do anything and he found me again anyway.” She hissed. “What are you doing!?”

Bayonetta was now running her hands along her legs, green healing magic filling her. “I’m helping you out, you big dummy.”

“I can help myself.”

“Just let me do something for you, for once.” She stopped at her ankles, spotting a particularly wide slash that clearly passed through a few tendons.

“Our contract does not require you to help me. I give you power, you give me your soul. Nothing less, nothing more.”

“Madama,” Rodin called out and the Demon turned to him, taking her wrathful gaze away. “What happened exactly?”

“I have already explained the situation, Infinite One,” she seethed. “I do not need to explain myself again.”

“Every piece of information counts, Butterfly.” He met her gaze with a measured one of his own. “Was it Dante’s blue guy at the very least?”

This question gave the Infernal pause. Butterfly avoided his stare for a moment, until she answered with a defeated tone. “I do not know.”

Bayonetta hesitated before she touched the skin of her Demon. Looking over at her upper body, she tilted her head slightly. “Butterfly?”

“It happened so fast. I was simply minding my own business and then he simply took me.” Butterfly wilted in her posture, leaning over slightly with a demure expression. “I never got the chance to see who took me.”

“How do you know it was a him?”

Butterfly turned to her with a snarl. “He sounded like a pompous ass. Very hard to mistake for anyone else.”

Luka’s ghostly body stepped up beside her, staring up at the Demon in fascination. “I didn’t think she was so big.”

“Well Cheshire, in Inferno size does matter.” Bayonetta returned her attention to the massive wound in Butterfly’s ankle. “Butterfly? I’m going to heal you.”

“It is not necessary for you to do so; I can heal myself!”

“Why haven’t you?” She only had just realised that Butterfly had not moved ever since falling onto the roof. The Demon was only lying there, propped up by one arm and shaking slightly in-

Oh.

“I-I can and I will!”

“Butterfly, just let her.” Rodin stepped back and gestured at Luka to do the same. The Demon, this time, kept her mouth shut about that and growled in frustration.

“Just tell that mortal to stop ogling my legs and I will.”

Both of their heads turned to Luka, who returned their frowns with confusion. “What? I don’t understand her.”

“Just look away, Redgrave. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“Huh!? I’m staring at the one part that doesn’t make me uncomfortable! How can that possibly be uncomfortable to her?” He gestured with both hands towards Butterfly’s upper body. “Everything up there is very distracting!”

“I suppose that is the intended purpose,” Bayonetta mused, then shook her head. “But I think it’s got to do with Butterfly not wanting to show weakness in front of those she deems not worthy.”

“Oh! Well, that makes sense.” He turned around and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not going to peek.”

“You better not, Redgrave.”

Placing her hands onto the cold skin, Bayonetta released the healing spell she had been building for several minutes at this point. Green energy flowed from her palms and into the Infernal, halting the flow of ichor and reknitting the flesh together with soundless briskness. The incantation weaved its way through the leg and passed through the stomach, healing everything in its path.

Within a few seconds, Butterfly groaned and stretched out her legs, using them to tilt herself into a sitting position. Her arms stretched above her head when they healed as well and audible ‘pops’ from her joints echoed off into the night.

Bayonetta stepped back when the spell completed it course and Madama Butterfly stood up. Awkwardly, the two stared at each other.

“…thank you.” The Demon was the first to break the impromptu staring contest. “There was no reason for you to help me. Actually, it would be in your best interests to not help me in order to make sure your soul does not fall to-”

Bayonetta placed her hands on her hips and interrupted her with an unimpressed grunt. “You’re my friend, Butterfly. And not to mention now I guaranteed myself two Internals’ to work with when I go to Noatun.”

“We are not friends. We are contracted and contractee.” Butterfly sharply returned her gaze back. “To be anything else would be an affront to what we brokered.”

“Okay then, well, at the very least I can still count on you to help me out?”

Butterfly smoothed out her dress and flashed a toothy grin. Her teeth were sharp, seemingly filed into points. Bayonetta suspected they grew like that. “I will not miss out on a chance for revenge, Cereza. We will make this journey together.”

A portal opened up behind her and Butterfly turned to step through it. “More Infernals, or any that will listen and offer their services in a contract, will come soon. I cannot guarantee that they will be the same quality of your previous.”

“Any help you can give will be enough. And besides, if my new cats could defeat my old dog, then it should be more than fine.” Bayonetta smiled and waved. “I’ll look forward to them!”

“Do not hype yourself up over nothing.” Butterfly’s voice echoed out of the portal when she stepped through. “I cannot promise anything.”

The portal snapped shut and Bayonetta followed her patron’s example and stepped out of Purgatorio. Luka removed his glasses and turned around, while Rodin appraised her with a curious eye.

“Everything all good to go?” The former asked, folding and replacing the accessory away in its case. Bayonetta nodded once in reply and he sighed. “I guess I’ll sort out a plane or something. My phone should have enough charge to do that.”

Walking over and opening a nearby door, Luka walked back into the building and left her with the gunsmith.

“Tell Redgrave not to worry. Enzo’s gonna pay a little bit of his debt off tomorrow.” Rodin huffed and suddenly his gaze began to scrutinize her. “Now, just why did you do that?”

“Do what? Heal her? I thought that’s what decent people did.”

“Butterfly was correct in saying that you had no obligation to heal her,” he folded his arms and began to walk over to her. “And that it was far more beneficial for you to leave her as wounded as she was. Now, I was going to restore her regardless, but why did you?”

Bayonetta turned and looked over the edge of the building, letting her eyes trail over the skyline around her. “Because she’s been with me the longest. Longer than Jeanne, longer than Damien and even long than Mummy.”

Rodin stopped when he was beside her. “She’s not your friend. Styx has a lot invested in Jeanne and Khepri’s relationship with your brother is far more complex than it really needs to be. But you and Butterfly? You two are contracted and contractee. She will use any situation to her advantage if necessary.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“Do you really know Butterfly? Do you understand how an Infernal works?” Rodin sighed. “I’m not trying to put a divide between you and her, but you have to remember; once the future is clear and all apocalypses have been averted, she will start gunning for your soul. It’s the way these things work.”

Bayonetta stayed silent.

“I’ve seen too many Witches believe the same as you; that their contracted shares a special bond with them. It’s never the case. Damien and Khepri is a special case and-“

“Are you going to tell me why?”

Rodin didn’t answer for a minute. Just before her patience snapped in two, he began to talk. “I cannot tell you. If I do, no matter what you say or do, he finds out. And if he finds out, everything is doomed regardless of anything that may happen.”

His hand slapped her shoulder softly, rubbing it after. “I’ll let Enzo know to expect you at eight at the airport, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry, Cereza.” The use of her real name did not go unnoticed, but by the time she turned to him Rodin was gone.

And then she was alone once more. Watching the moon peer over the dissipating storm clouds, Bayonetta felt herself falter. Swallowing back the emotions, she let the moon’s strength in.

“I’m coming, Jeanne.” She promised the night’s sky. “I will rescue you.”

Chapter Text

Side Mission 1: The Underworld

…

Voices echoed through Balder’s addled mind, breaking through the fog with lances of pain. He groaned, feeling stone beneath his prone body. His hands did not weakly grasp at the ground or attempt to pull himself along to a less exposed position; neither them or his arms could move. He had been tossed into his current predicament like a bag of unwanted scraps.

In their eyes, he would have been.

Once they had taken them, his family had been separated while they awaited their trial. He did not know how the Umbra treated his wife and child, but his brethren had not taken his ‘betrayal’ so lightly. A sham of a court had attempted to interrogate him, trying to pull a confession that he had been bewitched and forced into a relationship with the love of his life.

He had told them as such and refused the opening they had given him so he could still maintain his role among the Lumen Sages. Balder would not live a lie and would certainly not rebuke the one he loved.

The reaction to his declaration was far more severe than he had expected. The torture began on the morrow, with his brothers ripping apart his body in an attempt to make him confess. They had drugged him using both concoctions and magic to draw the truth they only could see into his vision, to mentally remove his beliefs and indoctrinate their own. Once the three days of pure agony were over, they had asked him again.

He resisted all of it and repeated his stance. The truth would not be warped in a cruel emulation of reality.

The frustration of his former brothers was palpable and very evident. They then tortured him again, this time out of rage and anger that Balder wouldn't give them what they wanted. The intensity was enough that he couldn’t keep his body conscious any longer and he fell into darkness, praying for his child and wife to be safe.

That was the last time he was awake. It seemed that during his mental absence the trial had begun and was now fully underway, with no way to defend himself or his wife and child.

A fraud. A complete sham. A fabrication of justice.

“The crime you have been charged with is of the most severe category. You forged a bond with one of the light and broke our sacred commandments, Rosa Florecer!”

That was the voice of the Umbran Elder. Balder tried to lift himself up to see what was going on in the room around him, but his arms could not move. His muscles were atrophied far beyond what could be considered unhealthy.

Or he was being restrained with spells. The numbness in his limbs felt entirely unnatural.

“You have fraternized with one of our Order and produced a repugnant heir; a Child of Light and Dark. The most despised creation that will ever possibly exist.” That was the voice of his leader, the Lumen Father. “Do you have any words you could possibly say in your defence?”

Leave her alone. They left their clans for a reason and it was to be left alone with their lives. If Cereza was never trained as a Witch or Sage then she could never bring the prophecy about. Especially if she was never granted the clarity of an Eye.

“I have no words to say.”

Rosa’s voice cut through the air with defiance, filling his inert form with hope.

 “Then why!? Why would you dare fornicate with one of… them!? The one person you simply could not! Explain yourself now, traitor!”

His abilities were very slowly returning and he could sense Rosa from behind his current position. His wife was in pain, but her spirit was strong and her will overflowing. He imagined her standing there, her head held high and not backing down from anything or anyone. Cereza would be timidly standing behind her mother, but Balder knew she would be protected forever more.

“I love my husband. You cannot and will not change that.”

Splutters from the Umbran Elder were drowned by the forceful voice of the Lumen Father. “You do not love my son, coronzon, you bewitched him with your wiles. The same goes with that abomination you call a da-”

“My child is the most precious being in my life and I will not let you slander her with these provocations!”

“You have sired into this world a foul chimerae of the most wicked sort! These are not slanderous words or anything of what you foolishly believe; they are the truth!" The Elder bellowed, their words reverberating through the room in a cruel, mocking echo. "And you believe that this unholy union is a mere act of love!?"

“I need not explain more, for you will not and continue to refuse to listen.”

"You, Florecer, have brought upon one half of the calamity. This is an affront punishable by only one possible outcome," the words of the Father hung in the air for a moment. "That is death to those involved and those… created from it."

"What!?"

Balder tried to force himself to move. Over and over, again and again he ordered his muscles to take action, yet nothing wanted to obey. The spell was just too strong.

"My child is innocent!"

"Your child is the most guilty of them all. Bring it in."

Cereza wasn’t with her!?

No.

No.

"Stop hurting me- Mummy? Daddy?"

No.

A prayer tried to form on his lips, but he could not move them and he nauseously realised that those he would pray for were the ones who wanted her deceased.

"Cereza!"

"Mummy!"

No!

"At least be glad that we have offered a small mercy in letting you see your abomination one more time. Yvinne! Bring forth the executioner!"

No, please, he had to do something please don't let her die please don't no no no no no no

"No! I'm-"

A gunshot rang out and Cereza screamed. Balder could not.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted nothing more than to run and kill those who had just slain his wife in cold blood for absolutely no reason other than-

He vaguely heard a body falling to the ground, flesh smacking against the stone in an unnatural symphony. His body screamed at him to do anything to stop his daughter’s screams, to help her and console her, but nothing happened.

"Shut it up. It needs to die anyway."

A second gunshot echoed after the first, and his daughter's cries abruptly-

…

Balder summoned his glaive, roaring with anger as the throes of sleep fell from him. His other hand clutched at the necklace around his neck, holding onto the tube with a deathgrip. He sat up in his cot and kept that position while breathing heavily.

Was it a memory? Or was it an omen of what he missed? His memory of the trial that announced his family’s fate was hazy at best. If they were to kill them, then at this forgery it would have occurred.

His trial that had occurred long after their separation was over in almost seconds. His former brothers gave him no chance to defend himself and he was exiled with no contact with the Umbra or his former clan. For twelve years he had wondered about the fate of his wife and child, but no answers had ever been given until a week ago.

He felt his fury begin to dissipate and the glaive followed soon after. Both were gone within seconds and the cold grip of anguish claimed his heart. Exhaling slowly, he covered his face and began to weep. The Sage had spent far too long mourning, but the Prophet had given him both the time and the space for recovery.

If only he was stronger.

If only he-

"Balder."

Steadying himself emotionally, he uncovered his eyes to see the Prophet staring at him with a mixture of concern and apprehension. Swinging his legs over the small stone cot he was given, the Sage gave his attention to his mysterious benefactor.

"Come. It's finally time."

…

"Of what remains of the formerly mighty Umbra, only two Witches now carry the name and title."

Two women appeared in the Prophet's Orb of Memory. One was a platinum blonde who dressed entirely in red; she reminded him of the Umbran Elder for some unknown reason. The other was an ebony brunette who also seemed familiar to him. Balder could not quite place his finger on why.

"Why are there only two Umbra alive?" He asked the obvious question, keeping the discomfort out of his tone and posture. Gesturing to the two, he folded his arms and gave a pointed stare at the blue apparition.

"Once your Lumen brothers were slaughtered, the mortals learned of this affront to nature and the wicked plan that the Umbra possessed. They joined forces with Paradiso and annihilated the Witches in a short campaign now known as the Witch Hunts."

The humans allied with Paradiso? Only those with knowledge of the Light Arts could summon the Laguna-

"A Lumen Sage brokered this alliance?" He could not stop hope from slipping in. There was a survivor? If his memory served him right, some Sages had travelled to Long-Abandoned Thule in an attempt to recover anything from the former joint research facility. Unless their mission was cut short, they would have escaped the genocide that befell his brothers.

The apparition shook its head slowly, despondently averting their gaze. "This Lumen Sage perished later at the hands of these two Witches. Before you continue to get your hopes up, all Sages died once the Umbra learned of their agents' locations."

Balder returned to the two Witches with a withering eye. The one in red seemed to have an air of despair expelling from her, whereas the black-clad woman had a mischievous smirk playing on her lips.

That harlot reminded him of Rosa. His fist curling into a tight ball was the only visible reaction he was willing to offer.

"Tell me about them." He demanded, forcing himself to be gentle. Letting his frustration out on the Prophet would be completely unfair and uncalled for.

"The Witch in red is known throughout history with a cacophony of different titles, each one more extravagant than the former. Her name, however, is Jeanne De'Arc, the firstborn and only daughter of Marion. You may know of her, given her status in the clan."

His previous assumption was correct; Balder was looking at the Umbran Elder's offspring. This Jeanne did share several features; the strikingly grey eyes, sharp cheekbones and the lithe figure associated with the Umbra. Judging from her posture, the girl was presumably nowhere like her mother in regards to her confident and arrogant authority she constantly expelled.

"She grew up sheltered from the horrors of what her clan accomplished, believing still in the old tales. When the truth was revealed to her with the Witch Hunts, Jeanne refused to see reason and disavowed it. She ran and hid in her own fantasy, deluding that she was some sort of protector of the mortals. Her attempts at this lifestyle have ended with millions dead at her own hand. To this day she still tries to convince herself that she is not to blame, when in reality she is."

Delusion was a powerful tool in rejecting reality; Balder had spent four days under it trying to believe that his wife and child were not slaughtered by some madwomen and that his clan had not befallen the same fate. It was a cruel irony to him that one of the surviving Witches still was living in a hallucination.

He almost pitied her. A silent promise passed through his lips to make her realise the truth before she died at his hand.

“What of this one? The woman with the onyx hair?” Balder gestured to the other Witch.

The Prophet stared off into the distance, a sad smile on their features. “You won’t like what I am about to tell you.”

“I do not care. Any information on the two Witches will be necessary in planning any sort of strike against them.”

He should have known that the Prophet was right. Balder reflected when his emotions had calmed down that he also should have been a bit more specific in his line of questioning.

“Her name is Bayonetta. She was the one to kill Cereza Onythyll five hundred years ago.”

…

A portal opened in front of the pair, orange and black flames licking at the serene blue. Balder folded his arms and waited for instructions.

“I can only maintain this portal for a few more minutes, otherwise our enemies will take notice of us.” The Prophet held their posture in a wide pose, blue magicks flowing from their fingertips and into the edges of the portal. “Now, a week ago the two Umbra were attacked by their own Demons. It seems that even Inferno is now tiring of their antics.”

“How do you know this?” He didn’t look away from the visage of Inferno. Rosa had described the realm of darkness as the deepest, darkest nightmare that you had tucked away long ago. Did it remind him of those?

No.

The Prophet's words irked him, but he could not figure out why. Balder dismissed the notion and returned his attention back to the spirit.

“It was foreseen long ago by me. I simply watched it while you were recovering from the revelations I shared with you.” He could see them turning to him in the corner of his vision. “One of the Witches perished.”

Balder did not offer a visible reaction.

“Jeanne saved Bayonetta from an unfortunate demise and died from an attack by an Infernal.”

Balder felt a strange relief flowing through him. His posture relaxed slightly and his lips upturned slightly. A small twinge spiked through him, of anger that he would not be able to bring judgement to those who had wronged him.

“You will get your chance for revenge; I promised that. Now, I have located Jeanne’s soul in Inferno; if you want to draw out your family’s killer, you need to give her a reason to come out.”

“Her soul will perish either way.” Even he knew the ultimate fate of the Umbra.

“Indeed. But our enemies are moving to rescue her soul and restore it to her body.” The apparition stated. “We need to put her soul into a position where the process is hastened.”

There was something off about the wording of the Prophet's explanation. His own knowledge of the end of an Umbra’s life was limited, but even he knew that when a Witch died her body became crystallised and the soul was devoured by their Patron. It was a rarity to hear that a body survived, let alone their soul stranded in Inferno.

“How do you propose we do that?”

The Prophet chuckled. “It is very simple; I have a contact in Inferno that I’ve made a few deals with. If you can get there and claim the soul before an Infernal does, you can deliver it to them.”

“I suppose this cuts down the time they have to reclaim it?” He politely asked for the obvious clarification.

“Correct. The less time they have, the more panicked they will become. Panic drives a human to make rash decisions, and then they will throw all caution to the wind in order to achieve their goals.” They answered with a nod. “They will come directly to us, and will get your chance to attain what is rightfully yours.”

The Prophet had shared the knowledge that upon this mountain was the only functioning portal to Inferno, aptly named the Gates of Hell. Their plan was to entice the Witch and Loki to the Gates when they attempted to rescue their ally, which Balder found very illogical. Why would this Loki want to rescue someone he considered a tool? He understood the Witch’s motivation, but that was the extent of his knowledge.

The apparition's face grew serious and interrupted his musing with a tutter. “Do you understand the task placed at your feet? Of what must be done?”

“I do.”

“Then be on your way. I will know when your task is finished, and I will return you to Purgatorio.”

Balder walked forward and let the heat of Inferno take him. The portal hissed shut behind him, leaving him inside hell. Literally.

He let himself smirk at that. The irony was palpable.

…

Inferno was strange.

Balder reflected instantly that the descriptor was not exactly apt. Inferno was a different realm to Paradiso or even Chaos; whereas the former reflected the latter, the Underworld resembled the hellscapes the human literature constantly described it as. Dark rocks contrasted against the red sky, shrouding the immediate area in waves of pain and hatred.

Sometimes literally.

Those Demons were what he expected. But it seemed that in five hundred years the realm had changed as well. Nothing crawled around him. The normally omni-present Demons were scant and few between; any stragglers or those curious enough to give him a closer look were dispatched with ease.

His mask and hood were drawn over his head, protecting the last vestiges of his body from the elements. Balder assumed that the Prophet would have opened the portal close to their target, but with the ever changing landscape before him the soul could be anywhere by now.

…

The Prophet gestured to the small, stone hovel upon the mountain with a sneer. “Here is my humble abode. Please, be welcome to use it; I have no need for it.”

Balder let his gaze wander around the barren and rocky environment. His gaze furled into a frown, raising an eyebrow at the apparition. “Where is your body? If this is your home, I was expecting to see something more physical of you.”

A laugh rumbled through the air, echoing off and into every direction. “Balder, my body is currently participating in tasks to make sure our little revenge scheme actually is doable. What you are seeing here,” he gestured to himself. “Is one of many apparitions I have at my disposal. Not to say that you aren’t as important; it’s just that I’m multitasking a lot of tasks at the current moment.”

“Understandable.” He returned his attention to the building, relaxing his features slightly. “It seems you do not live in splendour, for a being as powerful as you are.”

“Splendour can wait. This place suits my needs, and is unassuming to prying eyes.”

Balder stepped through the entrance, taking note of what he saw. A bench sat upon one wall and a lower one was across from it; the latter, he assumed, was the bed. It was completely bare otherwise. An upgrade from the cell, but the same of his home during his exile.

It would do.

“What is this task you have asked of me? Why do we not pursue this ‘Loki’ with haste?” He spoke while folding his arms.

“Because we need to draw him out. The more his scheme unravels, the greater chance of him making a mistake. Only then can we strike.” The Prophet floated through the wall and landed next to him. “My task is for you to permanently remove one of many annoying pieces before it has a chance to be.”

The Sage narrowed his eyes and waited for an explanation.

“For three months I have been undermining our foes, lulling them into a false state of security. I have taken away their powers and their foes, so when they both inevitably return they will be forced into a scenario I want.” The Prophet smiled. “And when our target inevitably perishes, that is when you come in. I will need you to make a trip to Inferno so the trap can truly be laid.”

“Inferno?”

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been blocking pathways in and out of that place, except for one that I needed to use as a distraction.” The tone was very condescending with this explanation; Balder did not appreciate that. “I’ll open them briefly to drop you in, then to pick you up once it is complete.”

“How will you know where I am? Blocking the pathways means you have no way of contacting me once I am inside.” He raised the other eyebrow.

“I have foreseen how you will end up, and where she will fall. I might be off by about five minutes, but you can walk.”

An amused snort escaped him. If the last twelve years had proved anything, Balder was the master of walking.

…

The thorns of the forest seemed to retract and curl away as Balder marched through.

It was unsettling, to say the least. Being a Lumen Sage had given him enough experience with Daemonlogy to know that they would be fighting each other to claim his soul and power; the conspicuous absence of anything he knew or was familiar with was very glaring as a sore spot.

Balder wasn’t above saying it unsettled him.

Coming to a ridge in the forest, he peered over the cliffside and found a vast clearing beneath him. A slight frown creased his forehead when he took in the lone figure in the centre.

The pulse of his target lay ahead, past this sentinel. Either this was part of the landscape, some abandoned statue of an old warlord long gone or someone knew he was coming and placed a roadblock on the map.

Considering how easy it had been to traverse Inferno, the latter seemed the most likely.

Resigning himself to whatever fate lay ahead, Balder jumped down and landed on the ground hard, erupting a cloud of rest dust from the impact. Standing upright, he let his senses trail out before him, exploring every nook and cranny of the immediate area.

Nothing.

The frown increased in intensity. Taking a few steps forward, he summoned his glaive with a flash of white light and held it by his side. Not defensively or aggressively, as he did not want to appear as a threat, but the weight of the weapon was a reassurance in this foreign situation. And it would give him the appearance of a capable warrior that wasn’t to be taken easily.

The figure was a suit of armour. Sickly greenish grey scales covered it from head to toe with each joint protected by a sharpened ridge. A red cape flowed around the shoulders, reaching down to the ground and giving the figure a larger, almost looming presence. Red horns protruded from the mask, framing the permanently furious gaze of the plate. A massive slab of a sword rested underneath its interlocked fingers.

And yet, nothing expelled from it. Balder walked closer to the figure and gave it another look over. Why was it here? It was unlike any Demon he had ever seen before, or heard of. There were whispers of Infernal Knights who served under the previous ruler, Argosax, but Mundus had never been that interested in conquest. At least to the extent of his predecessor.

Was Mundus even still the ruler of Inferno? If that was not the case, then this figure could have-

Blue fire erupted from the sword and Balder jumped back, now holding the glaive defensively. Lines traced themselves from the blade outwards, lighting up the armour with the same hue as the flames. The eyes of the mask glowed a brilliant shade of orange and a long groan filled the silence in the air.

Balder’s eyes narrowed. That was definitely not normal in any sense of the word.

One finger twitched.

A presence now played at his senses, almost taunting him with its intangibility. This was no coincidence; something was watching him and this was their way of testing his abilities.

The armour shuddered, then moved to face him. One hand lifted up with jerky, uncoordinated motions and palmed the grip of the sword, ripping it from the ground and by its side. The other hand fell limply in the air.

“What are you?” He asked, moving to hold the glaive as a quarterstaff. The armoured figure did not respond verbally. Instead, it lifted its free arm and gestured to him with a ‘come here’ motion.

It was time to see if twelve years was enough to waste his skills and powers. Balder found himself anticipating this clash far more than he should be.

Adjusting the glaive onto one hand, he tossed it at the armour. The foe knocked it to the side with a swing of the giant blade, but he summoned it back to his side with a flick of the wrist. Letting magic flow through him, he dilated time and sprinted to the left of the armour, readying another spell when he arrived. The flow resumed as normal and several fireballs rose from his open palm. They struck the figure with loud, hollow clangs and drove it back a few feet.

Not wasting any moment, Balder tossed the glaive once more. It pierced the shoulder and blasted cleanly through. Slowing time once again, he reappeared behind the figure and caught the weapon, smoothly separating the blade in two and making a strike at the legs.

The foe turned around and caught him before he could. The slab whistled through the air in an overhead slam, and Balder knew that he could not hope to deflect or block the strike. Slipping around it with a twist, he answered with a downwards slice of his own.

His glaive bounced off the bracer with a clang.

The foe punched him with its free hand and he stumbled backwards. The sword whipped out twice, but each was dodged with desperate lunges. Balder refixed his glaive together and parried one particularly heavy backhand. The force was enough to rip his weapon from his hands and send it clattering off the rocky ground.

His strategy instantly changed; Balder summoned a blue orb and pushed it forward with a thrust of his arms. It struck the armour in the chest and it jolted to a halt. Clicking his fingers towards the sky, he dragged his hand down and called out one word.

“LEVANAEL!”

Lightning coursed down and shattered the armour in one blow. Molten shards flew in all directions and the sword fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. Recalling his glaive back to his hand, Balder observed the cooling shards with curiosity.

If his assumptions were correct, the armour was hollow with no body to utilise it. Whatever had been possessing it was far away and nowhere near his location. Balder let his gaze wander around, then snapped it back to the top of the cliff behind him.

A giant birdlike Demon stared down at him. It gave off a chortle, then flapped its wings and disappeared out of sight behind its most recent perch.

His gaze did not leave the cliffside for a full minute.

…

“Should I expect any resistance inside Inferno itself?” Balder watched as the Apparition floated around with a hand on their chin.

“Balder, you are walking into Inferno.” It dryly answered.

“Duly noted, Prophet, but considering they are still the allies of the Umbra I expect there to be more zealotry in their defense of their property.” He too answered with a bite in his tone. He was not a youngling; he did not appreciate the condescension.

“Zealotry? The Infernals are still busy fighting among themselves over who is their true leader. Even now they fight, despite one being chosen for them. One has even grown a Blood Tree in order to attain power.”

It seemed that nothing changed in the five hundred years. “What is happening? You’ve mentioned this Qliphoth before.”

The Prophet laughed. A long, haunting laugh that felt completely unnatural in his ears. “Nothing to worry about, Balder. You do not need to think about what is going on in some parts of the world.”

“But I will warn you that there are those who wish to see their former selves restored to glory,” the Prophet grew serious. “Loki is one of these beings. And besides, he will make the pathway forward difficult if he catches onto us.”

…

The Demon could have been a servant of Loki and recognising that was enough to put him on edge. Now the Enemy was aware of his movements and he really did not have time to lose; every second wasted was one he could never get back, regardless of his capimao abilities.

Swiftly, he turned and jumped forward. His magic glowed brightly and he took the form of the wolf-within, the transformation occurring instantaneously. His paws pressed against the ground and he shot off like a bullet.

Aside from summoning his Angelic patrons, most of his powers seemingly were restored. It was almost like they had never left.

The spirit he was searching for was rapidly approaching. An estimation took him at maybe two minutes, possibly a lot less if the way forward was empty of foes.

Somehow he knew the words would come back to haunt him. But as soon as the thoughts stopped echoing through his mind, the forest opened up to a barren plain and revealed a grand melee. Balder slid to a halt atop a small outcrop, his eyes narrowing and taking it all in.

Demons of all types fought against each other; some he recognised as Hatred and Hideous, the two Infernals that were normally the foes himself and his brethren fought as Overseer of Light. Others were unknown, buglike monsters that savagely tore at their opponents throats like beasts. The rest disappeared into the melee, indistinguishable to the rest of the mass of bodies.

He remembered the Prophet telling him that there would be a ‘contest’ of sorts for the soul of the Umbra. Balder expected to see major Demons partaking in this, not minor orderlies. A theory came to him that the larger players were simply testing the waters, but if they wanted a powerful Umbran soul they would simply get it themselves. The Madama court was arrogant, but not incompetent.

Perhaps this was Loki’s doing. Remove all potential factors that may take the soul before he managed to get into a position to rescue it; that was something he personally would have done. But again, it did not make sense. None of this did.

Disregarding the melee with a huff, Balder encircled it in an attempt to find an opening. He could feel the pull of the soul from within and he was half expecting it to be devoured at a moment's notice.

Demon after Demon was tossed out of the melee, their bodies falling and landing in unmoving sculptures on the landscape. The size of the pack was slowly dwindling, and Balder retransformed back into his normal self. He would have to play clean up duty.

Fire danced around him, swirling into a vortex above his aloft left palm. He stared at it for a split second, then shook his head and dissipated the spell. Demons resisted fire; an Infernus technique would serve only to anger the Infernals and not destroy. Frigus would serve him better upon this occasion.

He need not have bothered.

The ground began to tremble, throwing the Sage off balance. He recovered with a backflip, balancing himself in a crouch with one hand firmly planted on the ground. Glancing up to the melee, he found the Demons sprinting away in fear. The purple apparition of the Umbra Witch was all that remained, lying uselessly on the ground.

Balder kept his eyes on his surroundings as he slowly approached the spirit; Infernals did not run in fear so easily. He supposed a Madama could be on her way to retrieve her prize, but to his knowledge none of the Madama’s were seismic users. The few magic-wielders of the court tended to specialise in Soul-Arts and the strongest of those was the Mistress of Time. None of them used elementals.

That could have changed in the five hundred years he was missing from history. But either way, something big was coming. His glaive flashed into his hand and he planted it in the stone, giving the floor a glare.

“Come on out, you wicked Demon!” Balder found himself snarling. “Do not give me another wasted second; if you seek this prize, then challenge me for this spectre if you dare!”

The ground, much to his dismay, was not the part of the landscape that answered. The sky unleashed with a scream of pure agony and a smouldering figure fell. It landed across from him in a heap, cracking the upper layers of the stone. The Demon rolled itself over using its torn, leathery wings and stood upon its haunches, seemingly barely able to stand. Its skin was black, charred by the dwindling fire from within that made it glow. Two broken horns protruded from its head, which had no eyes and no nose he could see.

Blind and anosmic. Balder assumed it either used magic or its hearing was vastly superior than the norm.

“Just what foul creature are you?” He asked and the Demon’s head snapped to him.

“Do not get between the Princes and their prey.”

The ground quaked as another one burst up beside the first. This one was identical except for two key changes; its extremities were gone, leaving behind a stubby pair of legs and arms. This one had its eyes and nose on its face, and the red orbs were trained on him. Balder didn’t like assuming, but it seemed that these ‘Princes’ complemented each other. He would wager the second one could not hear or feel.

“Unfortunately, Infernals, this Witch is my target. Either leave with your pride shattered but your lives intact, or I will annihilate you.” He popped the glaive from the ground and pointed it at the Demon from Below. “And just in case you cannot hear me, Demon, this is the message I send to you.”

It roared in response. The Demon in Pain held one hand out and the former calmed down. “A Sage challenges us…”

“We have not hunted a Sage in thousands of years. Back when Father was still the Primordius of Calamity, we used to pick out the strongest of your clan and duel them. We always won.”

“And now our legacy points us towards the last Lumen Sage.”

The Demon from Below squinted and peered scrutinizingly at him, leaning forward on its stubs to do so. “Did the last Lumen Sage not fall with the Arch Eve’s defeat of the Father?”

“It seems our intelligence was mistaken. We will rectify that.”

“You both seem so sure of yourselves,” Balder glared, letting the glaive twirl until it was held at his side. “Yet you both do not see the obvious fact; I am no Sage.”

His free hand curled into a ball, then splayed out with a thrust. A golden orb encased the soul of the Witch and his attention was now fully on the twin Demons. “My status was revoked when I was exiled from the clan for daring to love. It has not been reinstated, regardless of the genocide of my former brothers. What stands before you is a man who will stand at nothing to bring vengeance for his dead wife and child; that starts with obtaining the soul you so desperately desire!”

The Demon in Pain roared, a harsh sound that grated against his ears, whilst the Demon from Below lurched forward with both ‘arms’ raised. Balder side-stepped the accompanying slam and answered with an overhead slice at the left stub. His glaive bounced off the Demons hide and he quickly twirled away to rethink his strategy.

The other Demon did not let him. Its maw opened and a red mist expelled from it, covering and enveloping the immediate area around his person. Balder jumped to regain his vantage, but a strike from the Demon from Below knocked him back to the ground. A loud scream of agony rippled through the mist, and then it exploded. The Sage was tossed around like a small ball from the forces, but landed back on the ground in a crouch.

The Demon in Pain lunged forward again, but this time Balder was prepared. Holding his hand out, he raised it and spoke another word of power.

“SIZICIEL!”

Small meteorites rose from the ground and launched themselves into the incoming Demon. The projectiles slammed into the beast and halted its advance, flaying away skin and flesh and shattering bones. The other arrived with a leap, fire filling its palms. Balder dilated time and sprinted around the slowed Demon, only restoring it when he was far enough that the resulting explosion did not affect him. The Demon in Pain twisted around to follow him, scraping its claws on the ground and swiping with a backhand.

Balder merely parried the strike with an almost lazy twirl, spinning the glaive with a flick of his wrist. The Infernal stumbled and he took the opening by jumping onto its flayed wings. His glaive struck into the joints connected the limbs to the body, slicing through the flesh with ease. Kicking the disembodied wings away, he raised his hand to the skies and called upon the lightning once more.

Before he could utter a word, the Demon from Below appeared in his vision and engulfed his body with a tackle. It roared in his face, releasing him and raising its body to strike with the limbs once more.

‘My Liege.’

The power of Paradiso filled him and he could see a faint golden glow emanating from his hand when he raised it. A familiar word filled his mind and he invoked it with one, blasting breath.

“ZIRACAH!”

A golden sigil appeared high in the sky, opening up to reveal Fortitudo diving at the pair of Demons.  It landed onto the stone and shook the ground with a small earthquake. This force was enough to throw the Demon off balance and it stumbled away from the prone Sage, rejoining its sipling with a screech. The Auditio answered with a roar from both draconic heads and struck before either Demon had a chance to prepare themselves. It took one in each of their mouths; the size difference giving the impression that the colossal Angel was making the Infernals look like children's toys. Their jaws snapped shut and the two were devoured without fanfare.

“Hmm, you are not who we expected.” Fortitudo’s main head seemed to crease with a frown. “The last we heard of you, you were dead.”

“Do not reveal my future to me, Auditio.” Balder sat up and regarded the Angel with apprehension. “My goal is vengeance for my family, not to learn my fate.”

The Auditio’s frown increased. “What do you mean by that? Do you even know of your family’s fate?”

“The Prophet told me that the Umbra Witches killed them. I’m merely enacting vengeance upon those who escaped the Witch Hunts.” He climbed onto his feet and folded his arms. “I will call upon your aid when it is necessary, along with your brethren.”

“We see.” Fortitudo was acting suspicious. Normally the Angel would be the first of the Auditio to believe in judgement upon those who wronged its summoner, but it seemed wary of his words. Almost as if it did not believe them.

“What is the matter?” Balder vocalised the thoughts instantly. “Do you not believe this is the proper way to attain vengeance?”

“What is your plan, Right Eye? To take this spirit and use it as leverage? That is most dishonourable.”

“When dealing with the deceitful and lying Witches, you have to be. Fighting those without honour will lead to a most certain death.” Balder turned his gaze to the golden sphere and dismissed the shield with a wave of his hand. “Do you not agree?”

“We see your argument, we just do not believe it is necessary. Witches are prideful folk; a challenge to them would be met with the same zealotry.” It rumbled, taking flight with a few flaps of its wings. “It would do you well to keep that in mind.”

A portal to Paradiso opened up behind the Angel. It stopped before entering, turning back to him. “It pleases us to see you in much more… favourable spirits, Balder Onythyll. We will give word to the rest of the spheres that you have returned.”

Balder acknowledged it with a nod and watched it fly back into the Portal. It snapped shut with a soporific hiss, leaving only the ambient howling wind as the only sounds. Tentatively, he walked over to the Umbra Witch and stared down at the spirit with hatred.

Jeanne De’Arc. The woman was completely identical to the vision the Prophet had shown him, despite the fact she was in the nude and was transparent purple in her hue.

This was the woman who had been sheltered her entire life and fed lies of the most heinous nature in order to keep her blind from the truths of her clan. And now, Balder was going to-

Why would they hide the truths of the clan to their heiress?

Another surge of doubt passed through him and he shook his head to dismiss it. The woman was still complicit in the murder of his wife and child; there would be no hesitations. They did not show Rosa or Cereza any mercy and neither should he.

Ahn ooa lap od ooa. An eye for an eye.

“Is someone there?”

Balder froze up at the sound of the disembodied voice. Slowly, the woman began to stir with wracking coughs and stiff movements.

“I can’t hear or see well… Please, is there someone there? I need to know.”

Her voice was full of so much pain and terror. His heart began to feel sympathy for her, but he hardened it again. She showed no sympathy to his family. This was the ultimate fate of the Umbra and she was simply living the experience.

“I can sense someone there… It’s faint… But I know you aren’t a Demon. You… Damien? Is that you?”

What? Who? Damien was a male name, so it could not be a pseudonym for her Umbran sister.

The Witch’s hand reached out in his direction weakly, barely held up by her lack of strength. “Have you come to rescue me?”

‘Balder.’

The Prophet seemed to be starting to lose his patience. The Sage stood up straighter and shook his head again. What is it?

‘Have you found her yet?’

I have.

They let out a humoured huff. ‘Then what is the delay? Your next destination is losing patience, just as I am.’

Then tell me where to go. I will get this wretch there.

‘Very well. You are currently in the sixth circle of Inferno. Your next destination is on the seventh. You’ll know when you find her. Or more likely, she will find you.’

The Prophet receded from his mind, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Balder was starting to feel a little doubtful at this behaviour from the being; surely this would not matter? Time was not necessarily of the essence; not many Infernals had taken interest in the soul of the Witch and it was now under his personal protection. If it was really necessary, he could wait lifetimes to deliver her.

The spirit's arm had fallen and she was now sprawled on the ground, breathing heavily. Did the girl not know that she did not need to breathe?

“Please, if that is you Damien… I can feel something Lumen in the air, and that must be you. It can’t be anyone else. Just tell me that it is you!”

The woman was now staring directly at him. The pupil-less eyes, inhumanely blank, bore into his soul and guilt spiked in him.

“I’m sorry for causing everyone so much trouble. I should have been stronger and seen the betrayal coming. I’m sorry, please! Touch me or something! I need to know you are real!”

He had to stop it now before it was too late. Balder walked over and roughly grabbed the woman by the chin and reached up to his mask with his other hand. “I am not this Damien you speak of. Gaze upon the face of those who you have wronged in every aspect of life!”

He slipped off the facepiece and the Witch did not react with confusion, like he expected. She recognised him and her eyes widened with fear.

He knew of her; but he did not know of her. Balder barely knew the Umbran Elder through meetings and convenings between the two clans; her daughter was just another person that was someone he was vaguely aware of. If the intelligence the Prophet had provided him was correct, then Jeanne would not have known of him during her days in the clan.

This was not something he expected.

Her breathing began to speed up to a very erratic and frantic pattern. Each one was deep and laboured, as if the spirit was truly struggling to draw each one. Her limbs began to push at him, weakly trying to push him away. Balder came to a realization that she was terrified of him and he found himself questioning why; why would the daughter of someone he barely knew react like this?

“No…” She moaned, her voice quivering with fear and panic. “No, you’re dead! You- You- You-”

Jeanne was choking on her own words. Balder released her and watched with turmoil as the Witch bundled herself into a ball, rocking and moaning disputes about his existence.

He had done this. The Witch had known him from some point of history and his appearance had been enough to send her into a traumatic paralysis.

“What did I do?” He asked, hiding his uncertainty with anger. When the Witch did not answer, he grabbed her chin again and screamed the question in her face. “What did I do, Umbra Witch!?”

“I can’t ever escape you.” She covered her ears, then her eyes in an attempt that he recognised as a childish way of making him disappear. “You’re not real! Cereza will save me! Damien will save me! We killed you once, we can kill you-”

“You killed Cereza.” He coldly stopped her, rage beginning to fill his veins. “My daughter died because of your clan's idiocy and arrogance! And now you dare invoke her name? Do you think to mock me!? You will suffer for every person your clan has taken, Jeanne, and you are nothing but the sheltered fool that will finally learn the truths of your pathetic life. Once I have delivered you to my final destination here, I will kill this Bayonetta. If this Damien decides to interfere, then he too will suffer the same fate.”

He reached down with a gloved hand and Jeanne flinched away. Grunting with annoyance, he thrust out and grabbed her wrist. The Witch screamed and violently jerked her body away, breaking his grip.

“I will not repeat myself, Jeanne.” He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her until she was level with his face. She weakly kicked at him, but they lacked any force. “What did I do to you?”

The girl was crying. He did not care.

“Tell me!”

Her eyes screwed shut and she began to ramble. Words repeated in an endless stream that unsettled him to his very core.

“You’re not real, the nightmare is over. You’re not real, the nightmare is over. You’re not real, the nightmare is over…”

Lowering his arm, he let the Witch fall to the floor. Uncertainty filled him and Balder began to drag the woman towards the seventh circle of Inferno.

…

Jealousy.

The stench of envy permeated every inch of the seventh circle. It lashed at him, tempting him with the promises of more power, but he did not listen to it. The realm of Inferno was known to ensnare visitors with false pledges, just like Paradiso, and he knew his purpose in this place; he would not be swayed from it.

Balder could sense that something was lurking in the shadows, watching him with seething emotions, but he could not find them. Each glance he sent to the thorny surroundings granted him no clarity.

Jeanne continued her mad ramblings each step of the trek. No matter what the Sage did, the Witch continued to cry in her hysterical state. Truth to be told he was tempted to toss her off the side of a cliff and let whatever Infernal came across her have her way with her, but the promises of the Prophet echoed through the constant noise and he stayed his hand for now.

In the distance strange growths began to crawl up into the sky, twisting and turning in bulbous grips. They seemed to congeal into a spherical object that was partially hidden in the angry red clouds.

Vines, Balder realised. One of the branches grew on the path next to him and he took a short moment to examine it. Red thorns prickled out from a fleshy pink bark that squirmed and rippled like a restrained criminal.

It seemed that hate flowed through Inferno no matter what.

The further in he walked, the more the realisation finally started to sink in; his destination had to be this floral structure. Slowing down to a halt, Balder released the Umbra Witch and folded his arms.

Is this the place?

The weight of the Prophet filled him, almost tranquil with their presence. ‘I believe so, Balder. The palace of the Whisperer of Insanity is what lays ahead; you will not need to gain entry.’

Why is that?

The Prophet did not answer; for he did not need to.

“What’s this? A lowly human, inside of Inferno? Completely and utterly alone?”

The female Demon’s voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. Balder did not feel the familiar prickle of telepathy within the speech, but he also could not sense the origins either. The Sage returned his attention to the vine beside him and let his vision trail up and down it.

“Are you the ruler of this place?”

The Demon hissed and smaller vines sprouted off the main branch, spiraling into sharpened points. They all took aim at him, encircling and ensnaring him without making any physical contact. “Just who are you to make demands like that? I am the Queen to be of Inferno, not some common Infernal! Treat me with the proper respect or meet your imminent demise!”

“I do not care for your petty squabbles with the rest of Inferno,” he gestured with a flat palm to the slowly curling spirit to his side. “I offer you a…”

A gift? Balder was not trying to win the favor of any Demon today, and certainly not ever in his lifetime.

A token? As far as he knew the deal was with the Prophet and the Demon, not him. He was merely playing the messenger, not anyone or anything important.

His eyes inadvertently wandered down to Jeanne and he paused. In her current position, the Witch reminded him so much of-

Cereza was dead. This Witch had killed her with both her actions and inactions. She deserved no mercy from him.

“I offer you a morsel to aid you in your rise to power. I have brought you the soul of an Umbra Witch, Infernal, which I am led to believe is a rarity in the Underworld these days.” Balder motioned to the figure with both hands now. “Take her, for I have no use for it.”

“You…” She seemed a little shaken. “Why offer it to me? Is this one of the Prophet’s games!?”

So the two were connected. Balder noted the wording, but paid no mind to it. Demons were known for their wariness and skepticism with deals. After all, you could always trust your deceitful liars to lie.

“The Prophet has promised me revenge on those who have wronged me; all I had to do was follow their directive. Just what did they promise you?”

“They promised me the same; vengeance and power over those who have denied me my rightful place in Inferno!” She raged and Balder turned to the direction they had walked from. He could faintly see the outline of something scuttling onto the vine, scampering out of sight on the concealed part before he had a chance to visualize what he was looking at. “They all laughed at me! They all thought I was just a sham, a mockery of an Infernal! Who will laugh now when I become their Queen, the Primordius of Calamity and a true member of the trinity! Not them! They were weak! I will be strong!”

Balder patiently waited for the tirade to finish, resigning himself to the ranting and raving from the Demon.

“No matter what I tried, they always compared me to her! She’s the superior Madama? She’s nothing more than a common whore who stole the light of my life! She’s nothing more than a bitch who should be made to beg at my heel for mercy! No more shall she-”

“This is all well and good,” Balder let some of his annoyance slip into his tone. “But you cannot become stronger without consuming that which will give you strength. If you have ambitions and now the means to gain them, Infernal, then I will take my leave.”

“Very well, human. I will let you live.” She calmed down considerably, but the emotions were very much still present. A massive clawed hand of pink and red slowly snuck out and grabbed Jeanne, pulling her away and out of sight. “In exchange for this soul you have bargained yourself mercy.”

The sheer arrogance of the Infernal made him want to stay and tear her apart just to prove he could. But he had better tasks to be achieving and enough blood had been shed today, especially if that blood was part of the Prophet’s plan.

I have done it.

‘And so you have. Come, let us bring you back.’

…

The Prophet was waiting for him once he stepped through the portal.

“It has come to my attention that our enemies are moving against us.” The spirit gestured towards a nearby cliff. Balder marched to it and let his gaze wander out. Below him stood a broken and dilapidated stone bridge that had fallen apart long ago, formerly connecting Fimbulventr to a city that lay on the edge of the island.

“What have you seen?” He did not bother removing his mask or hood. If he was to begin engaging the surviving Witch, then he would be glad for its protection.

“She has arrived, along with the trickster.”

Balder felt his fist tighten involuntarily.

“Please, Balder…” The Prophet’s honeyed words were music to his ears. “Give them a warm welcome.”

My First Journal!

Enemy Data:

Neo Angelo

An armoured knight who my grandfather fought during an excursion to Inferno. He has never told me why he was there, just that he was. Anyway, this knight was an empty suit that was possessed by a MYSTERIOUS FORCE and apparently was the basic design for the Nelo Angelo that Vergil once was. According to him Mundus had several suits of these for dissidents; he stole a few to make the Proto Angelo’s that scourged the Qliphoth. Well, this empty suit was no match for Grandfather and it died without too many problems. So either it was weak as shit or Grandfather is strong AF. But it does lead to one thing; Demons are fucking weird, aren’t they?

According to Aunty J’s research this particular suit was meant to contain Dante if Mundus ever managed to trap him. Dante himself thinks that it could’ve contained any hybrid, so I guess Damien could have been trapped in it as well? Don’t think his wing would have allowed it. But then again, a magic wing is a magic wing!

Theme: Ultra Violet (Encounter One) - Devil May Cry (2001)

Twin Demons/Demon Princes

A pair of Demons who are said to be the offspring of Argosax, but no one knows for certain. After all, Argosax disappeared pretty much right after they were toppled from the Primordius of Inferno and only really reappeared again when Arius found a shard and attempted to cultivate out a new Primordius from it. I don’t know how to put this in a way that doesn’t sound super fucking weird, but I have no idea if they managed to ‘get busy’ or even if Demons procreate the normal way. But either way, these two were a formidable duo that Grandfather fought once in a trip to Inferno. They got the best of him briefly, but I personally think he was still getting to grips with his powers at the time. Legend does say the pair can combine into to the true form of the Demon Prince of Hell, but considering they are now fucking dead I don’t think we’ll see them ever again.

Do Demons fuck? Now that’s on my mind because of this and-

Wait.

How else would Dante and Vergil even exist? I’m such an idiot! If Aunty J ever saw this I’d be writing essays on Demonology for weeks!

Theme: Demon Princes (Phase 1) - Dark Souls 3 (2016)

Jukebox

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Character Data

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Chapter Text

Chapter 3: City of Genesis

…

The streets of Noatun held many twists and turns with enough hiding places for anyone looking to slip away in the dead of night. And that’s why this boy turned left, then right, left, left again and finally walked straight into a small nook. Taking a seat and crossing his legs, he looked up the small alcove covering him and hoped it would be enough to stave off any rain.

Sovereign One.

The boy held his head with pain as the voice continued to ripple through him.

The mountain. Come to the mountain. Fimbulventr. Come to Fimbulventr. Rejoin. Come to rejoin.

“Stop!” He cried out in pain. “I just want to go home…”

The mountain is our home.

“Shut up!” Curling into a ball, he wished someone could see him. Someone who could relate to his problems, instead of being Acceptance’s or Affinities. “Just shut up and leave me alone!”

We will not. Come to our home, Sovereign One.

“Please…” He was begging now. To anything or anyone that would listen. “Just stop…”

Collapsing with exhaustion, the boy fell into a fitful, restless sleep, as he always did.

…

“Jeanne!”

Cereza’s voice carried through the air to her falling sister. She recovered with a twist and gave her a nod.

“I am okay!”

Spreading out Malphas’s wings, she slowed her descent and activated Witch Time when she landed onto the tumbling clock face beneath her. Gesturing to her sister to do the same, she gave her a reassuring smile.

“Just stay close to me! We’ll be safe here!”

“Cereza, nowhere is safe!”

She almost was offended by that. Cereza put her hands on her hips and tilted her head slightly. “What, are you afraid of a few Angels?”

“It is not the Angels I am afraid of!” She yelled back, pointing down. The Witch’s brow creased and she let her gaze follow down between her legs to see a golden sword cleaving through the broken clocktower like a spade through soil.

Cereza merely rolled her eyes and pointed her guns down whilst the makeshift platform split apart. Her lips curled into a smirk and she waited with glee for the assailant to introduce themselves. “Well, no one said you could touch.”

A person dressed entirely in white leaped up from beneath her, a twinblade twirling in their fingers. Cereza stepped to the side and let them fly up and above her. The trainee guns she had been issued with a short week ago blazed with each shot she sent at him and she was certain the man was dead before he had a chance to actually engage with her.

A pity. Just why was Jeanne so afraid-

The man landed on the other side of the platform; one arm outstretched and the other holding the twinblade at the ready. His gloved fingers opened to reveal her bullets falling to the ground, completely and utterly harmless.

“A Lumen Sage?” The identity of the man finally clicked and she stepped forward with obvious surprise etched on her face. “Just how are you still alive? No one bloody bothered to tell me that you were still alive. I’m fairly certain our clan killed the lot of you when you decided to wage war on use three years ago.”

The Sage offered no answer. His mask, shaped into a golden sun with a single indent in the centre acting as the visible visor, merely turned to face her with an expressionless gaze. The glaive whirled into a low stance and Cereza matched it with one of her own.

“Well, it seems that it would be quite the shame for the last of your kind to go without a spectacular send off,” she twirled the guns in her fingers and took aim once more. “Don’t you agree?”

Yet again, the Sage did not speak. Holding his hand up high, the free hand clicked with a faint snap. A sigil grew in the clouds above them, basking them both in a golden light. Two draconic heads peered out and Fortitudo’s main body followed.

“Umbra Witch; the defiler of Jubileus. The butcher of our kindred. We have come to take vengeance,” it calmly spoke, its voice sending a tremor through the clocktower face. “You will suffer for your deeds!”

“Well, you oversized turkey, how about you come down here and try!” Cereza laughed, moving her left gun up to point at the Angel. “The Left Eye of Darkness bows to no challenge. Especially not from a thing like you.”

To her surprise, the man across from her flinched at her words. He twirled backwards and put even more space between them, ending his brief retreat in a crouch at the end of the platform.

“What? Never seen a woman wielder of the Eye? You are a Lumen Sage; surely you know of how our Clans were divided.” She frowned and adjusted her glasses with a tap of her right gun. “Have you even seen a woman before?”

The Sage growled, a low, inhumane sound that was muffled and warped from the mask, and sprang forward. The glaive spun with him, aiming to slice her in two at the waist. Jumping over the slash, Cereza kicked him in the back of the head and flipped over to the other half of the clockface. He recovered gracefully, separating the glaive into two halves. One was tossed at her and she made small movements to deflect it when it got too close.

It never reached her. Well, not in the expected path. The Lumen Sage disappeared with a greyed-out flash, reappearing next to her and grabbing the spear-like end of the twinblade. It changed course into a slash, one she barely managed to avoid with a desperate sidestep. The second half followed and Cereza blocked that one with a raised heel. Driving her foot and the blade down, she gave him a punch in the mask, followed by an uppercut weave to the stomach.

Fireballs rained around her and Cereza cursed when she remembered that there was a giant Angel still there above her. Thrusting a wicked palm strike out to shove the Sage further back, she twirled and felt her hair weave alongside her spell.

“ARGEDCO!”

Labolas jumped out of the portal above Fortitudo, sinking their fangs straight into the main head. The Angel bellowed in pain and immediately ceased tossing fireballs at her, focussing its attention on the Demon instead.

Good boy.

Cereza returned her gaze to the Lumen Sage, who was currently picking himself back up. One hand gripped his glaive on the floor, whereas the other was held tightly over the right side of his mask.

“Come on, now it’s our turn to dance.” She took another stance and waited for her opponent.

The Lumen Sage raised his head to her, uncovering his eye to reveal a brilliant blue li-

…

The jingle and vibration of her mobile phone interrupted Bayonetta’s dream; this time, however, she did not scream and run for the safety of Luka. Instead, she opened her eyes slowly and pulled the phone from its very convenient storage down her… assets.

L.R : Hey, just wanted to say merry Christmas, Cerezita. May all of our wishes come true today.

A small tree emoji accompanied the message and she managed a small smile.

Yeah, Merry fucking Christmas. That’s what Enzo would say. Speaking of…

“How far are we from our destination?” She asked the empty passenger hold, half expecting silence to be the answer.

“As fucking far away as we need to be!” Enzo screamed back. “How dare you make me miss Christmas with my family so you can get some chauffeuring to God knows where for God knows what! Un-fucking-believeable!”

“Enzo, I promised you that you would just be flying back home, no strings attached, once this was over.” Bayonetta began to tap her right index finger at the virtual keyboard, typing out a message in response. “At worst it’s a half hour trip back home, and you get to take your little ones for a joyride! The ultimate Christmas gift.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffed. “We both know your promises mean nothing.”

“I mean it. Honestly, I’d rather Cheshire be there than you, but I don’t want him to get himself killed. Don’t read into it in a negative way, but the Angels don’t give a shit about you. You can fly in until we reach Noatun’s borders and I can do the rest. I promise you, Enzo. You will be spending Christmas with your family.”

The mortal was silent for a while. “You better keep this one, or else you can pay Alex the kid for the plane.”

That was good enough for her. “You have yourself a deal, Enzo.”

Bayonetta then stared at the message on her phone, mentally trying to decide whether or not it was appropriate given the situation at hand. Shaking her head, she deleted it and restarted, her mind wandering back to the dream she had awoken from.

That was a weird dream, to say the least. It wasn’t a nightmare, like she was very much accustomed to, but it was seemingly a vision given to her by the Eye. Judging by the way it was pulsing with joy, she had gotten that right.

If that was then the case, then what on Earth was the significance of showing her that a Lumen Sage still lived? Rodin was adamant that the Clan had been completely wiped out with the death of Balder, and Bayonetta was very certain that Rodin didn’t lie; the Primordius only withheld the truth if it was absolutely necessary.

She blanched at the title. Going from not knowing, to being reassured that they were just fairy tales, to being told that these mythical beings apparently existed was one hell of a trip. Rodin had revealed that the Trinity of Realities also had three corresponding Primordius shortly after coming to a decision at Luka’s apartment, each with their own roles and responsibilities to the greater multiverse and universe within. Even though she had travelled to two of these, Bayonetta was still coming to grips with the concept of a multiverse; her expectations of alternate realities featuring different variants of herself had been shattered when she had seen a dead world with nothing but clockwork machines and another full of creatures that even she was sure were lost to fantasy.

Damien had visited the other two, which brought the total number of existing universes to five. Rodin had gone strangely quiet when she had asked once how many there were, but eventually revealed and kept his answer as five. Bayonetta figured it was something to do with the closing of the realms between that Temperentia had mentioned so long ago, but Luka’s light research into the topic had found nothing that could shed anything on his vagueness.

But Primordius or not, Rodin was still her friend. Or at least something close to one. But she was getting off topic.

Time travel was something she then considered. Balder had been strong enough to bring a younger version of herself into the present, and Rodin was certain that whoever they were up against was of the same power, if not stronger. But then, what would be the point of bringing one Sage back? Surely bringing the entire Clan to crush her would be far more efficient.

Well, the Sage in question had wielded an Eye. At least that was her theory, given that it was his right eye that was glowing blue. The only point of reference that she had to that phenomenon was Balder during the events of Ithavoll and that was essentially her only evidence that it was the Eye and not some other magical force. Could a Lumen Sage-

She sighed and shook her head. Cryptic visions were Khepri’s, and by extension Damien’s, forte. If Bayonetta wanted to give herself an aneurism she could continue on this train of thought. Or she could not and let the future come at her in the unexpected norm.

‘I agree,’ Butterfly murmured. ‘If only because Khepri’s little games are going a little too far.”

Honestly, same. She held the phone up and reread her second attempt at a message to Luka. What do you think?

‘You could be a little less blunt.’

Bayonetta sighed and deleted the message again.

Butterfly let an awkward silence fill the air before she spoke again. ‘Look… I… This is stupid.’

I agree. You’re the one acting like a petulant teenager.

‘I am not!’

Look, we are in a weird spot, yes, but we need to work together like we always did. Can we just worry about whether or not we can get Jeanne out from Inferno?

‘I can stand with that line of thought.’ Butterfly grew a little sly with her words. ‘Do you not mean that we will get her out?”

Bayonetta chuckled and began typing another message. That I most certainly did.

B : Thank you, Cheshire. I’ll bring our most treasured present back with me for dinner tonight.

‘You forgot to say Merry Christmas.’

Shit, she had. Her finger began to run across the keyboard once more, but a cry from Enzo stole her attention away.

“Holy shit… That’s the mountain!?”

She spun around and pressed her face up against the glass, finally catching her first glimpse of Fimbulventr. The mountain stood indomitably in the background of the flat landscape, dominating and encompassing above all. The town beneath it was dwarfed, almost completely invisible to her eye. Bayonetta could feel something prickling at her senses, almost in a sense of warning and welcome. Rodin’s words echoed through her mind;

“They say the mountain itself seems to expel those it doesn’t deem worthy.”

A part of her must not be deemed worthy, it seemed. Bayonetta felt a little offended at that fact; was she not the strongest Umbra? Who also had possession of one of the two most powerful artefacts in existence?

‘That is probably why. It recognises the Eye, but not its proper wielder.’

“Alright Enzo, you can let me out now.” She called out, unbuckling herself from the seat and stepping towards the door. “You’ve come far enough; go home and be with your family.”

“Thank fucking God for that.” Enzo went uncharacteristically quiet for a few seconds. “Bayonetta?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck. I think you’re gonna need it.”

Bayonetta smirked and opened the hatch. Wind howled into the plane, nearly deafening her in the process. Taking a quick glance down at the undoubtably freezing water, she waited until Enzo turned and pulled the image of Fimbulventr in front of her.

Did you get that new winged Infernal for me to fly with? I’d rather not swim…

Butterfly snorted. ‘Not in the way you would expect.’

No time like the present to test it out. Saluting Enzo with a wave of her hand, Bayonetta dove out with a swan dive, pointing her head towards the rapidly approaching water.

‘This Infernal is not like Malphas; in order to wield its power, you must masquerade as it.’

She frowned at that. What on Earth do you mean?

‘An ancient Umbran Art that is mostly considered forbidden by any of its former practitioners. In terms you can understand, it is similar in form to a Devil Trigger; instead of unleashing the Demon within, you are borrowing aspects of the Contract and fulfilling yourself with them. Mictlantecuhtli understands why they are being brought into service, so do not fret if you feel that they are not being very responsive to your commands.’

Well, they better respond to this command or there would be a Bayonetta-sized splat on the water in a minute or two. Power began to flow into her, and she felt a new presence in her mind.

‘To use my power/You must accept us.’

Closing her eyes, she mentally grabbed onto the offered branch. Her body began to crack and transform, painless and simple. Two wings sprouted from her back and she flapped them instantly, bringing her descent to a halt. Hovering in the air like a dandelion in the breeze, she decided to take a quick gander at just what she had turned into.

Her skin had turned red, and blackened ridges of hard stone crept up her limbs. They joined at her chest, forming a breastplate that extended down her torso like a corset. Two blades sprouted from her forearms and her fingernails had elongated into sharpened claws.

Bayonetta was very impressed at all of this.

‘Thank you mistress/We will aid you for now.’

Moving around in the air with a few small tests, she found that flying was just as easy as it was when she used Malphas’s wings so long ago. Grinning to herself, she began to fly towards Fimbulventr. Just why did she feel so-

Turning around, she found her legs, now completely blue with a set of wings protruding from her hips, floating lazily in the sky. A tether of purple energy connected them, but it seemed that she did not have control over them.

‘Sorry Mistress/We should have warned you of this peculiarity.’

Sighing, she placed her hands on her waist and gave her legs a stern look. “And just where do you think you are going?”

They shook back and forth, as if to say no.

“I need my legs when I get back on the ground. I might be able to walk on my hands, but it would make fighting really difficult.” A sly smirk slowly took over her features. “If you stayed there, it would be very boring. No fighting, no excitement, nothing! I know you don’t want that.”

The legs comically straightened up and flew towards her with great speed. They arrived and bowed to her, sliding back underneath her waist. Patting herself on the bottom, Bayonetta turned and continued onwards. With her legs, this time.

…

Remembering to fly into Purgatorio before arriving, Bayonetta now found herself floating above Noatun with apprehension.

Once she was down there, she was alone in every sense of the word. Unlike Vigrid, where she had inklings on where to go due to her past memories, Noatun was completely foreign to her. A text to Luka had confirmed that there was nothing on the city that could possibly help her. It seemed that every bit of information had been scrubbed.

From what she could currently see, there once was a bridge that connected the town to until about halfway up the mountain. It was broken in several sections, but it was the best hope she had for anything that officially led to the Gates of Hell.

A small part of her wished that Luka had come with her, just so he could research the location on site. But at the same time, she knew leaving him behind was the correct choice. She could save Jeanne if everything went right; if Luka died, it would be a lot more permanent. Bayonetta couldn’t fathom forgiving herself if that ever happened.

And it never would and she was moving on. If Luka wasn’t here to help her out, then she would need to be a big girl and find her own solutions to her problems. That unfortunately started and ended with talking to people.

Decision made, she reformed her body back together and fell to the ground. If she was to talk to people, then she would do a small amount of reconnaissance to determine who she spoke to. Those who were social butterflies were easy to spot, and those who she would not-

Squirrel?

Spreading her legs out, she landed by splitting herself over the petrified animal. Bending her neck down, she noticed it was quite the peculiar squirrel; this one had a small chain with a golden pyramid attached to it wrapped around its neck and a small yellow cape resting on its back. Curiously, she reached out tentatively and grabbed it. It did not run from her hand and to her astonishment sat down and regarded her with the same level of fascination.

Twisting herself around into a seated position, Bayonetta placed both hands under the squirrel and stared at it. It began sniffing the air, seemingly trying to get her scent.

“I didn’t think squirrels were native to this part of the world. You seem very lost, little one.” She observed. “Just where did you come from?”

The squirrel, expectedly, did not answer. A nearby cat hissed and Bayonetta turned to it with an arched eyebrow.

“They fell from the sky? Well, squirrels don’t normally fall from the sky. Now, little one, just why would my feline friend say that?”

The squirrel did not answer again. They remained on her palms, seemingly returning her gaze with befuddlement.

“Well, if you aren’t going to say anything then run along.” She gently placed them onto the ground and pushed the animal in the direction of the city. “I’ve got people to meet and a date to keep.”

The squirrel stood there for a few seconds, then turned back to look at her. They motioned with their paws at her hands, then at her body. Bayonetta frowned, just trying to figure out what they meant-

“Oh! You want to come with me?”

The squirrel nodded.

Placing a hand onto her chin, Bayonetta pondered this peculiarity with a smile. “Where I’m going will be very dangerous for squirrels. I don’t think it will be very safe for you, little one. I’ve already got one friend to find; I do not want to worry about another.”

They shrugged in response. Or at least that what she thought he did. A thought came to her and she decided to voice it.

“Are you some sort of trapped Prince in an animal form? Like in those fairy tales?” A devious smile found its way onto her lips. “Do I need to kiss you to return you to your normal form?”

The speed at which the squirrel shook their head was almost comical. A laugh erupted from her throat and she gestured at the squirrel with a small shake of her hand. “Don’t worry little one. Now, get on going and find a good place to watch the performance of a lifetime.”

Finally, the squirrel ran off, darting over the causeway and into a courtyard. Bayonetta lost sight of them when they dashed behind a water fountain on the left side.

“What an interesting little creature.”

‘That creature was in Purgatorio.’

Indeed they were.

‘I find that very curious. Only a few animals can be in there naturally, and most of them are your feline friends.’

Bayonetta climbed to her feet and tapped her temple with a finger, sliding it down and across her jaw. They are also sentient. That was no basic communication as well.

‘If times weren’t so dire, I would’ve liked you to keep hold of them.’ Butterfly muttered. ‘They remind me of someone, yet I do not know who.’

If I run into them again, I’ll let you do the interrogating. They’re such a cute little thing!

‘Weakling.’

Bayonetta laughed with a shake of her head. Placing her hands onto her hips, she decided to finally take in the city for the first time.

From her position on the harbor, she could see buildings rising up in a mirror image of the mountain behind it. They were clean, with gold and aqua trim framing marble white stonework. Green palm trees gave the place an almost idyllic ambience, reminding her slightly of Paradiso.

The courtyard- well, plaza would’ve been a better term, come to think of it, was surrounded by pools of clear water. Combined with the well-polished stone floor the plaza seemed to glow with a holy, ethereal light.

‘This definitely reeks of Lagunan influence. Be careful.’

I’m always careful.

A blue portal seemed to shimmer from across- No, there was a blue portal open across the plaza. A quick glance at the oblivious mortals wandering around quickly dismissed the notion that it was a reality phenomenon; this poral was here for her, it seemed.

‘Are you really going to walk into another trap?’

This isn’t a portal to Paradiso.

‘Does that make it any better?’

Swiftly crossing the gap with long strides, she found herself standing in front of it with a slight frown on her face. It definitely wasn’t a portal to Paradiso; none of the normal scents or feelings she normally associated with the realm of the Divine were present.

This felt ancient.

One gloved hand brushed against the surface, unexpectedly finding a small amount of resistance. Rolling her eyes, Bayonetta pushed in and walked through.

…

The boy watched the strange woman enter the Remembrance without as much as a second thought. When he first awoke these powers, he was terrified and scared as to what it could possibly signify. The Remembrance of Time was once the power of the former Primordius Aesir, Harbinger and God of Chaos; for him to be able to wield it was a bad omen indeed.

He supposed that some magic simply doesn’t simply ever die when beings disappear. As one of the Trinity, Aesir’s power could have simply been reabsorbed into his inheritor or split amongst those who remained. But did the boy think his abilities being those of the forgotten God was merely a coincidence?

He had no proof to say otherwise.

After establishing that yes, he could somewhat control portals through time to traverse the city a little easier, he found that he couldn’t actually tell anyone about his discovery. Nor could he ask someone for a bloody identity. It seemed that he was stuck inside another realm, separate from Chaos, Paradiso and Inferno, and no one could contact him. Or even see him.

Bloody brilliant that was.

So here he was, just running around and trying to figure out his way from this current predicament when some woman falls from the sky and nearly squashes him. And not only that, she could see him! He was ecstatic at this discovery, only for the woman to simply abandon him and tell him he was not needed.

Fuck that. She could see him. He wanted to know why.

It didn’t take that much longer to form a plan; run out of sight, open a portal and try to corner her in his tiny squirrel form. Worst comes to worse he could simply latch on with his teeth until she finally got the message and let him travel with her.

Jumping and gliding down from his perch atop a nearby roof, the boy landed inside of the Remembrance and closed the portal behind him.

Crap.

He had just closed the one exiting out as well. If only the power of the Remembrance of Time was, you know, controllable.

“Well, aren’t you a very curious squirrel indeed.”

A very clipped tone, followed by the sharp, quick clack of heels on stone caused him to turn and sprint-

The boy slammed into a pillar nearby and collapsed into a heap, the world spinning around and around and around. Two fingers pinched the back of his neck and in an agonisingly swift movement brought him face to face with a very pissed off woman.

“Explain yourself.”

Did the lady not know he was a squirrel? He couldn’t exactly talk in this form.

“Speak!”

The cold fury in her tone spiked fear and he began to squeak. He mimed actions with his paws, tried to formulate words in any language and even pointed at himself and the woman, but nothing seemed to convince her of his somewhat noble intentions.

“Trapping me in this strange room? What does a squirrel want with an Umbra Witch?” Her eyes narrowed, spearing through him with lances of suspicion. “And what are these powers you are using, little squirrel? I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Did she not know of the Remembrance? That was the backbone and soul of Noatun, let alone Fimbulventr! Why would someone who travelled here with obvious intent-

Another thought came to him; just how the fuck did he know that?

“Well, it’s obvious that you can’t or won’t answer me. So, little squirrel, I’m going to take you with me. That way you can’t make any more mischief without me noticing.” The woman lifted him and none too gently placed him on her shoulder. His paws instantly gripped on the raised shoulder pad and he reoriented himself until he was facing the same direction. “And I do suppose you want to come with me, correct?”

He nodded his head. That’s all he wanted in the first place!

She smirked and gestured to the blank wall in front of them. “Are you going to open the way back up? I do need to get going from this… hallway and back to Noatun.”

The boy nodded again and began to wave his paws in circular motions, calling upon the power of the Remembrance. Blue magic glowed in his fingers and flowed from them, collecting into a portal that spiralled into an opening. The woman let out a small sigh and the pair walked out as one.

…

The portal opened out into a twisting alleyway and not the plaza.

This was slightly annoying to Bayonetta as the port and plaza were the only two locations she recognised; if the magic squirrel had dumped her in a random location, then she was very tempted to toss the little mammal into the nearest wall as hard as she could.

But she would not need to bother. A quick glance up informed her that she was still near the lower end of the broken bridge; it seemed that the squirrel had transported her just behind the plaza.

What a curious little thing.

“Say, little one…” She turned her head slight to spot their own perk up. “You don’t happen to know your way around this place?”

They nodded enthusiastically.

Walking along the alley and out onto a street, Bayonetta pointed up and towards the looming mountain. “You see that? I need to go there, because that is where the Gates of Hell are.”

The squirrel began to shake his head rapidly, waving their paws in around with panicked motions. Stopping, they made sure to point at Fimbulventr, then to her, then to Fimbulventr and finally back to her. Each gesture was emphasised with a twist of their neck.

“You don’t want me to go?”

A nod.

Bayonetta couldn’t help but snort at this. “Aw, I’m a big girl. I think I can handle a few demons or two.”

The squirrel shook their head at this and craned their paws towards the mountain. Her eyes followed and stayed on the feature; a chill passed through her spine and the world seemed to get darker-

A cloud had passed over the sun. Bayonetta rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “Come on now, little one. It’s just a mountain.”

‘A mountain that used to house a God.’ Butterfly reminded her. ‘And the most likely place for a trap from our elusive Enemy.’

As if on schedule the ground began to shake. The Witch stumbled, but found herself against the wall of the alley and used it to keep herself upright. She could feel the squirrel gripping onto her shoulder tightly and she used her left hand to lightly pet them. It instantly calmed down.

Judging from the fact the tremors were still going, Bayonetta figured they weren’t going to stop anytime soon. Testing her footing with a few tentative steps, she quickly ran to the end of the alley and onto the street that stretched out towards another plaza. A small canal of water ran parallel to this street, opening up into a fountain that surrounded the plaza.

Turning around to take a look at the other end of the street, the Witch was met with an explosion of water and rubble. A shield was thrown up instantly and the worst of the debris was deflected away. Some large droplets of water broke through, but Bayonetta would rather being wet than stoned in the head by a clump of rock.

A serpentine body rose up from the ground and began encircling the street above the chaos. Golden wings from the upper body flapped lazily in an almost mockery of flight, attached to a gold and crimson cobra-hood that covered a draconic head. Unlike Fortitudo’s head, this Angels seemed far more rigid in its shape; each section of the head was connected piece by piece with gigantic fastenings. Thirteen rings of shimmering gold encased the cyan body, interspaced between six pairs of clawed limbs. The visible skin was porcelain in nature, similar to the Angels she was familiar with, but it was segmented and block-like in structure.

“You again?”

Bayonetta recognised this Laguna from the attack a week ago; this was the specific one that burst through a building and swiped at the jet she was riding. It had disappeared without much fanfare after, but then again, she was very much occupied with other problems at that point.

The Angel let loose a guttural, mechanical sound and then flew towards the mountain with great speed. She turned and watched it go, raising an eyebrow at this behaviour.

“Interesting… I don’t suppose you know anything about this, little one?”

The squirrel shook their head. They stood up on their hind legs and placed one paw under their chin, appearing to be pondering over something.

Bayonetta found the pose to be rather cute.

They shrugged and shook their head after a few more seconds. The squirrel pointed towards the next plaza and to her with its other paw.

“To the plaza? Well, it is a little closer to the mountain than back there,” she gestured to the destroyed street behind them with a thumb. “But if the Angels have already found themselves here, then that makes everything complicated.”

The squirrel tilted their head.

“Well, little one, the deal with Angels is that they want to resurrect their Goddess.” Bayonetta began to walk as she talked, keeping her attention on the remnants of the street ahead of them. “And the person I’m trying to meet up with has that Goddess in their back pocket. If I were a betting woman, I would wager that they are trying to find her first.”

They waved their hands in a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“The ultimate goal of this Goddess is to remake the universe whenever she is awakened. As far as I know, no one truly knows what this actually entails aside from killing every single person in the universe. That is something that is very, very bad.”

The squirrel swallowed and seemed to hunker closer to her neck. The cloth of the yellow cape was velvety in its smoothness and the sensation against her skin was very pleasant. Perhaps she should invest in more of that kind of clothing once this mess was all cleaned up.

‘Stop getting distracted.’

You’re just jealous you don’t have a magic squirrel with a velvet cape.

Butterfly indignantly spluttered, her words completely failing to convey the Demons thoughts. Bayonetta chuckled and stepped into the plaza, shielding her eyes from the glare of the surrounding fountain. Once they had gotten used to the brightness, she lowed her arm and instantly was drawn to the strange structure in front of the church.

A metal wall curved into a ring-shaped… thing stood there. Cyan and azure magic sprawled through the brown-grey iron, lighting it in scriptures from a language she couldn’t decipher. The surface seemed to ripple, giving her the impression that a forcefield was surrounding the object.

“Just what is this?” She took another step forward, but a flash of brown and orange halted her. The squirrel had jumped off her shoulder and landed in front of her, gliding on wing-like membranes that stretched from paw to foot. It turned around and began waving their paws, pointing at her and the object. “Now what?”

They let out a huff and then ran at the structure. Bayonetta attempted to follow, but her earlier assumption was correct; there was a forcefield surrounding the object and it was designed at the very least to keep her out. The squirrel turned back and tilted their head in confusion.

“I can’t get in, little one. Why can’t you just use your magic and take down the barrier? Considering you are in there and I’m out here, it’s obviously part of your power.”

A paw smacked across their head and the squirrel ran back to the barrier. They placed the other paw under its chin and rose up onto their hind legs. Before they could solve this issue, trouble seemed to follow her with golden light shining down from behind.

Bayonetta merely rolled her eyes and turned around to see more of those Angel centaurs emerging from portals… on… the ground? Didn’t Angels descend from portals?

‘More peculiarities. Be on your guard.’

The reminder was enough to put her into a defensive position. Love is Blue dropped into her hands and she took aim. “Clearly you lot still don’t know when or where to quit.”

“We will never quit in our pursuit of you, coronzon.” The leader centaur, which was covered in red markings as opposed to blue and was slightly bigger than its blue counterparts, snarled back at her. “If you are to oppose us, we will destroy you just as we destroyed your sister!”

If the words were meant to have an infuriating effect, then the Angels had done an exemplary job. Bayonetta saw red, both metaphorically and literally, and charged the Laguna with murderous intent.

‘Calm!’

The fury dissipated to leave a cold rage from Butterfly’s magic. Bayonetta found herself focussing better and launched herself at the leader with a jump. Pushing herself off a close Angel, she fired her guns and watched with satisfaction as the bullets ripped the torso from the body and legs. Twisting around a few golden arrows launched from harp-bows, she replied back with a barrage of wicked stomps that rained down from the sky. Each one crunched an Angel each into the ground, flattening them in a spray of machinery and shards of pottery.

Grabbing onto a striking polearm from a close Angel, Bayonetta gripped onto it with her legs and twisted herself. The Angel flew into the sky with a twirl and then was launched into the rest of the flock with a wicked punch. Landing back on the ground with the polearm tucked under her arm, the Witch let go of her guns and brandished the weapon at the recovering Laguna. “Come on, surely you are the upgrades and not the downgrades?”

Three more portals opened and three of the most disgusting creatures she had seen since Iustitia crawled out of them. They were spherical in shape for the body, with the head represented by a trinity of faces conjoined where the jaw should have been. Several fins flowed behind each head, giving her the impression that it was simply three separate Angels stuck together. Six gold and porcelain tentacles extended out from its rear, wrapping around and flailing in their movement. Golden claws adorned the end of these tentacles, shattering and gripping onto the marble and stone of the plaza with worrying ease.

Did she mention they had tentacles? Bayonetta felt she should mention that again.

‘How about you kill them first?’

Butterfly was one hundred percent right this time. Adjusting her grip on the polearm, the Witch hurled it at the centre Angel. It fell from the sky and it’s started to flail its tentacles around in an effort to free the weapon from its head. There was no time to celebrate or shudder in disgust; the next two were upon her.

Red swords made from pure energy burst from the centre of the clawed hands, swiping down at her with intricate and flowing attacks. Flipping out of the way from the initial onslaught, Bayonetta transformed into a panther and sprinted away. Formulating a plan, she watched as the Angels retracted the swords and began to study her own movements.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have been so taunting in the first place.’

Shut up.

The centre Angel ripped the polearm from its head and tossed it to the side, pulling itself back up with its tentacles. It shrieked a war cry, somehow vitalising its allies with a golden aura.

‘Maybe you shouldn’t have even bothered opening your mouth.’

Are you going to help out or be sassy?

Butterfly snorted. ‘Both. Remember your other and new contracts.’

Stopping and transforming back, Bayonetta began to call upon the power of Mictlantecuhtli. The Demon answered and her body split into two once more. Flapping her new wings to keep her torse afloat, a savage grin form upon her face and she motioned to the trio of Angels. “Come a little closer, will you?”

The Angels shrieked in response; a cry that was interrupted by her legs not following instructions and dropkicking the closest Laguna. Rolling her eyes at her appendages, the Witch glided forward towards the closest Angel to her and darted underneath its red swords as they swung wildly; the space lost by her legs left more than enough for her to fit into the narrowest of spaces. Balling her clawed fists, she burst upwards with a double uppercut that launched the Angel upwards. Grabbing the body with piercing claws, Bayonetta hurled the stunned Angel at the ground. It bounced back up and she caught it, tossing it back down. Keeping it bouncing like a basketball, she turned her attention back to her legs and watched with bemusement as they stepped over both dead Angels with arrogant cockiness.

“Really? You’re finished? Where’s the fun in that?”

They traced a circle on the ground, then gestured to her and traced a wide arc in the circle. Another arc was then traced, much smaller and slimmer than the first, and they gestured to themselves.

“You were faster? Please, I’m having fun! That’s a victory to me.” Bayonetta then glanced at the broken machinery that bounced into her hands and shrugged. “Well, I thought it would last a little longer. I guess we both need someone who will go the distance.”

They nodded (how the fuck did a pair of legs nod? Bayonetta supposed that they weren’t exactly normal legs) and she tossed the remains of the Angel at them. The legs jumped up, twirled and kicked the poor body at the wall. It exploded upon impact and sent pieces of metal flying in a small explosion of parts. Folding her arms, Bayonetta shrugged and gestured to her legs. “Alright, let’s get back together and go talk to our magic squirrel.”

Her legs nodded(?) again and they sprinted back over. Lowering her body back onto them, Bayonetta released the magic and her normal form returned. Shaking out a few kinks and stretching her legs slightly, she turned to see the squirrel staring at her with wide, impressed eyes. Spreading her arms out, she lowered herself in a slight bow.

“Wasn’t that an impressive show?” Bayonetta looked back up to see them nodding their head fast. They pointed to her, then clapped their paws together and spread them out wide. A blue laser burst from the pyramid around their neck and impacted upon the forcefield. It shuddered, held firm, but then collapsed with shards of it falling to the ground. The remaining sections melted into itself and disappeared. Waving her hand and finding no resistance, the Witch smirked and stepped beside the squirrel. “Thank you, little one.”

The squirrel puffed their chest out with obvious pride, patting it with one paw. She chuckled and offered a hand to the animal. They gladly climbed onto her, scurried up her arm and returned to their position on her shoulder. Placing her hands on her hips, she walked over to the curious object and began to peer at it with a closer perspective.

It wasn’t that much different to her previous observations. Bayonetta pressed a hand against the metal and noted that, unlike the surrounding areas, it was cold to the touch. Freezing, even.

“Any ideas, little one? Is this the portal to Inferno?” She put on a mock expression of disappointment. “It’s very underwhelming.”

The squirrel shook their head. They pointed at the church ahead of them instead, seemingly ignoring the strange structure. Bayonetta shrugged internally; if her guide wasn’t interested in the object, then neither was she.

Walking around to the entrance, she pushed opened the double doors and stepped into the atrium of the building. Curling her lip at the holy presence inside, she warily continued forward.

Her cautiousness paid off almost instantly. The roof exploded and she watched a giant Angel fall through. It landed onto the floor with a loud slam and again she recognised the appearance. This time, however…

“Wait, you’re Dante’s Angel!” Bayonetta exclaimed, pointing at it. “You were conspiring with the blue gu-“

“You will not deface the Prophet with your sullied words, Umbra Witch.” The face on the sword levelled an intense stare upon her when the massive Angel stood up. It barely fit inside the building, both in height and width. Either it was an idiot, or it did not care about the restrictive space encasing it. “Where is the Sovereign One!?”

“Sovereign One? I’ve never heard of this Sovereign One.” She turned to see the squirrel both very tense and very alert. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked the creature one question; “Don’t tell me you know about this business.”

They turned to her and shook their head, but in a manner that gave her the feeling they were both convincing her and themselves.

“I can sense the power of the Remembrance of Time.” It peered at her with undisguised hatred. “Where are you hiding the boy?”

“If you are looking for the boy, he went that a way.” She pointed in a random direction behind her, keeping an eye on the squirrel on her shoulder. “But why the interest in little boys? I thought your kind had outgrown chasing children.”

“The Sovereign One, the Arch Eve and the Left Eye of Darkness are all required for the Prophetic Ones plan. You are required at Fimbulventr, along with your wayward companion.” Both hands gripped onto the sword and brought it up in front of the Angel, holding it where the head should have been. “A lowly Valor such as myself will be the one to deliver his prize to him!”

“I’m not a prize to be won, my dear Valor.” Her mind was working at one hundred miles an hour with that proclamation. The implications of what was happening was enough, but it definitely proved one major theory; this was definitely a trap. “You have to earn me.”

Reaching up, she grabbed the squirrel and shoved it down her cleavage, unweaving and reforming the battle suit around it. If the Angels were looking for the animal, then the best action to take would be to keep him close to her but not in the open. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to design her suit with pockets and sending a live being into her pocket realm of Inferno would be one of the stupidest ideas to ever be conjectured. So down the blouse he went, regardless of the objective squeaking that erupted from the magic animal.

“What was that?”

Bayonetta wink at the Angel and blew a kiss at it. “How about you use your big sword and find out?”

Valor roared and drew the sword back. It cut through the walls of the church without too much trouble, but that was not the problem it was about to encounter. The Witch jumped up and began to run on the walls, her heels trailing magical energy from witch walk. Not bothering with Love is Blue, Bayonetta somersaulted over a swipe and gave the shoulders of the Angel a kick. It stumbled back and she kept up the pressure by sending a falling heel stomp to spike the Laguna down.

It worked and the legs of the Angel crumbled. Red energy flowed from the Eye and clung to her fist while she drew it back. Bayonetta landed on the ground and then lunged forward with a straight punch. She connected with the sword and sent the blade away from the torso. Seizing the opportunity with both hands, the Witch twirled and struck a pose.

“PDEE BARMA.”

Her hair few from her body and she felt the nestled squirrel fall from her chest. The weave disappeared into a portal and another erupted from behind the Angel. Madama Butterfly’s fist caught the flying sword and the full might of the Demon rose out of the entrance to Inferno. Drawing the sword back, the Infernal reversed her grip on the blade and slammed it through the shoulders and through the entire body of the Laguna. Dragging the sword through the left side of the Angel, Butterfly turned a full rotation and returned the sword to a normal grip. The momentum was enough was her to slice straight through the rest of the body and it fell into three chunks; one half and two quarters.

“How dare you!? We are the mighty Valor! We will not be defeated so easy!” The sword screamed and both Butterfly and Bayonetta peered at it curiously. “We will destroy both of you for this desecration of honour!”

“What? Mr Valor, you’ve lost your arms and your legs. I don’t think you understand you are in a position where you can’t make threats like that.” Bayonetta folded her arms while more portals opened up to grab the three parts of the body and dragged them into Inferno. “Annnnnd now they are gone completely. Butterfly!”

The Infernal tilted her head in acknowledgement.

“Can you toss this into space?” She nodded at the sword.

Buterfly answered with a toothy grin and hurled the blade up. They all watched the spinning object became smaller and smaller and-

It was gone.

“Thank you. If it comes back you can try for the moon.”

“You think I cannot hit the moon?” Butterfly sounded offended. “Ye who is of little faith…”

Bayonetta dismissed the Infernal with a wave and glanced down to see the squirrel staring up at her with an annoyed expression. His paws were folded and one foot was tapping with annoyance.

“So, little Sovereign One, do you know anything about this Sovereign One business?” She asked and held up a hand. “Before you start shaking that head, you recognised it. Now start talking.”

He shook his head and gestured to himself, her chest and then let out an angry squeak. Bayonetta flinched backwards and frowned. “You’re still hung up on that? That was for your own good!”

Again, he shook his head and gave out an angrier and louder squeak. The squirrel ran back and forth, then in a circle and stared up at her.

“What?”

The squirrel huffed and seemingly rolled his eyes. Bayonetta raised an eyebrow and crouched down to peer at him a little closer. “Look, I’m sorry. But where else do you go in a situation where,” she gestured to the ruined building. “This happens?”

He considered her words and nodded with a shrug. The Witch smiled and held an arm out. “Truce?”

A paw rested on her index finger and the two shook hands. Her curiosity got the better of her and she broke the shake to lightly grab it. The squirrel tilted their head, but then he too looked down to watch as she gripped both halves of the pyramid and twisted.

A blue light erupted from the necklace and engulfed the pair of them. When it receded, there was no longer a squirrel.

A young boy sat on the ground, dressed in baggy orange pants and a yellow, sleeveless jacket. Tanned skin was juxtaposed against brilliant white hair, far purer than Dante’s or Nero’s, which was braided in corn rows that slicked back behind his neck. Teal and white sneakers encased his feet, whereas the necklace was joined by two golden square bangles that rested upon his wrists.

But the most curious aspect about him was the symbol of a blue hourglass situated upon the centre of his forehead.

“Next time love,” the boy spoke with an English accent, raising one hand to rest upon his temple. “Give a man some warning before you decide to change his entire being from a tiny squirrel into a human.”

His eyes opened to reveal ice-blue iris’s piercing through her. “But thank you very much.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: In Charm and Allure

…

Bayonetta just stared at the boy, her mouth slightly agape. “Love?”

He jumped to his feet and folded his arms, beginning to pace back and forth. They unfolded and now rested on his hips as he turned around, alternating between both positions. “I mean, I don’t know your name. And I think you would be very offended if I called you Ma’am.”

Her nostrils flared out from a sharp exhale. She watched him through narrow eyes, staying still for the moment. “I’m far too young to be considered a ‘ma’am’ little one. But Love? Now you are really pushing it.”

“Exactly. But it’s a bit hypocritical to call me a nickname when you don’t even know mine.” The boy placed a hand onto his chest. “My name is…”

His mouth curled into a frown and the hand scratched at his temple. Bayonetta raised an eyebrow, folded her arms and began to wait.

“Uhh… I’ll get back to you on that. Well, if you don’t want me to call you ‘love’, what do you want me to call you?” He lazily pointed a finger at her. “But I do think it would be polite to call you ma’am. Just saying.”

“Do I look like a ma’am to you?” She began to circle slowly around the boy, an unamused expression forming upon her face. “Cereza or Bayonetta; take your pick, for I don’t really care.”

“Cereza?” The boy broke into a burst of laughter. “The Spanish word for cherry? Sorry love, but you don’t look like a Cereza.”

“There was another name to use, little one.”

The boy rolled his eyes and turned with her movements. “Alright, Bayonetta, just who are you? For starters, you are the only being I’ve seen that can see me and that makes me wonder if you are some kind of threat that I have to be worried about.”

He saw her frown and held up a hand instantly. “But I think our brief adventure as squirrel boy and human girl was more than enough evidence to prove the contrary. So… Yeah. See previous question.”

She smirked. The boy’s attitude was a bit too audacious for her liking, but he was kind of reminding her of herself. At this moment the best way to annoy her would be to start using metaphors; so she was going to try that. “I guess all I am is just a poor innocent girl, lost in this wonderland with no guide out.”

His flat stare was enough for Bayonetta to erupt in a small giggle. “Little one, the first rule you learn about me is that I don’t kiss and tell. And since you are underage, I definitely can’t do either.”

“I am not underage! I was born with the beginning of the cos-“ The words died abruptly as both shared shocked glances with each other. The boys’ hands shot up and covered his mouth. “I was… born… when? How did I remember that?”

“Little one,” Bayonetta stopped her circling and stepped towards him with one arm lightly outstretched. “What do you mean by that?”

The hands shifted to his temples and began to squeeze. His knees buckled slightly and a pained whimper escaped his mouth. 

“Little one!”

Blue magic erupted from his eyes and the entire world went-

…

“Welcome, my brothers. Today we begin our seventh commune; the Lands Between has a new Primordius and we will welcome them to Ginnungagap as is tradition.”

“Thank you, Akatosh. Our name is Placidusax-”

“-and our title is the Harbinger of Order.”

“Hmph. A new sibling is not a subject I wanted to bother entertaining in this meeting.”

“Shouldn’t we discuss-“

“Our wayward brother is none of our concern. I find that addressing the state of The Lands Between is a better topic for discussion.”

“Argosax, our presence was never needed-“

“-but we feel it is necessary for our continued survival.”

“Hmph. The less God-killers that exist the better.”

“But Philemon, what if we need them? One day, one of us could fall to madness-“

“None of us will ever fall to madness. We were created with the intent of cultivating a multiverse, with our own tasks and goals to achieve this. What have you ever done to determine that is a possibility? The creations that sprang forth from us are our perfect lambkin, our perfect followers and servants. If we ever need to utilise what Shabriri and the ilk created in his rule, then woe has befallen us all. And that will never happen.”

“But what if one of us does?”

“It will never happen. Stop bringing it up, A-”

“Hear me out, please! Our rule is only because our subjects do not think, do not decide. We control our worlds with absolution; what if one of us desired more? The Lands Between has been in disarray almost constantly, with a new being taking upon the Status seemingly every other cycle. It would not take much effort for one of us to simply seize the world for ourselves. We can’t just let us decide, because who is the one to stop us? Our progenitors are long gone. We have to rely upon ourselves and that takes a level of trust between us all.”

“Are you suggesting you desire more power? More control?”

“I’m not! I’m just pointing out a flaw in not supporting the Harbinger of Order.”

“The naïve fool has a point; the Primordius of the Lands Between has been in flux for centuries now. And now it’s a half-dead dragon. At least Akatosh is a firstborn and not some pretend heir!”

“Leave me out of this, Argosax, and leave it be. Placidusax is the strongest being left to be bestowed upon the eminence of Primordius, as chosen by the currently absent Time Keeper. Do not question our-“

“That runt was designed and created with one and one only purpose in mind. They should not be selecting our brethren.”

“Who would select our replacement-”

“-should we come to fall?”

“Well! I do not know, and I do not care. So, you think we need some trust between us all, A-”

…

The blue receded, leaving Bayonetta breathless and in a state of shock.

Butterfly?

Her patron did not answer.

What did I just see?

‘That… what was that!?’

They mentioned Primordius! Is that- It has to be!

‘Yes, but that does not explain this boy’s involvement. And where was Rodin?’

Do you think I know? Let’s try and find some answers.

And the boy was backing up now. The hands gripping his head were now almost bone white in their tone; Bayonetta took a tentative step forward and returned her hand to her previous position. 

“Little one?”

“Stay away!” He stumbled back towards the back of the ruined church. “I can’t control the Remembrance!”

Her eyebrow raised, but she heeded his words and stayed exactly where she was. “What exactly is the Remembrance?”

“Like I know shit! Just get away from me before I hurt you!” The boy turned and bolted before she even had a chance to dissuade him of the notion.

“Hey! Little one!” Bayonetta’s hand dropped and she sprinted after him. Sending a weave through the crumbling remains, she vaulted over the exploded bricks and stones and landed in front of the fleeing boy. Turning around slowly, like a predator toying with their prey, she eyed the boy with annoyance. “I’m not done talking with you yet.”

He stood there, eyes wide like a child caught in the candy jar. Bayonetta internally smirked; it was the same thing she did whenever Luka found her with the last lollipop.

“Now, I’m gathering that you have some form of amnesia?” She asked. 

The boy nodded, his eyes not meeting her own. “I don’t remember anything. I just woke up in the form of this squirrel about a week ago and then was kinda stuck in a place where there’s ghost-people and-”

“Purgatorio.” She elaborated further when his face screwed up in confusion. “You’ve been stuck in Purgatorio.”

“Pur-gah-tore-ee-oh?” He phonetized and shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t. Very few humans are aware of the existence of Purgatorio; all of them are aware of the arcane and I can count on one hand how many can actually get in. You, however, I’ve never heard of or seen before in my life.” Bayonetta tilted her head. “A child who can transform into a squirrel, who is also stuck in Purgatorio, and has no memories? You are an enigma, to be certain.”

And my memories, as fractured as they are, still tell me that you do not exist.

The boy gave her a cocky, albeit very shaky, grin. “Well, love, I guess I am very much one of a kind.”

An annoyed sigh slipped out from her and she turned her gaze into something akin to baleful scorn. “What have I told you about that name, little one? And that is my catchphrase; go and find your own.”

“If you stopped calling me little one then maybe I will.” He folded his arms and stared at her with a cunning smile. “But let me turn the question on you, because you seem to be here for a purpose.”

“You seem to have skipped school the day they taught basic negotiation skills.” Bayonetta matched his demeanor and folded her arms as well. “You are supposed to negotiate from a position of strength, little one.”

“Well, I do have that. I think. You’re going to Fimbulventr, correct?”

She nodded. The boy pointed a thumb at his chest and continued with that infuriating smile. “In my week here, I explored every nook and cranny of this place. I know everything, love, about Noatun. I can get you to Fimbulventr, no problem. I know the way and I know exactly where to go.”

“It’s certainly convenient that you, of all people know exactly how to get to where I need to go.” The Witch raised an eyebrow, her own uncertainty beginning to bubble over. “Are you going to Fimbulventr too?”

“Y- No!” He lamely denied with a comical shake of the head. “I’m not going to Fimbulventr! I just… merely know the way, that’s all!”

She tilted her head and regarded him with curiosity. “Have you been keeping secrets from Mummy?”

“Look love, I have nothing! I don’t know who I am, I don’t know what this place really is aside from a big fucking rock in the middle of an island and I don’t know why I’m constantly drawn to said big fucking rock!” The boy cried out in frustration. “All I know is that I am and you are very capable to help me actually get there! If you haven’t noticed, there’s Laguna everywhere and I couldn’t exactly fight them as a squirrel! I probably still can’t but that’s beside the point!”

Bayonetta waited for the boy to finish his rant before she exhaled in annoyance. “All of this raving is not exactly my type of conversation. If I’m being honest, little one, I do not have the time nor patience to give a shit about who you are or why you need to go to the mountain. But I do need a guide. As I said before, I am an innocent girl, lost in this wonderland; I do not know where to go, or what I am looking for. You know, you can be that guide.”

The boy stood there and pondered her words with a hand on his chin. He began to walk in a small circle, humming and erring to himself with childlike sounds. Her own emotions began to calm down as she watched him move. It wasn’t fair on the boy to take out her frustrations upon him, considering she was in the same boat a mere six months ago. Amnesia was certainly no joking matter in her books and it was very much hypocritical for her to judge others of the same.

“If it's of any merit to you, I’m not against a passenger on the trip up. Besides, with your connection to this ‘Remembrance’ it seems that you would be a lot more useful than the other child I had to protect.”

“But I’m not a child!” He pouted, but nodded his head. “How about a deal, love?”

She too made a face. “If it starts and ends with not calling me that nickname, I’m all for it.”

The boy chuckled. “Sorry love, but you really don’t look like a Cereza. But the deal is simple; I guide you to the mountain, you get me there in one piece. It’s very decent and fair to me.”

“You don’t need to sell me on a deal I already came to the conclusion of.” Bayonetta frowned, but softly smiled after a few seconds. “But we do have a deal, little one.”

She held out her hand to the boy and he accepted it instantly. They shook once firmly, then let go and stared up at the mountain.

“First things first, love, the main issue with getting to Fimbulventr is that you need to repair the ‘bridge to the heavens’ before you can even start climbing to it. Unless you’ve got a crane hidden away in that cleavage of yours, we can’t really rebuild any bridge.” He pointed to the structure above them. “To get to the bridge, we have to go through a few buildings and specifically through the ‘Cathedral of Cascades’.”

“Whoever named this town is an ostentatious person.” She commented and the boy nodded.

“I know, right?” He nodded with an exasperated grin. “Big and fancy names for what amounts to a pile of stone. But anyway, the cathedral leads directly to the bridge; the problem is that there’s a non-zero amount of Laguna in the way. That is where you would come in.”

Bayonetta folded her arms and regarded him with a tilt of her head. Damien had taught her, a few days after he returned from the ‘Lands Between’, an insignificant amount of telepathy. It wasn’t enough to be able to draw coherent thoughts from the person, let alone cultivate new ones, but it was so she could determine whether the words spoken matched those in the mind. The mind could not lie.

The problem was that she had no real connection to the Soul Arts and her magic potential, as vast as it was, was not suitable for that branch of the elementals. Her Eye, however, could give her the power boost and knowledge required. So, she reached up and tapped her left temple with one hand and let the Eye guide her wandering mind. The boys offered no resistance and she slipped right in.

To her surprise, he was being one hundred percent honest with everything he had and continued to say.

“Well, little one, let’s not wait. If you are to show me the way, then you need to take the lead. I’m not going to protect you until we do see some Angels.” She gestured to him and he bowed in response.

“Alright love, let me lead the way.” He walked past her and back towards the ruined church they had just moved out of. He stopped when he arrived at her and sent an expression of displeasure straight at her. “If you would please stop with the ‘little one’s’ I would appreciate it, love.”

“Only if you stop with the 'loves', little one.”

…

The pair's first roadblock was floating above the plaza, practically encircling it with its serpentine body. Bayonetta merely stopped the boy with a wave of her hand and continued forward. “Well, this makes number three in our appearances with each other and yet we still haven’t met. Just who are you, my secret admirer?”

The snakelike dragon Angel turned to her, its entire body following with a whiplike crack through the air. “You are here, Arch Eve. The Prophet has been expecting you.”

“Could you make it less obvious that this is a trap?” She lamented, summoning and twirling one of her guns on her left hand. “I’m starting to miss the naïve innocence of simply walking into a new location and not expecting all of Paradiso to be on my doorstep.”

“Where is the Sovereign One?” It asked, completely ignoring her. 

“Hey! I asked a question; I do expect an answer!” She took aim and pulled the-

“Our lord expects both of you to be present. One will not suffice.” The Angel looked up and shot away towards the mountain once more. Bayonetta merely stared at the retreating form, both disappointed and confused.

“I guess you don’t have an explanation for that either?” The boy had walked out and was now staring at the Angel with her.

“Trust me, little one, I’d rather fight that admirer than let them run around unaccounted for.” She glanced down to see him fully occupied with the Angel. “But it seems they are interested in both of us.”

“All the better reason to stick together then; I’m a sitting duck without you.” 

“Indeed. Now that interruption is gone, let us continue on!” She patted him on the back, then pushed him forward. “Shall we?”

“Hey! Don’t push me.” He recovered from the shove with a twist, turning to face her. “Now, if memory serves me right, we need to cross one of these canals. The cathedral is on the other side of the city.”

The boy was right. The bridge connected to a giant building that vaulted over the rest of the city with arches and spires. A central tower rose up from it and seemingly led straight to the overpass. 

But it was on the other side of the city. 

“Call it a feeling, love, but I feel this way is the right direction.” Her thoughts were interrupted by the boy pointing to a street leading to the right of the plaza. 

“In my experience that is known as a woman’s intuition, not a feeling.” She raised an eyebrow and began to walk towards the street. “Come along, I do not have time to waste.”

“Wait! If we are going to do this, we do need to get a little bit creative.” He ran until he was in front of her, and the pair stopped once more. “You don’t just walk into Fimbulventr, love.”

“You are testing my patience in more ways than one.” She took aim at him and the boy froze.

“Woah- wait a second! Just hear me out, will you? I don’t know about you, but I’d wager you are looking for the portal to Inferno,” he raised his hands slowly. “Aren’t you?”

Composing herself to hide her surprise, she instead opted to narrow her eyes. “That’s a very lucky guess, little one. Would you care to explain how an amnesiac like yourself knew that?”

“You’re an Umbra Witch; or at least that is what something in my memories are telling me.” He spoke quickly, sensing her rapidly declining trust. “I mean, you look like one, you have their powers, am I wrong!?”

She adjusted her aim and pulled the trigger successfully this time. The boy screamed when the bullet boomed past his head, collapsing backwards to fall onto the ground.

“What the hell!? Shit, Bayonetta, I’m not lying to you! I swear!” 

A body fell to the ground and he glanced back to see a flock of Angels shrieking, angered by their fallen comrade. The boy transformed into a squirrel and instantly ran to her side to reach out to her. She reached down and the squirrel darted up her arm.

“You see, my little squirrel, I don’t one hundred percent believe you. But I don’t really have much of a choice when it comes to guides and allies in this place.” She whispered to the boy while she grabbed her other gun out of Inferno and took an aggressive stance. “But let it be known that if you decide to play traitor, I will not be so merciful.”

The closest centaur- she really needed to think up a name for these- was the first to feel her frustration. A heel stomp from above flattened it into the floor, then a follow-up heel slide kick launched it into its compatriots. More bullets burst through the Angels and ripped apart those that weren’t stunned by her initial projectile.

“PDEE BARMA!” She called out and Butterfly partially manifested above her. The Infernal surged forward with a headbutt and annihilated the rest of the Angels with one strike. 

Teamwork makes the dream work, doesn’t it?

The Madama snorted, then flowed back into the portal with a swirl of hair and magic. Silence reigned for a brief moment until the squirrel jumped down and retransformed back into his human form.

“So, just how do you know of the Umbra Witches?” She was the first to break it.

“Just like I know to breathe and eat, love. I just do.” He stood up, shrugging. “I know the name, I vaguely know the look and that’s about all I have to present to the jury of one.”

The boy turned and began to walk towards the street once more. “Now, let’s get back on track, shall we?”

Bayonetta rolled her eyes and easily caught up with the boy. 

“Do you want a name or something, little one?” She asked, finally entering the street. It was a straight pathway with several intersecting passages that presumably led off into the rest of the city. There were no ghostly humans present; she assumed that the destruction of that other street and the church had pulled them from the outdoors and into a safe place.

Good. She really couldn’t afford to play hero for an entire city when potentially the universe was at stake again. 

“Well, if it would stop you from referring to my stature then I would be all for it, love.”

“I have a name; use it, please.” Bayonetta grumbled, glancing at a nearby candy store with a sly-

‘Focus. May Sheba curse Redgrave forever for getting you addicted to sugar.’

If you had some, your tune would change.

Her patron went silent for a few seconds, then a growl echoed through her mind. ‘Do not tempt me.’

“But I have no idea what I would call you. You don’t fit any name I would normally give, given your… uniqueness.” She continued, forcibly removing her gaze from the store. Even though she did want to go inside and buy a few dozen boxes of lollipops, Jeanne was very much the priority right now. “And besides, the last time I tried to name someone he named himself. So I don’t exactly have a stellar track record.”

“Hmmm…” The boy hummed to himself, letting his fingers trail along the wall. “I haven’t exactly put thought into a name, cause I was too busy trying to figure out everything else.”

He turned left and walked onto another street. He stopped in front of a locked gate and gave it an ineffectual kick. “Nothing really is coming to mind, love. But back to a previous statement; you are looking for the Gates, correct?”

“I have a party I need to attend and I have no intentions of being late.” Bayonetta curtly answered. “A friend of mine is there and I need to make sure she can join in on the festivities.”

She subconsciously pulled out her sister’s watch and gazed upon it with a worried eye. The glowing lights that surrounded the clock face had disappeared until there was only one quarter left alight; the space between the nine and twelve markings. Her eyes widened at the sight.

What!? This was halfway a mere few hours ago!

‘Someone is interfering. Where is that blasted Madama when you need her?’

“What’s that you are looking at?” He glanced back with an inquisitive expression. Bayonetta straightened and quickly slipped the watch onto one of her sleeves.

“Right.” She sent a wicked punch into the door, opening it. “Let’s go.”

…

Calling the canal a ‘canal’ was an understatement; the distance between the two sides of the river had to be nearly one hundred metres, if not more. 

“Well, little one, care to explain?” She gestured at it from the bank, steeling her gaze at him. 

“What’s there to explain? I just swam across. It wasn’t so bad.” The boy began to perform a few stretches and gave her a quizzical look in response. “You don’t like water, love?”

“I was aware that we had to cross a canal; this is more of a lake than a canal.” Bayonetta folded her arms and hardened her gaze. The boy, to his credit, did not shrink back.

“Love, how was I supposed to know you were hydrophobic?” He lowered his arms and walked forward, leaning over the rail and smelling the air. “Ahh… The human nose isn’t as sensitive as a squirrel’s, but damn that’s a good scent.”

“I’m not swimming across the lake.”

“It’s a canal, love. And it’s not that ba-“ A choked scream filled the air and she watched him crumble to the ground in horror. More blue clouds were leaking from him, surrounding and-

…

“Brother.”

“Ah, it seems you were smart enough to heed my summons and alone. Just as I requested.”

“What do you want, Argosax? It’s unlike any of us to go behind our siblings-” 

“Do not call them our siblings. We are firstborn Primordius; they are nothing but fakes. A mockery of what we stand for. What we are!”

“Argosax!”

“What we are is the supreme beings of the universe; they are imposters who were given what we fought for!”

“We were given these powers by the F-” 

“Irrelevant. They did not earn this status, this power.”

“Is this why you summoned me?”

“Have you not seen the state of the other worlds? Placidusax is worthless as a Primordius due to them literally never interfering! All Philemon has done is cause problems for his own world because he cannot cope with the fact that his world doesn’t truly belong to him. Akatosh sits around and does nothing, just like that imbecilic half-dead dragon! Jubileus has been asleep for centuries and will only awake at the end times, which looks like they will be sooner rather than later!”

“Brother-” 

“The worlds are in turmoil, my friend. You’ve seen what became of Drakenguard; everyone in that universe perished because their ‘God’ did nothing. There is no longer a Primordius for that world and now it will slowly die a poisoned death. The Lands Between is constantly in turmoil and I have yet to see a Primordius exist for longer than a decade. Our youngest siblings have their tasks and they never seem to be completing them-” 

“The Time Keeper and Destroyer’s tasks require them to never be seen or heard. If they aren’t doing anything, then they are doing their task correctly.”

“If that is what you believe. If they had done their job correctly, we wouldn’t be in this situation! And that is not even including the fact Singularity has not been heard from in centuries. If our supposed protectors do not want to do their job, then we will have to do it for them.”

“Argosax… You cannot be suggesting what I think you are.”

“We need to take their worlds by force. Those who were passed the power are too weak to hold it, and the others do nothing. Without our guidance their worlds will implode. The mortals do nothing; only we can do it. We can save everything!”

“What you are suggesting is against everything we were taught.”

“Our creators were wrong to assume we could be trusted with our own creations. Only me and you can be; our realms are flourishing under our rule. You’ve brought order to Chaos and my Inferno is all but ready to supersede the Lands Between as the strongest. Only we can stop this degradation of reality.”

“I won’t give heed to these words any longer. If these traitorous designs are to be put into motion, I will warn our siblings and oppose you.”

“You will not. You know in your heart that this is the correct path onwards for the Primordius!”

“This is the path to madness, Argosax. I shall hear you out no more.”

“Listen to me, A-”

…

The mist faded once more to reveal clouded glasses and nothing beyond that. Bayonetta quickly gave the surroundings a glance and, once she was satisfied with knowing that absolutely nothing was watching her, wiped her spectacles clear and found the boy lying in a tight ball. His hands were pressed with tremendous force against his temples; once she got to his side even her strength wasn’t enough to pry them away.

“Little one!” She cried out. Only a pained whimper answered her and then the ground began to tremble.

Bayonetta gathered the boy into her arms and began to look around with fear and suspicion. “Not fucking now…”

The sight of the canal caught her attention. It was receding towards the ocean and she followed the pathway out of reflex. Her eyes widened; it wasn’t an Angel.

A tidal wave was approaching. Bayonetta merely rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth.

“Fuck me…”

She briefly considered her options. There was no way she could outrun it without manipulating time and her magic definitely wasn’t suited to stopping an entire tidal wave from destroying an entire city. Resigning herself with a sick feeling in her stomach, she turned and prepared to run.

“Hey! Put me down!”

The boy squirmed out from her grip and proceeded to run towards the tidal wave.

Bayonetta turned and ran after him with panicked haste. “What are you doing!?”

The boy stopped a few meters from the edge and spread his arms out in an upside-down V. Five cards, inlaid with gold and cerulean patterns, appeared in his hands. He crossed his limbs in front of his chest and then tossed the cards out. 

They disappeared into flashes of blue light that faded into white. Five seconds passed with the tidal wave coming closer and closer and closer-

The world shifted blue. The tidal wave began to dissipate and flow back into the canal with little fanfare. Bayonetta’s eyes widened at the power on display; her senses identified it as time magic, but it was nothing she had ever seen before.

Not even Damien could perform anything like this, even with Khepri’s aid.

Within a few more seconds the water had returned to normal. The boy waved his arms and the blue hue faded and the world continued on. He turned around with a giant grin on his face and his hands on his hips. 

“How’s that, love?”

“What the hell was that?” She snapped, not bothering with hiding her emotions or any pretences.

“As I said before, I can control the Remembrance of Time. That’s a pretty big deal around here.” He walked up to her, still with that infuriating grin on his face. 

“It is? What is this Remembrance now, then?” She rested her hands on her hips and leaned forward with a glare. “Or have you still forgotten it conveniently?”

“Well, I never actually got a chance to tell you; the Remembrance of Time is the power of Aesir, the God that used to live here. Dunno where he buggered off to.” The boy folded his arms. “It seems that I inherited his power.”

“It seems?” The disbelief in her tone could not be hidden.

“I mean…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “No! I have nothing else to say, love.”

The boy then turned and began to walk back towards the edge of the canal/river. “Come on, we need to cross this if we want to get to the Gates of Hell. Unless you’ve changed your mind and you want to go to Paradiso; we’ve already passed the gate for that.”

“I have no interest in heaven.” Bayonetta sighed and resigned herself to a fate worse than death. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I hope we don’t ever need to go there then.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and arrived at his side with four long strides. “What do you mean by that?”

“Let me put it this way, love.” The boy gestured to Fimbulventr. “Once we get to the mountain, it will decide to keep you around, then you’ll get your choice of going up or going down. And what I mean by that is either you stay there permanently or you’ll never reach it at all.”

“And which way will you be going?” She offhandedly asked and she felt a disturbance ripple through the air. The boy seemed to sense it as well and fell backwards again. This time, the fear in the air was very palpable.

“Little one!” She reached out, and he slapped her hand away from him, pulling out cards from nothing and throwing them at her. Bayonetta swayed to the sides to dodge them and turned to see them impact into a charging Angel.

They, to her surprise, did not do any damage. The serpentine Laguna barrelled through the buildings and swooped down at the pair, swiping with its mighty claws. Bayonetta rolled to the side, but the boy was not as fortunate. She returned her gaze to see the Angel holding him and circling back into the sky.

“Bothersome child of light and dark. The Prophet tires of your insolence and reluctance to continue your ascent of the mountain.” The draconic head spoke, and for some reason Bayonetta felt that something was off about it. She couldn’t tell you what, though. “Now, my brethren have failed where we will not. We will use the boy as bait and lure you directly to Fimbulventr.”

“Why are you trying to steal him? You know my goal is to reach the mountain and I’m not going to dally at any point.” She stood up and resummoned Love is Blue . “Yes, I’m going to go at my own pace, but not as slow as you are making it out to be!”

“The Sovereign One’s involvement is far more important than yours. Unlike you, once the Prophet has reclaimed what is his, the scraps can be sent to oblivion for all we care.” It circled around twice more, then slithered off towards the mountain. “Follow me, if you must. It makes no difference.”

“Unfortunately, this little one is my guide, and he’s not done guiding.” Bayonetta let the power of Mictlantecuhtli fill her and she transformed into her flying form. “But where you want to take us? I think it’s an entirely different direction.”

The Angel looked back at her and growled. “Our goals align, Arch Eve. We do not need to fight.”

“And miss out on a new bonus of halos for my contracted? Please, you should know me better than that.” Her legs surged forward, but this time she was on the ball and dragged them back to her. “Unless you don’t know me at all.”

“We know enough, Arch Eve.” The Angel twisted and began to fly in a tight circle, increasing its movement and speed with every passing second. Bayonetta halted in her flight and watched the canal begin to surge upwards with an apprehensive eye. The Angel disappeared into a maelstrom of water and buildings, forming a massive tornado as both a protective shell and-

It was going to ram her with it. So much for needing her alive.

Abandoning her original idea, Bayonetta reverted back and grabbed a nearby floating rock. Placing it under her feet and utilising it as a makeshift surfboard, she braced herself for impact. The maelstrom connected with her and it… wasn’t as bad as she expected. Balancing herself on the ‘surfboard’, she began blasting apart nearby pieces of rubble that got too close for comfort. 

The Angel popped out and bore down on her with a bite. The Witch merely guided her surfboard to the right and gave the Laguna a wicked slap when it passed by.

“You’re making it a bit too easy.” She commented when it resurfaced behind her. “All of this pomp and circumstance and no substance? You’d be a horrible friend.”

“Us Glamor does not utilize your dire pomp and circumstance, Arch Eve.” It snarled. Drawing in a huge breath, it roared and sharpened icicles flung themselves out at her. Sighing to herself at the ease of it all, Bayonetta began to move-

A second Angel appeared from behind, identical to the Glamor she was fighting. It too bore down on her with a bite, and this time she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Changing her strategy, she jumped up from the board and let the projectiles slam into the second Glamor. They shattered against the golden armour, much to her dismay, and didn’t really serve another purpose other than to piss it off.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight and time mentally slowed to a crawl. 

‘What is wrong?’

One burst through the ground and ran away to the mountain. Another circled over us, but was not satisfied with just the one and left towards the mountain as well. The one that stole the boy arrived from the west of the mountain. 

Her patron chuckled in a dry tone. ‘And we have visual confirmation that two of these Angels exist. I suppose the question is whether there are three or not?’

Rule of thirds suggests there is. We’ll find out soon enough.

‘That, we certainly will.’

“We Glamor will take you to the Prophet.” A third one appeared right on schedule, smashing through her makeshift board and glared at her with hateful eyes. “He does not need you alive; he just needs your Eye.”

Retransforming into the masquerade, she began to back up as all three Angels began to glide towards her. “Unfortunately for you, the Eye will die with me. But I do not plan on that happening any time soon!”

“Your corpse can be the first to tell our lord that!” The Glamor holding the boy exited the whirlwind, collapsing the entire storm cell back into the canal. “The Arch Eve will fall to our combined strength!”

She could feel her legs itching to go and fight, but she restrained them with another pat on her bottom.

Patience. We need to figure out how we fight three Angels of this size.

‘Remember, you need to save the boy as well.’ Butterfly reminded her, and Bayonetta’s eyes were drawn to the Angel on her left. The boy was still tightly gripped in the massive claw and she could also see dozens and dozens of cards sticking out of the arm like pins in a cushion. 

He definitely wasn’t being taken without a fight. And neither was she.

The one on the right arrived first, swiping with both claws downwards. Her legs kicked off to the side and slipped between the razor-sharp fingers while her torso flipped and plummeted down. The claws missed her by a few feet, but she could still feel the force contained within the attack from the wind it generated. It was enough to briefly toss her around in the sky, but she recovered with a few flaps of her wings.

‘You need help/Why not use us?’

If this Mictlantecuhtli was able to grant her the power of flight, then she assumed that the Demon itself was capable of it too.

‘Yes we are/unleash our fury!’

Watching her legs begin to kick up the stomach of the Angel, she drew a few patterns in the air and then performed a graceful dance with just her arms, as she did not have her lower body to help out.

“VRELP LONSHIN!”

Her legs twirled and unwrapped into strands of hair, then reformed into a portal. A bat-like screech erupted from it, and then Mictlantecuhtli burst from Inferno. The demon was limbless, except for four wings that flapped in unison. Its head was similar to Scolopendra’s, but thousands of miniature eyes were all laser focussed onto the trio of Angels. It opened its mandible-covered mouth and screeched again, then shot forward with a hail of energy projectiles. 

The centre Angel roared in response and whipped its tail down. Her Demon slipped to the side and began barraging its head with projectiles. Her legs appeared beside her, giving her a ‘well?’ gesture with an incline of her hips. 

“He’s very impressive. But we have our own problems to take care of.”

The other two Glamor’s were now rushing back to engage the pair. Bayonetta hardened her gaze and felt two wicked weaves ready themselves at her sides. Her legs returned to kicking up the Angel it was initially engaging, whereas she surged forward with the two fists and slammed them against her chosen one. They deflected the initial bite and pushed the Angel down. Electricity crackled through her fingertips and burst from them in thunderbolts. Each pained scream made her already huge grin wider; this must have been how Damien felt whenever he challenged himself with magic only battles with Angels.

A trait he had inherited from Jeanne, but definitely not the worst one he could have.

The golden armour buckled from the strain of her magic, and then Butterfly’s fists ripped it apart. Whirring machinery and more metal greeted her, turning her smile into a frown; it seemed that even these variants weren’t at all organic. 

Her lapse in concentration proved to be costly; the Glamor fighting her legs had knocked them away and charged her with a headbutt. She went flying and regained a semblance of visibility only to see the third Glamor battling Mictlantecuhtli latch onto it with a twist of its body and begin to crush it. 

The three Glamor slowly turned to her, their expressionless mechanical heads seemingly gleaming with excitement. “And the Witch, detached from her allies, stands alone.”

The middle Angel gestured to the one holding the boy. “Take the Sovereign One to him. We will deal with the Arch Eve.”

“I’m just so annoyed that you all think I will just lay down and die!” Bayonetta yelled out, electricity crackling and forming into a staff in her hands. “You take away my legs and Demon? Well, that just leaves more Angels for me.”

Spinning the staff in her hands, she fired a swarm of navy-blue bats into the closest Angel. It roared in annoyance-

It roared in annoyance?

‘They are machines! Of course Infernal sorcery would have difficulty harming them!’ Butterfly sounded a little panicked. ‘Get rid of that staff and continue with the physical!’

Bayonetta let the weapon fade and swallowed down her rising unease. Her speed was her greatest asset here, but without her Demon, lower body or without disregarding the fact there were three Auditio-sized Angels facing her down? She remembered Damien telling her about how he ran away from two Auditio back at Ithavoll, and then he was only able to defeat them with something Jeanne had called a Sin Summon-

‘You are not performing one of those. Even the modified, weaker version that Khepri taught your brother was enough to send him into a coma for a week.’ Butterfly instantly refuted. ‘Though your magic may be stronger with the Eye aiding it and your blood allowing you to handle it, I will not risk anything on the chance the same does not happen to you!’

The passion took her back by surprise, and the grim smile on her face faded. What do you mean by that?

‘You die here, then so does Jeanne. I very much want to continue living as who I am, not what some madman wants me to be.’

And here I thought you actually cared.

Her Patron giggled and she blinked in response. ‘Well, Khepri did tell me to buy her some time.’

A blue laser beam shot in from the town beneath her and punctured straight through the centre Glamor. Painful roars filled the sky and all of those who could looked down to see what was happening. 

Bayonetta’s eyes widened and her heart almost jumped out of her mouth. Was that-

“DESTROY HIM!”

The forceful command painfully ringed through her skull. Wincing, she shook her head clear and watched as the Glamor on the right flew down to engage the mysterious-assailant-that-was-probably-her-brother and the Glamor in the centre fell limply into the canal. Mictlantecuhtli flew out of its clutches with a piercing cry, but Bayonetta waved her hand and the summon faded. 

This Demon wasn’t going to be useful here. Labolas would be, but she was currently suspended in the air with no real platforms for the cats to utilise. If she could summon him directly onto the remaining Glamor, then she stood a decent chance to destroy it with ease. That plan did run the unfortunate risk of the Demon annihilating the boy.

‘You are correct with that assumption, Mistress. We are suitable for unfettered destruction, not precise chaos.’

Do you have anything to help out here, Butterfly?

‘I believe I have someone. Just let me know when you are ready.’

The blue beam had stopped now and she truly began to wonder if it really was her brother down there. Of all the people she knew, he was the only true sorcerer amongst them; he would be the first to cast something of that magnitude. But at the same time, Damien had never cast anything like that. The last time she had seen him cast spells in general was when she visited that world with him, and at that point in time he was still strictly elementals, not laser beams of death and destruction.

So, chances are it wasn’t Damien, unfortunately. There was no way to check without abandoning her squirrel friend. Her legs then arrived back and seemed to stare at her while waiting for instructions.

“Now you need instructions? Go help whoever’s down there!” Bayonetta pointed to the city beneath them and the Glamor. “Now go!”

Somehow, her legs saluted her and flew downwards. Shaking her head, the Witch brought her attention back to the final Glamor. The Angel stared at her, then lifted itself higher into the sky and promptly began to flee towards the mountain.

“Running away?” Bayonetta gave chase and sent a few weaves to try and catch the tail. Most of them missed and those that were on target merely glanced off. “What is an Angel but not a coward?”

“It is more important to procure the Sovereign One than it is to contain you, Arch Eve.” Glamor answered, slithering through the air with great speed. “He will deal with you.”

“The big, bad Prophet? Let him try to claim the prize you could not!”

The Angel chuckled and flipped over to watch her reaction. “Our allies are plentiful, Arch Eve. Even you could not predict the challenges that lie ahead.”

‘I have something physical for you.’ Butterfly announced and Bayonetta smirked to herself. The expression was wiped instantly as her patron continued. ‘However, you need to get it on or near the ground.’

Bayonetta glanced down to see the bridge beneath her. The first half, mind you, but a stable surface. Do I need to summon it on the ground?

‘You cannot be in a masquerade.’

That was the most inconvenient way for someone to say no. The Witch rolled her eyes and called out to her legs to return. They arrived five seconds later, vibrating and bouncing in excitement. 

“What the- What did you just see down there?” She folded her arms and gave her legs a stern look. The hips shook and Bayonetta raised an eyebrow at them. “You’re not going to tell me?”

‘Is this all really prudent?’

Right. Flying over and reforming back into her human form, Bayonetta instantly began to fall as gravity took hold of her once more. Placing her hands behind her head, she turned to see the Glamor looking down at her curiously.

Perfect.

“SUNDENNA!”

Her hairsuit flew off and formed into a portal, opening up behind the Angel. It realised the duplicity and turned around, ready to engage with the Demon she was summoning.

It fell directly onto the Angel and the pair fell onto the bridge. The Angel’s claws spilled open and Bayonetta caught the boy before he went splat. She used their momentum to slip them under the bridge and they both went flying onto a wall. Adjusting her feet, Bayonetta landed lightly and her witch walk spell manifested on the toes of her heels. Standing up slowly, she kept the boy close while she began to observe her latest contract. He was clutching her tightly in response and very much in terror. 

She couldn’t blame him. 

The Demon that stood triumphantly over the Angel was an eight-legged horse. A long horn, like a unicorn’s, protruded from its head as a gigantic sword. Black flesh was its body, and dark red flames burst out in place of a mane on its head. Four red spikes sat upon its shoulders like armoured pads, finishing the sleek, but deadly appearance. It snorted a grunt, then raised its head up high.

“Shit! It’s going to destroy the bridge!” The boy pointed, then grimaced at her. “We can’t afford more damage to the bridge, love, if we want to use it!”

“What have I told you about calling me that?” She rolled her eyes and returned it with a smile. “Have faith in my contracted. They’ll do very well.”

The Demon horse neighed with a roar, then the world flashed white and its head was now lowered, resting alongside the bridge. The Glamor gurgled, then fell apart in neatly sliced chunks. Each piece of broken machinery fell to the ground and revealed an untouched bridge underneath it.

“See? They did very well.” She gave the Demon a wave. “Thank you for your service!”

“Madama Butterfly said you could be the one to set me free.” The horse whinnied, tossing its fiery mane. “For too long me have been contained within Inferno, unable to run, unable to hunt. Me want that freedom once more.”

The Witch raised an eyebrow. What did you promise him?

‘That you will use him a lot more than the others.’ Butterfly answered. ‘Diomedes are prideful creatures who always desire freedom above all else. You should be able to grant him that.’

“Well, I hope you don’t expect any halos. Those are a little hard to come by.” She spoke to both her patron and the Demon. 

“Did you not hear me? Me do not want halos. Me want me freedom. Grant me this wish, Witch, and me will aid you in your quest to save the Trinities of Realities.” Diomedes pawed at the ground with his left front pair of hooves. “After all, me cannot run if everything is Paradiso.”

“I’m trying to save Jeanne, not the entire universe.” Bayonetta answered with a smile. “But that is a good secondary objective.”

“Call upon me when you feel it is prudent to do so.” The Demon bowed its head respectfully to her, then unweaved back into the portal. The hair suit reweaved back to its proper place and Bayonetta dropped down to the ground. Letting go of the boy, they both let their respective gazes wander around at the three dead Angels.

She placed her hands onto her hips and settled her gaze onto the boy. “Well, it looks like our work here is done.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: The Lumen Sage (Part 1)

…

“Our work here is done? Are you sure about that, love?”

The boy began to pace in a small circle, waving his hands in strange, circular motions. His expression changed constantly from annoyed to visibly frustrated. Bayonetta wasn’t entirely sure what he was on about this time and just opted to fold her arms and watch him with bemusement.

“Well, that Angel friend of yours kept us busy for a while. And it did bring up more questions than answers, Sovereign One.”

The title’s effect was instantaneous. The boy stopped all movement and grabbed onto his head with both hands. A cry of pain escaped his throat and he fell to his knees, still gripping his head.

“Not a fan, little one?” She couldn’t keep the worried tone out of her voice. Bayonetta slowly walked towards him, just waiting for that strange blue mist to appear and transport her back into that dream-like reality. To her surprise, it did not and the only thing that happened was the boy slowly silencing himself as the wave passed.

“Just call me anything but that. Even ‘little one’.” He grunted out, slowly lowering his hands down. “I don’t know why, but it’s painful.”

So that name was one hundred percent off limits. Bayonetta could work with that. She held a hand out and he accepted it, allowing her to pull him up. “Well, little one, I think I have a solution to our naming problem.”

“You do?”

“What do you think of Ardilla Pequeña?” She asked, letting the words roll off her tongue. It wasn’t often she used her mother’s tongue, but she did keep in practice just in case. And besides, Luka’s reactions to her speaking in Spanish were literally the funniest things she had ever seen.

The boy frowned and slowly turned to stare at her. “What does that mean?”

Bayonetta smirked and began to walk towards the bridge. “You should be able to figure it out yourself.”

“Well, I won’t let you call me names unless I know what you are insulting me with.” He piped up. “At least I know what little one means.”

She let out a bark of laughter. “I think you are a little too young to know what that truly means.”

A ‘harumph’ burst from behind and the two walked in companionable silence for a while. The boy was the first to speak up, glancing up at her to do so.

“What I meant, Bayonetta, is that we still have to get to the bridge. You just spent a good chunk of time fighting those Angels and we’re probably further away than we started.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly.

“To be fair, those Angels did want to take us to the mountain.” Her eyes trailed back onto the street, sweeping for anything suspicious. “Something tells me this very elaborate trap is far more elaborate than we are expecting.”

The boy nodded and kicked at a pebble of debris, scattering it into a nearby wall. “That’s the problem, love. We all want to get to the mountain for legitimate reasons, yet there’s someone who wants us specifically to get to the mountain. It makes me not want to go to the mountain just to stick it to them… Yet…”

“I believe the same. If the way to my sleeping beauty wasn’t in the exact same place as where our little friend wants us to be, I would certainly be on the other side of the planet by now.”

His gaze turned a little sceptic. “And who was our helper? It was enough to piss off our mutual friend to the point they finally got involved.”

“DESTROY HIM!”

The voice that roared in the sky when one of the Glamor died echoed through her mind. She assumed it was talking about Damien, but she didn’t know for certain. Again, Bayonetta had never seen him use anything like that.

But who else could it be?

“You alright, love?”

His voice brough to her attention that she was frowning very deeply. Softening her expression, she inhaled deeply and exhaled a long and continuous breath. “I can’t tell you for absolute certain, but I think it’s a very dear friend of mine.”

“You think?” The disbelief was very evident and completely unexpected. “Love, if we have allies in this place we really do need to know.”

“You tell my legs to cooperate and then we’ll know.” Bayonetta snorted at the absurdity of the statement and shook her head. “What a day… Now I’m sounding like Enzo.”

“Who’s Enzo?”

“A fat man with an even fatter head.” She briefly explained. “But either way, I’m certain if we do run into our helper, they will be quite the staunch…”

Her words trailed off and she too came to a stop. A cold feeling of unease trickled down her spine, increasing both her heartbeat and breathing.

If Damien was here, then he knew.

Jeanne was literally his best friend. From past experiences with his multiverse travelling’s, her brother would bottle up everything until he literally could not fit anything more in there. From what Jeanne had told her when they had their argument, he had practically exploded with pent-up resentment and worry. It would be much, much worse now.

She needed to find-

“Hey! What’s the hold up? Don’t you want to get to Fimbulventr?” The boy was standing in front of her, waving his arms. “Bayonetta!”

“It’s…” She found herself hesitating.

‘Do not trust him with this. Not yet.’

Her patron’s advice extended that hesitation. Why so?

‘Your relationship with Damien is still quite the unknown to everyone due to your own machinations. Do you really think trusting this boy with that information is correct or intelligent?’

Butterfly was correct. Besides herself, Jeanne, Luka and the Devil May Cry crew, Damien’s entire history and relationship with her was completely hidden away. Neither of them was completely sure of the reaction that the world would give them, considering that her relationship with Balder was received with scorn and hatred.

“How dare the whore daughter of our gracious Father murder him in cold blood!? She should be burned at the stake for what she has done!”

Eventually, the media and the world forgot this convenient fact and began to focus on how the ‘beautiful woman’ constantly hung out with the ‘monster of a man’ and how that was such a shame. Bayonetta’s thoughts darkened at this objectification. It was one thing to objectify her; she didn’t really mind it as much as Luka believed she did and could ignore it for the vast majority of the time. But to call her brother a monster, something that constantly ate at him and left him in tears?

That was enough to make her hunt down a few of these charlatan ‘journalists’ and warn them very severely that much, much worse could occur if they continued this path. For every one she stopped, a dozen more popped up and Luka was the one to convince her the crusade wasn’t worth it.

“Let’s just say he’s special.” She answered honestly. The boy crossed his arms and gave her another sceptical look-over.

“If that’s what you are gonna say, love. I just think you’re hiding something.”

“Where’s the fun in life if you don’t hide truths?” Bayonetta smirked and the boy rolled his eyes. The pair continued to walk towards the beginning of the bridge. The shadows on the building around them began to lengthen with each step and the Witch glanced over to see the sun setting, slowly dipping below the horizon. Red and orange streaks filled the sky, slowly giving way to the dark night.

And a full moon. Her senses and power were already tingling in anticipation of the strength it would grant her. A thought came to Bayonetta and she glanced down at him.

“So, little Ardilla, what is with those cards you used?”

“I dunno. They just come naturally to me. Be good if they did actual damage.” A small hand of cards appeared and he fanned them out. The Witch held a hand out and he passed her one. It was a small, cerulean blue design embossed with raised intricate gold patterns. Turning it over, she saw that the image of a tall, regal woman was embossed upon the face of the card.

‘Queen Sheba!?’ Butterfly hissed. Bayonetta frowned slightly and peered at the card a little closer.

That doesn’t look like Sheba.

‘That’s her human form.’

She started at that, slowly looking up and staring off into the distance. Queen Sheba has a human form?

Her patron snorted with derision. ‘Besides Argosax, she’s the first Demon to ever exist; a fact she constantly reminds us all of. How else do you think she came into being?’

The Witch gave it a few seconds, thinking about all the various creation myths. Most of them were absolutely preposterous, but some of them had a lot of similar features. I honestly thought she was a fallen Angel.

‘The only fallen Laguna in Inferno are Mundus and Rodin, the former whom was a fully-fledged Demon for a few years before leaving to become a…’ The Demon hesitated for a moment. ‘Primordius.’

That made sense. But what didn’t make sense was why the boy had a card embossed with the original image of the current Queen of Inferno.

Turning it back around, she stared a little closer at the golden ridges on the backside of the card. A strange glint caught her eye and they narrowed in response. It looked like-

Bayonetta turned around and stared up at the buildings around her. As expected, there was no person there and the Witch felt her skin beginning to crawl. Her eyes began to dart between rooftops, trying to justify her suspicion or alleviate her unease.

Someone was watching her.

“Love?” She turned to see the boy looking at her with wide eyes. “Is everything alright?”

She checked the rooftops behind him, then shook her head. This time it would pay to be truthful. “We shouldn’t linger. Stay vigilant, little one; someone or something is keeping an eye on us.”

The boy’s reaction was one she should’ve expected. “What!? There is? Who?”

“I don’t know, but I do want to find out. I’m not a huge fan of stalkers.” Her thoughts strayed to one of her closest friends and she reconsidered the statement. “Well, stalkers of the arcane kind.”

…

Balder stared down at the alleyway in undisguised hatred. She was here.

In the flesh. No images. No holograms. No tricks.

Bayonetta.

He gripped his two-ended glaive a little tighter, letting his rage fill him. She was the cause of everything, and here she was. Laughing and giggling without a care in the world.

Did she not care that her supposed best friend was dead?

Did she not care that her Infernals had abandoned her?

She didn’t care. Bayonetta had murdered his wife and child, caused her allies, close and far, deaths and was utterly alone in the world and she simply did not care.

Balder had once thought that the Witch could not lower his opinion of her further. Oh, how wrong he was.

Walking from rooftop to rooftop, he stayed out of sight when the Witch stopped and began to look for him. He wasn’t sure how she had found him; his aura was completely hidden and there was no reason for her to start scanning the rooftops.

Balder thought about it and mentally shrugged. Perhaps the careless nature was a façade for the constant paranoia she must have felt.

Observing the pair in a much more hidden location, the Sage finally realised where the pair were going to. The Witch and Loki were heading towards the entry point to the gigantic broken bridge that the town was built around. His head swivelled to the small plaza that lay ahead of them.

It was more than due time for justice to be handed out. The last vestiges of the sun’s power filled him before it set fully, granting him the strength to incantate a lightspeed spell. The world turned grey and he walked towards the bottleneck the pair would find themselves in.

First, the executioner.

Second, the schemer.

Vengeance would finally be served to those who deserved it the most.

…

“Stalkers of the arcane kind?” The boy raised an eyebrow at her. “Why not all stalkers, love?”

Bayonetta smirked and ruffled his hair, drawing an annoyed yelp from him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Hey! I do, thank you very much.”

“Let’s just say a little kitty named Cheshire got too curious for his own good.” The street opened up into a small plaza and the Witch glanced around with unease. Despite its size, the area was far too barren and open for her liking. “And then he discovered something that made him change his mind.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Bayonetta stopped in the centre of the plaza, placing her hands on her hips and surveyed the area with narrowed eyes. “He stalked me because he wanted justice for his father’s death. He stopped because we both found out that there was a lot more at stake. Then we became good friends when we survived the plot that enveloped us both.”

“So, this arcane stalker needs to survive a plot that was set up by a relatively unknown villain who affected both of your lives with you to not be a stalker?” The boy innocently asked.

‘That is spot on…’

And way too convenient.

She answered with a dirty look. “That’s far too on target for a normal guess.”

“Wait, I was right? I… just was having a bit of fun, that’s all!” The boy began to panic and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a bit cliched for that to happen, I think, but I had no idea! I swear!”

“Hush. Don’t worry too much about it.” One of Love is Blue dropped into her hand and she began to charge up a bullet with magic. “Besides, we need to keep our guard up, lest something terrible happens.”

Hoping to catch them off guard, Bayonetta twirled around and fired her gun at the unknown assailant. She watched with unimpressed expectancy when her purple bullet slowed to a halt, then dropped to the ground with a pitiful tinkle. Her eyes rose to finally get a good glimpse at her arcane stalker and she bit back a gasp.

It was the person from that dream. A long, creamy white robe hung loosely around their body, lined with gold, criss-crossing patterns that sectioned parts of the cloth into shapes akin to stained glass designs. A gold chain of red inset diamonds hung from their chest and hips, trailing down to his feet. The robe parted from the upper thigh down, revealing tight white pants that disappeared underneath long boots. A small heel raised these boots off the ground slightly and both that and the toe were made of pure gold. The sleeves flared out at the elbows to reveal the underside being coloured gold as well. These sleeves hung lower than their hands, which were encased in, you guessed it, white gloves with a gold trim. A singular red diamond was set on the back of the hand, central and opposite to the palm. Their face was covered by a mask and hood, the former which was encircled by nine indentations that led to a single viewing point in the centre of their face.

She knew exactly what this was.

“You’re a Lumen Sage.” Bayonetta’s voice did not waver or change; she was merely stating a fact.

“You know who this is?” The boy asked her and she could see him slipping behind her out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t. I know what they claim to be.”

“Well… Never hurts to try. Hey mate! Who are you?”

“I am not surprised you do not remember, Sovereign One.” The undoubtably male voice was muffled by the mask, but the venom in the words was unmissable. “My family and brethren were simply periods at the end of a long epic, were they not?”

The boy walked out from behind her, crossing one arm over his body and the other arm came to a rest on his chin. “I have no clue what you are talking about, mate, but that is a nice mask. Do you have something to hide?”

“Let’s not aggravate the Sage, little one.” Bayonetta pulled him back when she noticed the Lumen beginning to tense up. “But you… Just who are you and why are you here?”

“You should know why I am here, Umbra Witch.”

“Let go of me!” The boy shook himself free from her grip and stared at her. She didn’t return it and kept her eyes on the Sage. “Maybe you have something to tell me, love? I’m not a huge fan of getting wrapped up in domestic disputes.”

“I’ve met one Sage in my life, little one, and he was not my type.” Bayonetta growled, remembering Balder with revulsion. “What do you want? Because if it’s the same as the last, then you will suffer the same fate as him!”

“What I want, Witch, is both yourself and the trickster dead.” Each word was punctuated with calm rage, sending a chill down her spine. His hand slowly raised up and a white flash heralded the appearance of a double-bladed glaive. He twirled it around and brought it down to his side with efficiency; no flourishes, no fancy tricks. “Ever since I learned of all of their fates, bringing about vengeance for all you have wrought upon me is all I have thought about. It started with that girl you called a ‘best friend’; the woman you heartlessly abandoned in Inferno-”

“I’m travelling to Inferno now, Sage!” Bayonetta hissed, her ire and fury beginning to rise. “She will be saved before the sun sets tomorrow!”

“You have had a week to find her, yet you made no moves. You do not care for her.”

“You son of a bitch!” And with that Bayonetta sprang forward, her vision completely tinted red. Twisting her body, she started with a twisting kick that missed the man and smashed hard into the ground. The plaza cracked beneath her heel, spraying shards of concrete everywhere. The Sage snorted from her left, and she glanced over to see him just standing there, calm, relaxed and completely collected.

“The weight of your sins burdens you, Witch. You seek Inferno? I know the direct route.” The glaive moved slowly to point at her. “Once you have been sent off, as your destiny, I will deal with the trickster. My brothers will rest easy knowing their murderers are wiped from this world forever.”

“You will not touch the little one.” She hissed, twirling back upright and summoning the other half of Love is Blue into her free hand. “And besides, what kind of adult picks on little children?”

“He is no child. He is Loki, the trickster!” The Sage thundered and she could see the boy in the background clutch his head with pain. “He plans to subjugate all of humanity and I will stop him! You, Witch, aid his cause and you will be stopped!”

“Subjugate the world? That is news to me.” Bayonetta twirled one gun up to by her chin and adjusted her glasses with it. “Well, he still has answers for a lot of questions I have. And he’s my guide to Inferno. You can’t simply just have him.”

‘Be careful.’

Relax, Butterfly. I’ve fought a Lumen Sage before. I’ve fought Jubileus before! This will be fine.

‘I know.’ Her patron swallowed, uncharacteristically nervous. ‘But you did not win either of those battles.’

Shit. Butterfly was correct. Well, no better time than the present to change those into a definitive win.

The Sage started this time, tossing his glaive like a spear at her. Leaning out of the way, she turned to watch it pass by straight back into his grip on her other side. Not sparing a second, the Witch looped one leg around the handle and twirled around it, trying to weigh down the weapon out of his grasp.

It did not work as intended. The glaive disappeared and the Sage slammed his palm into her, thrusting her straight into the ground. Bayonetta landed hard and felt the air escape her lungs in a painful exhale.

“LEVANAEL!” Ozone and static filled the air in a horrible stench and Bayonetta rolled to escape the lightning that struck down after her. Flipping onto her knees, she fired a volley of bullets at the Sage’s head. Rather predictably, he waved his hand the bullets each slowed to a crawl. He swiped them all and let them drop to the ground.

“You are rather predictable, Witch. Did they not teach you not to rely on the same trick?”

The words bit at her and she felt her frustration beginning to surge. Taking in a few breaths, Bayonetta tried to calm herself down. It would do her no good to start becoming reckless at his behest; she needed to approach this with a level head.

Whereas Umbra Witches were driven and powered by emotion, Lumen Sages drew it from control and collectiveness. She needed to put him off his game, not let him get under her skin.

“I have plenty of more tricks, my dear Sage.” Bayonetta spat out, standing up and circling him to the left. “I don’t want to just give you all of them now, do I?”

“Intelligent, but not wise.”

The Lumen Sage rushed at her, the glaive flashing back into existence. He whipped it around his head and lashed out with a slice, of which she ducked under. He transitioned into a smooth uppercut, both blades cutting through the stone with no resistance whatsoever. Bayonetta dodged right and watched as the blade split into two, one half held as a normal sword and the other in a reverse grip.

Dancing around his next onslaught, she decided to try and give him a reason to be frustrated. “And giving me all the gossip on your tricks is a perfectly wise idea?”

The Sage did not answer and continued his assault. A swing at her hips was blocked by her heel. Bayonetta capitalised on the opening by pushing her foot down and ripped the blade from his grip. He did not falter and focussed on sending more flowing strikes at her with his remaining half, each one its own intricate dance.

Lowering herself under a backhand slice, she swung her leg out in an outstretched sweep and knocked the Sage off his feet. Her hair unweaved itself and launched out with a wicked thrust, tossing the man away. Unfortunately, he recovered with a twirl and landed on his feet, supporting himself with one hand.

“My ‘tricks’ do not need to be shown so early, Witch. But if you wish to use more powers beyond those necessary, then I will reply in kind.” The Sage summoned back the other half of his glaive and stuck the two back together. He reached up and plucked a feather from the air, then tossed it into the sky. “ZIRACAH!”

The golden light of Paradiso filled the area, illuminating all with its soft glow. The portal formed after, releasing a familiar Angel above the plaza.

“Hmmm… We remember you.” Fortitudo’s main head gazed dispassionately at her, its eyes slowly narrowing. “Umbra Witch.”

“Back for more?” Her gaze dropped to the Lumen Sage and she gave him a smirk. “Please, I didn’t even use a summon. But if that’s how you want to dance, then allow me to make the next step. SUNDENNA!”

Diomedes whinnied as they burst through her own portal, tossing its fiery mane impatiently. “We will destroy this Angel for you, our mistress.”

“There. Now it’s back to being even.”

The Sage grunted in anger and charged at her again. This time she met it with one of her own and the two clashed, gun against sword. In the background she could hear Diomedes swiping with its own weapon and Fortitudo responding with blasts of fireballs and flames. She broke from the stalemate and lashed out with two high kicks, aimed at his head. The Sage deflected them with a roll of the glaive and then twisted back to lunge at her with a thrust.

The Witch saw that coming and deflected it with a flick of a wrist barrier. He had anticipated this and formed a ball of transparent blue energy in his free hand, disengaging with a flip and launching the orb at her. A single shot shattered it and another spread the shards into the wind.

Diomedes roared and she looked up to see the Demon’s horn sword biting hard into the neck of the left head of the Auditio. The horse pulled it out and reared back again, but this proved to be a mistake with Fortitudo snapping at the forelegs with its uninjured head. The Demon whinnied in pain and reared back further. Bayonetta cursed and quickly recalled it back to her and Diomedes disappeared in a portal of hellfire and hair.

There was no time to waste as the Sage began another assault, this time comprised completely of magic. His glaive fell behind him in a neutral stance and his other arm raised. The floor followed and ignited into molten fireballs.

“SIZICIEL!”

As soon as the word of command left his lips the fireballs moved, shooting out with tremendous speed. Activating Witch Time, Bayonetta merely walked towards him with a confident smirked, pushing the last one back at-

The Sage appeared beside her, swinging his glaive in a deadly arc. She cursed and ducked under it, only to feel the ground beneath her begin to heat up.

“LAVA-”

She kicked him in the head before the incantation could be completed, knocking him off balance and out of her Witch Time. Ending the spell, she twisted and summoned another Demon while watching Fortitudo bear down on her, both draconic heads outstretched and ready to a Bayonetta-sized meal.

“ARGEDCO!”

Labolas appeared above it and immediately split into five. Each cat latched onto the Auditio and pulled it into the buildings around the plaza, crushing and exploding the stonework like a foot through a sandcastle. The Demons continued to swarm at the Angel, only stopping once the Sage recovered and dismissed his summon.

“Mistress?” The leader questioned, jumping down from the ruined building. She cocked her head towards her adversary and raised her eyebrow.

Labolas nodded and each cat turned their attention to the Sage. The man was unperturbed by this; it seemed he was simply awaiting their movements.

One of the cats grew restless and pounced. The Sage cast his hand out and it was thrown back by an invisible force, then disappeared into black smoke when he tossed his glaive and impaled it on a nearby wall. The other four cats growled, but ultimately Bayonetta called them back to Inferno. It was no use in wasting them like this, especially if they weren’t going to be as effective as she had imagined.

“I guess we’ll keep things nice and simple then?” Bayonetta asked, quickly checking around for the boy. She found him hiding behind a nearby bench, shuffling through some cards.

The Sage did not answer verbally. He instead tossed his glaive forward, repeating his opening move. She prepared to move out of the way-

It was a feint she should have seen coming. Her adversary seemingly warped and caught the glaive before it even reached her and brought it down with a hard slash at her face. Sluggishly, she leaned back to watch the weapon slide millimetres from her face, then slice through the gap between her cleavage and then through her thigh.

Pain erupted from the limb and she collapsed down with a gasp. A very quick, cursory glance down told her that the wound was superficial and not to be worried about. She could fix that later, when there wasn't a fight to be winning.

What was to be worried about was the Sage standing above her, glaive held up with both hands.

“Hey! Asshole!”

The familiar voice was followed by a familiar thwip of a grappling hook flying through the air. It punctured through the relatively exposed wrist of the Sage, pulling him off balance and, most importantly, away from her.

A twirl of the glaive severed the line and Bayonetta followed the falling strand to see Luka standing there, his face ashen. The hook and excess wire fell from the wrist of the Sage, covered in blood and small chunks of bone. She was, in a very small amount, impressed by this feat of endurance, but her thoughts were currently going a million miles per hour at her friend standing across from them.

How in the actual fuck was he here!? Did she not tell him very firmly not to come!? He was risking his life for what!? He didn't need to be here to help her!?

'Do not be so presumptious.' Butterfly murmured. 'But I am curious too.'

The voice of the Lumen Sage was far more subdued than it initially was. “Mortal. Leave us. This does not concern you.”

She almost bought its sincerity. 

“This doesn’t concern me? That’s my friend you are about to kill, asshole!” He fired back, taking the Sage’s hesitation as an opportunity to recoil up the wire. “That fucking concerns me!”

“Luka, get out of here!” She cried out, gesturing towards one of the entrances to the plaza. “Run before-”

“I’m not running, Bayonetta. This is our fight, not just yours.” His expression was resolute with determination. “And this asshole ain’t ruining anything yet!”

“I will not warn you only once more.” The Sage growled. “Do not make me bring harm to those I have sworn to protect-”

“The last Sage I know murdered millions, if not billions, of people. You aren’t different, so don’t claim to be.” Luka answered, raising his fists. Bayonetta began to panic and tried to stand up, but the ache of her leg flared up and she collapsed back down with a pained grunt.

Fire began to form into a flickering glove around his left fist when the Sage raised their free had. "Whatever lies the Witch has told you are nothing but falsehoods designed to withold the truth."

"I've searched for the truth for twenty years; a man who is afraid to show his face ain't going to be the one to tell me what's the truth and what's not!" 

"Luka!" She called out again, grabbing his attention. Once more, Bayonetta pointed to the exit to the plaze with desperation. “Please! Leave us! It's not safe!”

"Listen to your Witch for once, mortal." The Sage growled. "What are you planning to do if you do wish to aid her? Be a pointless distraction that will not render her any assisstance?"

“Well, it's a good thing I’m just the distraction.” The man finally broke out into a smile and the Witch wanted to smack herself at his stupidity. The first rule of being bait was that you don’t announce yourself as the bait-

A blue orb flew into her vision and the Sage twisted around to watch it arc towards him. He dodged with a flip before it could make contact and the magic projectile exploded on impact with the ground. He gathered himself into a low crouch, his head not moving and watched intently at something behind her.

Something wasn't the correct noun here, she chided herself. It was someone.

“Just what…” The voice was stunned and unsure. “Who are you?”

The person who answered sent a jolt of electricity down her spine and brought the same stupid smile to her face as it had six months ago.

“Hands off my sister.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Ascendant One

…

One month ago…

…

The wind howled inside the Qliphoth, shrieking with the screams of the souls it was consuming. Great arteries of blood pumped up and into the throne where their foe was sitting.

Damien reflected that calling it a foe was putting it very generously; Urizen had very much destroyed them all with ease.

He was there, that fateful afternoon. He was discussing Umbran sword techniques with Nero when Kyrie had asked him for help with dinner. The singer had then teased him mercilessly about his apparently ‘hopeless’ love life, despite him desperately trying to convince her that there was no life to tease. Nico then, without skipping a beat, joined in on the fun and everything was as normal. About five seconds later an ear-splitting scream of pain erupted from the garage and they all ran to investigate.

What they discovered was a hooded man holding the Yamato walking through a portal and Nero lying in a pool of blood, his demonic arm severed from the elbow down.

A few days later, the four got an urgent message from Dante; he had discovered the name of the Demon that was responsible and someone had paid him very handsomely to deal with it. Damien re-joined his friends instantly and Dante, Lady, Trish and himself embarked to find the Demon that the benefactor had named Urizen.

They did not need to search for long. A tree erupted from the depths of Inferno into and through Red Grave City and grew into the mortal realm, consuming all it touched. Dante somehow knew this was the work of this Urizen and guided them all into the depths of what he dubbed the Qliphoth. The girls shared his suspicion in a mental conversation; something was clearly bothering the half-devil and it was definitely impairing his judgement.

Lady then told him that her partner had never acted this way before. Trish recalled that Dante had acted in a similar fashion once; however, that was a long time ago during some event at a place called Mallet Island. The Demoness did not elaborate, saying it was a tale for another time.

It didn’t take all that long until the team met Urizen; a large being, albeit small for a Demon, who sat upon a throne of corpses and connected to the tree. Dante charged in without forming any sort of plan or strategy, forcing the rest to join him in his fruitless endeavour.

It was a complete decimation. Dante was not prepared for the power that a chair bound Demon could expel and the four of them were pummelled by an onslaught of spells that not even he was half familiar with. The three had turned to him for a counter, being the magic-based combatant that he was. If Khepri was available to give him some advice, then maybe he could have made a difference. Damien then promptly decided that if he didn’t know what was happening, then he could use magic that this Urizen would definitely have no idea of. He envisioned utilising the sorcery he was taught a few months prior and surprising everyone with his ingenuity and power.

So what actually happened was he tried to cast Comet Azur and was instantly squashed by a dozen fireballs, annihilating him out of the battle. Trish tried to blindside the Demon with the same ‘charge in and hit them really hard’ strategy that Dante used and was promptly tossed aside by pillars of blue fire. Dante had called out for Lady to run, but the entrance had grown over and the gunslinger was not going to flee. She charged up Kalina Ann, but even she had to know that it was pointless. The launcher was ripped from her hands by a series of lasers, and then she pulled out a strange gun that radiated Demonic energy.

That too was ripped out of her grip and then she was battered by an onslaught of tentacles that grew from the floor itself.

And here they were now, back in the present. All four were at the Demon’s mercy and awaited their fates with pained groans.

“Dante!”

Damien managed to roll over to see Nero and Dante’s benefactor looking at the carnage before them. His friend had abandoned his normal attire for a short sleeve leather black jacket that only came up to his elbows. One hand rested on the Red Queen on his back, whereas the other half arm was held limply by his side.

“And so, the prodigal son finally arrives…” Urizen droned, lifting his leaning head off his palm with disinterest. “Have you come to join in on the fate of your friends?”

“I’ve come to fucking kill you, you big bastard.” Nero pulled his sword out and slammed it into the ground, point first. Twisting his wrist a few times, the weapon revved up and began to glow a soft red, a hard contrast against the purple tree. “You took my arm.”

“A small price to pay for the ultimate power.” The Demon answered. “You have no understanding of what is occurring here, child.”

“Kid… Get away…” Damien heard Dante whisper out. “It’s not worth it.”

“The hell with whether it’s not worth it or not! I’m finishing what you started, old man.” Nero shouted. “I’m taking him down!”

He could see Lady and Trish lying comatose in between him and the newcomer. Damien reached out mentally to Nero and pleaded desperately: “Nero, don’t! If we could not do it, what makes you think you can do it by yourself?”

“Are you calling me weak!?” The response was very explosive and unfortunately very predictable.

“Nero, you’re just dead weight.” A shuffling sound echoed from behind him caused Damien to roll over. Dante was back to his feet, leaning on the Rebellion for support. “Go! Leave and find some help!”

“I’m not fucking leaving! I’m not dead weight! I’m going to help-”

“Nero! Go!” The hunter turned around slowly and raised Ebony up. “I started this fight; it’s time to finish it with round two.”

And he charged in, transforming into his Devil within. Two leathery wings extended out from his back, flapping hard and launching the man into the sky. The handgun blazed and Rebellion was held aloft, ready to strike down upon Urizen with what Damien assumed would be a devastating blow.

Only it never came. The Demon lazily held a hand out and a rippling barrier of energy formed in front of them, colliding with Dante’s strike with a boom. The half-devil threw his gun to the ground and focussed on piercing through the ward. A scream erupted from his throat, inhumane and raw, from the exertion.

“Dante!”

“We must go.” The benefactor spoke, his voice a velvet silver. “Nero, observe; we are of no use here. Not now.”

“Grab the girls!” Damien desperately reached out, flopping onto his back. His shattered limbs spiked with agony, but he gritted his teeth and expanded his mind. Telekinetically grabbing Lady and Trish, he began to levitate them towards the entrance of the-

Urizen’s barrier exploded. He lost concentration and everyone went flying towards the outer walls of the throne room. Damien felt his body ragdoll into the wall with a sickening crunch and he almost fell unconscious from the pain.

“Imbeciles. You still continue this pointless struggle.” Urizen spoke, and then Damien heard Dante struggling. “We have already broken your body, your mind and your soul.”

“Fuck you, Ve-”

“We will break your spirit, son of Sparda!”

The sounds of metal snapping echoed through the room and Damien finally glanced over to see Dante flung into the walls, shattering through it and out of sight completely.

“No!”

The sounds of a scuffle made Damien want to turn and look at the entrance, but the protests from his body forced him to abandon that idea. “Nero! Stop! We must go! We need to find the Umbra Witch or anyone else who can-”

“Fuck that! We need to save them!”

“Do not throw your life away so carelessly, Nero! If you fail, there will be no one left to stop Urizen!” The benefactor hissed and Damien assumed that he was dragging Nero back. “He has won this round.”

Echoing and fading footsteps heralded their retreat and Damien sighed in relief. At least they weren’t going to die today.

His throat constricted and tears began to form in his eyes, blurring his vision. He was going to die. He was going to die and he had not even told Bayonetta where he was, not told Jeanne-

He was panicking. He was scared! Taking in a few, painful deep breaths Damien tried to calm himself down. His sister probably didn’t even know that he was about to die. Or even that he was in trouble. Him going radio silent for weeks on end was a normality that they were all probably used to.

And now they were going to discover his dead body again, if they ever found it.

“Hmmm… Even though we broke you all, you all are strong. You will have uses.”

Lady was the first. Urizen pulled the human towards them, then the Demonic gun followed. “Your will and drive make you relentless. You will be the hand that hunts.”

A bright light concealed the pair, and then a strange butterfly-like creature hovered in the air. A soft, melodic cry erupted from its throat and then it burst upwards and out of sight.

Trish was second. “Your strength, your independence; you are the traitor that spurned the Prince of Darkness long ago. You will be the hand that leads.”

The Demoness floated into the sky, then another white light encompassed the area. It receded to show an armoured hulk of a demon. “Cavaliere Angelo. Gather from Inferno what Demons you can and bring them for additional… security.”

“As you wish, lord Urizen. But I require a steed.” The Demon housing Trish snarled the statement. “Covering that much ground of the Underworld on foot is an exercise in folly, especially with your demands.”

Damien felt himself fly up into the air, held aloft by an outstretched arm from Urizen. “Hmmm… You confuse me. We can sense potential, grafted upon thee by unnatural forces. Yet…”

White light began to flare up at the edges of his vision. “Your affinity with time is something we have never seen before. You will be of use to me.”

His body began to transform and Damien mentally sighed with relief. He wasn’t going to die, yet.

But the panicked feeling returned as he realised that his sister may yet be the one to kill him, especially if the transformation was anything like the ones he had just seen.

His last thought was of hoping that they all may still get out of this one.

Alive.

…

Several hours ago…

…

Damien slowly awoke when the van came to a rumbling stop. Faint voices could be heard in the background, one agitated and another calm.

Van? Voices? Where was he?

His eyes opened to a blurry ceiling of metal and paint. Details slowly made themselves clearer as he blinked away the excess water out of them; he wasn’t under a ceiling.

He was under a table.

A coarse blanket had been placed over his nude body and he shifted stiffly underneath it. His wing had been folded awkwardly to the side, and he could feel the light pulses of a cramp beginning to form. Fortunately, whatever Urizen had done to him had healed his body in addition to everything else that had happened.

He sarcastically thanked the Demon for sparing him of the pain.

Turning his head slowly, he found that the reason he was on the floor and shoved under the shared table was because the couch was already taken. An exhausted Lady lay there, her face worn and twisted in discomfort. Another wave of relief passed through him and he thanked Sheba that at she had survived.

Was Trish here? A rushed mental scan showed him nothing of the Demoness and a cold feeling replaced the relief. Jeanne would not like to hear that her partner was possibly dead, if she wasn’t already hunting down the whatever-Urizen-referred-to-her-as (Angelo? His memories were still quite fuzzy). And that was assuming his Umbran family was involved in the current situation. He assumed they would be; he had come to Jeanne’s ‘rescue’ before. It made sense she would do the same for him.

Moving slowly again, he managed to pull the blanket off him and then himself out from under the table. Groaning with exertion, he sat up and began to lift his body off the ground. Using the table for support, he stumbled over to the ‘fresher and gripped the sink with both hands for support. Raising his head, he looked upon his tired reflection for the first time.

The dark circles under his eyes stood out even more against his pale skin. His hair now sat upon his head as loose strings of sickly silver, almost translucent under the fluorescent light. A hand reached up and touched his chin gingerly, noting just how sharp and underfed his features looked. His stomach growled in response, as if it were trying to tell him that ‘Yes, you need food. Now go and get some.’

To his relief, his features were still freshly shaven. Everyone had gotten confused shortly after he settled into a ‘normal’ life over his lack of shaving. Damien and Jeanne then explained that a side effect of the experiments that created him was that his facial hair minus his eyebrows was removed. He didn’t know, Jeanne also didn’t know; but it was a fact and his sister and the rest of his friends accepted easily. Bayonetta had a theory it was a subconscious use of Umbran abilities to mould his hair to his preferences, but Damien reminded her that his Umbran abilities were still non-existent.

It was a small detail, but at least it told him his inherent powers were still active. That was a good sign.

A wave of nausea rolled through him, interrupting his musings with a harsh drag back to reality, and he leaned down and vomited straight into the sink. Black sludge erupted from his throat like pus from a wound, burning and ripping through everything in its path. Coughing and hacking up some more, Damien just stood there, gripping the sink tighter and begged for the wave to pass over.

He wanted to talk to Khepri. His patron could always be counted on to help him out in these situations, even offer him a word of advice or the exact solution for the problem. But for two months, she had been completely silent. Both of his other inhabitants could not offer him any advice where the Madama had gone or why. She just never answered one day and that was the extent of it.

No warning or even a heads up. And now he suffered alone, in a van he vaguely recognised while Lady slept on the couch while he was shoved onto the floor.

Speaking of which, he turned his head to see his wing drooping over. Clumps of feathers were barely holding onto the sickly flesh of his extra limbs, whereas the others were bent at odd angles. Damien grimaced; that was going to take a lot of effort to get right, even if it could become ‘right’ again after fixing it by hand.

He looked terrible, he felt terrible; Damien hoped that Lady was at least spared most of this.

A low whistle interrupted his agony. “Man, if you had some more meat on your bones? That would be one fine ass. Might even turn me bi.”

“Shut up.” He barely managed to form the words, but they didn’t grate on his throat. That must’ve just been from misuse and was definitely fixable with enough time and water.

Almost like a prayer answered, a cup of water appeared underneath him. Reaching it with one shaky hand, he tried to lift it to his lips to soothe his parched throat. Instead of the relief, another wave tore through him and more black sludge was expelled from his body.

“Jesus Christ… Lady wasn’t this bad, but then again she wasn’t stupid enough to try walking around once she woke up.” The glass of water was saved by the same hand that offered it. Nico’s concerned face replaced it once the second wave of vomit had stopped, staring up at him with worry. “You all done ruining my plumbing?”

“Yes.” Damien did not trust himself to nod. Nico did and disappeared from sight once more. He could see her in the mirror lifting the cup up and against his lips. He accepted it and let the cold, wondrous liquid flow down his throat.

The effects weren’t immediate, but he did feel a lot better.

“Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” The woman asked, refilling the cup with a jug. She continued before he could answer, gently shoving the cup against his lips. “The bad news is that we haven’t found Trish and it has also been a full month since you became Mr Horsey. The good news is that we found you and Lady and now Nero is kicking some serious butt. All thanks to me.”

Typical Nico. Taking credit for everything. Damien could not fault her line of thinking; the vast majority of sticky situations the Devil May Cry crew had found themselves in had generally been solved with her inventions.

But at the same time, she was the theory and Nero was the practical. It took two to tango and win, not just one with another cheering them on from the sidelines.

“Anyway, can you have a shower? You stink of Demon, horse, goop and God-knows what else.” Nico raised an eyebrow at him when he frowned in response. “What? You think I can’t wash you? I’ve seen you naked plenty of times after missions. None of this,” she gestured at his scar-ridden body with the jug. “Is that impressive anymore. I just think that you can wash yourself, that’s all.”

“What do you mean ‘plenty of times?’ What are you not telling me?” He growled, feeling a little uncomfortable with that declaration.

“Heh. Remember that mission with the succubus? And the one with the incubus? You were practically fucking the damn thing-”

His eyes widened and he practically fell into the shower. “Go away! I’m having a shower now! And never speak of that again, you hear me!”

Nico’s teals of laughter followed him. “Alright, alright! Calm down! I’ll go and let Nero know you’re awake and then we’ll start discussing our next move. Clothes will be on my armchair.”

…

After a very difficult shower that his pride would not allow him to ask for help with, Damien slowly walked out to see Nero standing there, arms crossed.

Arms?

“I am fucking glad to see you.” The man had the same concerned look on his face that Nico did. “We found Lady early on, the day before yesterday, and that gave us a lot of hope that you and Trish could be found.”

“What happened?” The information was useful, but the young hunter was forgetting that he still had no context to this whole situation.

“You want the long version or the short version?” Nico piped up from outside. He could lightly smell the scent of smoke in the air. “Because the short version is that everything is kinda fucked. Long version is that everything is actually fucked.”

“Nico’s right. The Qliphoth erupted a month ago and you four went in. Me and V went-”

“V?” Damien asked out of reflex.

“He’s the guy who hired Dante. Anyway, we went in after you and found that you were all annihilated. We retreated and watched as the Qliphoth consumed practically all of Red Grave City.” Nero explained. “Nico decided to make me a new arm and we planned out a rescue mission.”

He held up a metal attachment on his right arm. It was… a mixture of cooking utensils attached to metal pole that ended with a drill chuck containing a fork. Damien just stared at it with confusion.

“That’s a weapon?” He asked. Nero glanced at it and his eyes widened. A sheepish grin formed on his face as he returned his eyes to him.

“Well, not this one specifically. But you interrupted me during my meal and so I came running to make sure you weren’t going to die on me or something. Didn’t have a chance to show off one of the more battle-ready ones.”

Nico walked in and leaned over the bench opposite the van’s entry. Damien averted his eyes on reflex, only for an item to slam into his head. The gunslinger called out after it with a large amount of mirth in his voice: “Honestly, I’ve met both you and Jeanne and I still haven’t figured out who the bigger prude is.”

He leaned down and grabbed the strange object. It was a blue cannon, shaped like a bulbous egg with one end resembling a plug. Turning it over and examining the charge display briefly, he raised his head back and stared holes into the gunsmith.

“That is a Mega Buster Devil Arm.” She announced with a devious smirk on her face. “Nero can use it to shoot if he doesn’t want to use Blue Rose.”

“…” Damien wordlessly tossed it back and turned to Nero. “Are Bayonetta and Jeanne around?”

“We… didn’t want them involved.” Nero shook his head.

“What!?”

The young man curled his human hand into a tight ball. “Look, I need to do this myself. Dante called me a deadweight, and I don’t want to prove him right!”

“Asking for help doesn’t make you a deadweight.” Damien glanced to the armchair to see a set of mismatched clothes. Reaching out to them, he started with underwear and then the pair of black pants. They all hung loosely off his frame. “If anything, it means you have recognised your limitations, which is why we didn’t want you there.”

“I’m not changing my mind, Damien.” Nero began to pace, walking three steps between the table and the driver’s seat in a short cycle. “Besides, me and V got this far without any help. We can go the rest of the distance easily.”

A loud cry, similar to an eagle, pierced through the conversation. Exactly six seconds later, a small purple bird swooped in and landed on top of the table. Damien stared at it in confusion as it shook itself dry, unruffling a few of its own feathers.

“What?” It asked, the jaw splitting open as it spoke. “You look like you got something to say, birdman.”

“Nero?”

Nico was the one to step forward, leaning over and regarded the bird with a glare. “Mr Chicken returns, huh? Where’s your master then?”

“V? He’s on his way. He also sent me onwards to say that he has caught a scent of Dante and the Devil Sword Sparda.” It flapped its wings and jumped onto the refrigerator. “And it seems one of our sleeping beauties woke up- hey!”

A pillow went flying into the bird, knocking it over. It screeched a few times, then the pillow went flying down to the ground. “That was rude! Who threw that?”

“One of your sleeping beauties.” An extremely annoyed and tired voice called out. Damien and Nero both moved to see Lady awake. “You are so fucking loud, Demon.”

Nero was the first to react. “Lady! You’re awa-”

Another pillow flew into his face. “The same goes for you, Nero! About the only decent people who have any memory of being quiet in the presence of sleeping people is Nico and Damien.”

Nico swooned in the background, the back of one hand resting on her forehead dramatically. “She called me decent! Be steady, my heart…”

“You alright?” Damien glanced around to see no sign of the jug. Taking a few steps over, he opened up the fridge and found both it and a spare glass.

“Well, be glad that you are half-demon for once. I feel like someone dropped a city block on me!” The bite and energy in her words, as dulled as it was, put a smile on his face. “They found you after me and yet you are already walking around and you have clothes on!”

“To be fair, Lady, you did tell us not to dress you.”

“Wrong. I told Nico not to dress me and you are still too pious to even look at another nude woman that isn’t Kyrie.” Lady refuted, then sighed at the hunter's indignant expression. “Don’t give me that look!”

“Kyrie would kill me-” Nero tried to explain.

“If you let me tell the tale she would.” Nico folded her arms and shifted her weight onto her right foot. “Just sayin’.”

“And that’s why you aren’t allowed back at my place until I get one day, alone, with her to explain everything.”

Nico poked her tongue out. “I knew I should’ve taken pictures.”

Damien ignored the pair and offered the filled cup to Lady. She accepted and adjusted herself until she was somewhat more upright. One arm slipped out of the blanket and very gingerly took the cup. A small sound of happiness squeaked out from her and she raised the cup to her lips. “At least I’ve got enough strength back to do that.”

He could still hear Nico and Nero in the background. “Taken pictures? What, so you could perve on Lady later?”

“I perv on her directly to her face, thank you very much. I have class-”

“You have class? Remind me, who’s the person here who is constantly called crass by their dates?”

“At least I can look at people without blushing every five seconds. How about you remind me who couldn’t look anyone in the eye when we found Lady?”

“I had to keep you basically off of her! And I did not blush every five seconds, it was only every ten! Or something like that!”

Damien sighed to himself. “Does it bother you?”

Lady rolled her eyes and gave him a weak smile. “If they weren’t arguing, then we would have a problem. And besides, I know Nico never means half of the things she says.”

“I timed it, Nero. Your record was two seconds when Lady’s leg slipped out from the blanket.”

“E-either way, why can’t you keep your mouth shut?”

“Because beautiful women shouldn’t be deprived of such beautiful wit.”

“Beautiful wit?” The bird had adjusted itself back upright and was staring down at the four with unamused eyes. “Your version of ‘beautiful wit’ always ends with a joke about eating me! And that ain’t funny!”

“Well, Bayonetta laughed at one of my jokes once.” Nico placed her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to her other foot. “That’s a huge win!”

“Only because she felt sorry in the silence that followed.” Nero chided under his breath. The gunsmith turned to him and glared.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing!”

“Good.” She turned to him and tilted her head. “That reminds me; how the hell did you surround yourself with all the beauties in the world? Of the two groups I know, Lady, Trish and Kyrie are hot gal but holy shit Bayonetta is a bombshell! And my god, Trish is the luckiest woman I swear.”

“That’s my sister you are talking about.” Damien angrily replied. “And don’t talk about Jeanne like that.”

“Hey, your sister once tried to seduce you.” Nico shrugged. “Not exactly grounds to deny that you can call her hot. And besides, you’re the one who constantly gets weird whenever we bring Jeanne up, not us!”

“That was a long time ago when we both didn’t know any better.” The winged man stood up and frowned. “How the hell do you know about that? We both kinda never really talked about it later.”

“She once told me after we were finished, late at night.”

Damien gave her a hard and flat stare that he was sure was reminiscent of Jeanne’s disappointed looks after a failed training session in Umbran prowess. Nico’s fast reaction gave him confirmation it worked.

“Hey! I’m kidding! She once told me because you were acting a little weird at the time and thought you were focussing on that for some reason. Turns out it was a lingering issue because you went to Kathreftis and… yeah. Don’t think I need to explain further.”

The mention of the other universe sent a pang of sadness through Damien. His expression crumpled and he tried not to react further than that.

He was vaguely successful.

Nero had noticed and started covering for him, trying to draw the conversation away and onto himself. “Why did you have to bring that up? You know he doesn’t like talking about that.”

“He doesn’t like talking about any of it. We only learned the names of the universes because Rodin or Bayonetta told us. One day he’s gonna talk about i-”

“And it won’t be today.” Nero said firmly.

Damien remembered everything that had happened in the last five months, now six, vividly, as much as he did not want to. He had been asked by Rodin at the celebration party after Balder’s defeat for a favour in order to remunerate being gifted the Sharuba. That favour ended up being travelling to other worlds, which in of itself was something amazing and beyond his wildest imagination. Bayonetta and Jeanne were also as enthused as him; they were very much in agreement with him going on a literal adventure to the complete unknown.

If he had known how much it would hurt then he would’ve said no.

The first time Rodin used his so-called ‘Dimensionator’ it had exploded upon activation. Despite this very catastrophic setback, it still worked and he managed to traverse the multiverse; the first being to do so in approximately nine hundred years. In the first universe he had sent him to, Kathreftis Sympan, he had broken the first rule that Rodin had told him; do not get attached.

He met the Primordius of the world first; an anxious and suspicious man who instantly stripped him of his powers and memory in order to ‘test a few things.’ And those things were essentially enslaving children in order to save his world from his darker half because he was a Primordius who refused to get involved. Damien, despite the limitations, had befriended this group of teenagers who literally were superheroes in every sense of the word. Hell, he had even fallen in love at one point with someone, the sister of a member of the team, and she had returned the feelings.

It all went wrong when he was blamed for the murder of a man. The team and himself had been investigating a string of murders, and the latest victim was killed in a way that painted him as the perpetrator. Despite his innocence, he was blamed for both that and every single previous murder. There was no evidence against him besides his inhumane appearance and once again the fear of the unknown sowed discord to the point he was ostracised by everyone; even those who had claimed were his closest allies. Combined with the onset belief that he wasn’t actually real due to his abilities and appearance being far beyond what was considered normal in that universe, he walked away from it all and tried to make sense of everything. The resultant realisation manifested what was known as a palace and a shadow to rule it.

Half of the teenagers had not believed the initial accusations and managed to convince the other half once they had discovered proof of a traitor. They dealt with them and turned their attention to him, entering his palace to try and rescue him from the grips of despair and mania. They were a lot less than successful with this futile attempt and he watched with powerless horror as his shadow revealed his true nature and power, toying with each person until one of the daughters of the Primordius stepped in to defeat it before it could torture them all to death. She then broke the magical bindings on him and his real memories and powers returned.

Everything he had thought was completely wrong; his existence, his strength and even his feelings. The woman he thought he loved was but a façade and was simply a replacement for… someone else. Fearing losing everyone, he tried to figure out what to do and then was promptly whisked off back to his home universe without a chance to ever explain. The Primordius had explained that it was ‘better’ that he wasn’t involved, even though it was the assholes’ fault for putting him in that position in the first place.

He arrived back hurt, confused and extremely distressed. It had taken a full week before he could tell Jeanne and Bayonetta an extremely abridged version of events that essentially was: ‘I got there, I made friends, I was forced to leave before explaining why.’ They did not get any other details and thankfully they did not ask further.

Rodin had been very patient and accepting of his predicament, even going as far to tell him that it was expected of that specific Primordius. The gunsmith apologised for what happened and then requested he continue on with his task.

“This time, I would like you to take someone along with you.” He said, staring at Bayonetta. “Someone to keep you on track on what you are meant to do, not to go gallivanting through another world for a year and getting attached to everyone and everything.”

Damien agreed with this logic. He didn’t want to be an angst-bomb, but the pain of separation was very much fresh and he wanted to go in and out with no problems.

The second world, Tamriel, was much better. Even though the pair were ambushed instantly by a member of the only people aware of the multiverse, there was no open hostility like in Kathreftis. It was quickly explained that the population of the universe were not ready for such information and so he was simply moving them to a better location before actually deciding what to do next. The man, who introduced himself as Quaranir, had guided them to an ancient brotherhood that lived atop a mountain and left them there, apparently to consult the Primordius on their own request for an audience. The leader of this brotherhood, Arngeir, allowed them to practice their abilities and Bayonetta began to finally teach him the true power of the Umbra. They didn’t make any headway before the previous man returned and gave them a quest of sorts in order for them to meet the Primordius.

In short, they saved the world from a vampire apocalypse.

According to Quaranir, the person who was destined to do… well, everything had been born far too late. The mage explained that their appearance had shifted a lot of predetermined events to occur well before they were ever supposed to. Actual, real-life dragons had arrived and an ancient clan of vampires started to make their move to simply wipe out the sun and begin world domination. The dragon problem persisted, as neither of them could actually kill them permanently, but the vampires were something they got themselves entangled with.

It started with finding a vampire in a crypt who didn’t immediately bite his neck for a meal and it spiralled into a web of politics, a world ending catastrophe, finding and hoarding several objects with the same power as the Eyes of the World and, of all things, being shrunk to the size of a mouse.

Bayonetta still teased him mercilessly about it to this day. Well, a month ago, but he expected her to make a joke about it once they were reunited.

Once the Vampires, formerly known as the Volkihar Clan, were dealt with, the pair had to say goodbye to a few good friends and found themselves in the court of Akatosh. The Primordius accepted their message and told the pair to give Rodin a warning;

They were missing. Both Bayonetta and himself were completely confused by this statement, but the God merely waved his hand to send them on their way.

The siblings relayed the message once they returned and even the gunsmith was utterly confused. Shaking his head, Rodin sent them out to the next world; Drakenguard.

The world was dead. Machines loitered upon the landscape, wandering aimlessly for seemingly eternity. Further investigation had revealed that there was an alien invasion that forced all of humanity to flee to the Moon. In their place, they designed analogues called Androids that were meant to fight forever to rid the world of these machines. It was very quickly determined that there was no Primordius to find and Bayonetta left. Damien, however, noticed something strange and stayed back to investigate further.

There was a cycle. Two specific Androids seemed to be stuck in a loop of sorts and he wanted to know why. Jeanne was close to the portal on the other side and he dragged her in to help him. What the pair discovered made both of them sick.

The Androids fought for nothing. The Androids and the machines were related and were created from the same factory, essentially. The remnants of a previous Primordius, recreated into an AI known as the Red Girls, desired nothing more than to escape this world and was trying to construct the perfect humanoid form, using this permanent cycle as a way to gather data.

Jeanne and himself were horrified at these revelations and tried to conjure up a plan that would stop this plan and free the Androids to live their own life.

It backfired horribly. Everyone died and now the haunted, dead world was nothing more than a corpse. Jeanne had taken this failure much better than he had, despite her mood and overall self-esteem falling into a dark spiral. They returned back to Rodin and Damien swore to never leave this universe again. Everywhere he went seemed to only serve to hurt him, or be destroyed by him.

Bayonetta was never told of this and he kept it all inside. Damien did not want to burden anyone, especially since he was the leech that suckered off of both his sister and his friend. He kept his head low and continued as normal, failing to notice the dark cloud that was forming between him and the former heiress.

His and Jeanne’s ailing relationship came to a head when he found her passed out from drinking for the seventh day in a row. A heated argument then broke out, and he pushed her buttons to the point she finally lashed out. Every venomous word she said was correct; he had tried to murder children. He had wanted to murder millions. And now all he did was sulk and feel sorry for himself while Jeanne was practically wasting her life away because of her far more relevant past and trauma that haunted her every step.

(Bayonetta had reassured him that her actions were not acceptable and that he did not need to apologise at all for his own. But he knew she didn’t have the full picture.)

Like always, he ran away from his problems and tried to bury them with something else. Damien returned to Rodin and went to the fifth and final universe; the Lands Between. He swore he would not get involved. He swore that he was only there to find the Primordius and leave. That was it.

It was almost like he could not help himself. Odd jobs began popping up for those who seemingly still had their sanity left; return an heirloom here, find a missing person there and Damien couldn’t refuse to help. Eventually his combat prowess attracted the attention of a few sorcerers and he was asked to partake in a festival in the country of Caelid; one that was honoring a former general and a former Demi-God of the world.

That was when he met Torwyn, an apprentice sorcerer who was undertaking the ultimate quest of them all; to reclaim and reforge another item he learned was as powerful, if not slightly weaker, than the Eyes of the World. And, just like everywhere else, he couldn’t help himself but lend his aid.

Damien did take steps to prevent himself from getting himself too involved. The only time he was part of the party the man had accumulated was during a mission to break him free from a deal with a rogue sorcerer that wished to control Demigods as puppets. Every other time they crossed paths, Damien tried to act like everyone else in the world; he offered cryptic advice and sometimes helped out with a particularly tough enemy.

The problem was that he was still nowhere near the Primordius. There were several powerful beings that he could sense, but nothing like Akatosh, Rodin or even Philemon. He didn’t want to resign himself to there being no Primordius, like Drakenguard, because of the sheer number of beings that lived in the world; one of them had to be the being he was looking for.

Torwyn found them first. According to him, the Primordius Placidusax had taken residence in a pocket dimension that was also inside of a realm outside of time and that was inside of a time paradox.

No wonder he couldn’t find them.

The apprentice sorcerer relayed to him that Placidusax already knew of his existence and was making preparations for the message he was supposed to give. Surprised at this turn of events, he left the world not long after, but not before he gave Torwyn one more pep talk and no more than two lines of cryptic advice.

Damien returned to his universe and made his way back to Jeanne. He profusely apologised to her and she did the same for him, albeit with less enthusiasm. Their relationship survived, but there was always an underlying tension. One that grew tenfold when she began a relationship with Trish, but that was because of very unrelated reasons that he definitely did not want to talk about.

And yes, returning to the original reason for this tangent, Nico was correct. He refused to talk about his experiences in the other worlds and both Jeanne and Bayonetta respected his decision for silence. Kathreftis and Drakenguard were painful enough as memories; Tamriel and the Lands Between were their own can of worms that he did not want to open.

“Nero is right. We have other things to focus on.” Damien stood up and re-entered the conversation. “Do we know where Dante and Trish are?”

“The Demoness was the being that rode you.” A soft, unfamiliar voice spoke. “I have been pursuing her while you were having your nap.”

Dante’s benefactor then stepped into the van, his cane clicking on every second step. He was a tall, thin man whose pale skin was covered in swirling tattoos. A simple black vest sat upon his upper body, exposing a lot more than it covered. Long black pants actually covered his lower body, whereas open sandals were his footwear as opposed to boots. Medium length black hair swirled around his head, hiding and teasing an arrogant smirk that constantly played on his lips.

“V! You’re back!” The bird Demon cawed and flapped its wings with excitement. “Although your phrasing needs a lot of work.”

“I was gonna say…” Nero rubbed the back of his head. “Griffon said you found Dante?”

“He’s close by. I can sense him.” V’s green eyes swept across the inside of the van, scrutinising everyone. “Ah, Lady. It is good to see you awake again.”

“Yeah, thanks for nothing. Asshole.” Her voice piped up from behind. “Where’s Trish?”

“I have been unable to locate your friend. She escaped my vigilance when we made sure to rescue your feathery friend from Geryon.” He answered, almost in an annoyed tone. Damien wasn’t too sure how to react to that. It was almost as if he was blaming him for losing the woman-

Well, he was right. If he had never been captured in the first place-

“You specifically asked for the big guns, essentially, when you hired Dante in the first place.” Nico raised an eyebrow and walked behind her tinkering bench. “Damien here is the best magician on the planet. Well, maybe not a magician but you get my point. There is no one stronger than him at the arcane side of things.”

V chuckled. “Well, if he was so strong, then how was he defeated by a novice magic wielder?”

A low growl escaped his throat and Damien made to step forward. A weak grip on his wrist turned him back briefly to see Lady shaking her head at him.

It’s not worth it, her eyes said. Just let it go.

“Alright, let’s not fight. At least we kinda know that Dante is still within Red Grave city. Trish shouldn’t be too hard to find; not that many places for her to be in.” Nero held his hand and fork up placatingly. “Unfortunately, Damien, we don’t really have that much time to waste and you’re kinda… well… You’re stronger than Lady is right now, but you’re currently much weaker than your full potential. Even you have to admit that.”

“I can fight. I want to help!” He burst out to the others' surprise. “I was there when you lost your arm, Nero. I was there when we lost everyone! And what did I do? Sweet fuck all.”

“Don’t get too far into the blame game, Bird Boy.” Nico commented, wiping away some dust and filaments. “None of us did anything because none of us could.”

“She’s right.” Lady spoke up. “Dante was struggling hard against Urizen and then lost, and he is the strongest of us all. There’s no shame in losing to a much superior foe.”

“And that’s why I need to help. Trish is still out there and I need to find her and make sure she is-“

“Woah! Slow down there, cowboy.” Nico laughed nervously. “We all want to find her. Just because she’s dating your friend and you want to keep your friend happy doesn’t mean you need to kill yourself to do so.”

“She’s right!” The Demon, that he now knew as Griffon, squawked. “If ya wanna kill yourself, do it much later! I’ll help!”

They all gave the bird a weird glance. It snickered in response and began to prune its feathers.

“Nico’s right. Chicken here isn’t so much.” Nero reached up and flicked the bird on the beak, bringing out an indignant squawk. “We know you care about Jeanne and we do care about her too.”

“Have you even told her?” Damien asked. Both Nero and Nico looked away awkwardly, causing him to frown. “Have you?”

V was the one to answer. “We decided not to ask for aid or inform any others of what happened here.”

“What!?” He yelled out. “Why?”

No one answered. V smirked and leaned against the wall of the van while folding his arms. Nico muttered an excuse and grabbed a cigarette whilst leaving the room. Nero just stood there, not meeting his eyes.

“Nero.” Damien slowly walked over to him and grabbed both of his shoulders. “Are you telling me that I have been missing for a month and you didn’t tell them?”

The man did not back down, to his credit. But he did make a strange, strangled sound that echoed through the van.

Damien really wanted to punch him. In all honesty he wanted to a lot more than punch someone or something and let out his frustration at this fucking ridiculous situation. Even when he ran away, he at least told everyone where he was going. Coming to his senses, he released Nero, grabbed the red and blue jacket strewn across the armchair and stormed outside.

The ruined city of Red Grave greeted him. Broken stone and mortar prickled into the soles of his feet, forcing a grimace out and over the fury. The Qliphoth Tree stood amongst the broken buildings in the background, looming and dominating everything. It had grown since he had last seen it- Damien shook his head. Of course, it had grown. He had been out of action for a month.

Telekinetically shoving a nearby piece of rubble underneath him, Damien took a seat and opened up the jacket and stared at it. From memory this was Nero’s old coat and completely unfit for him to wear.

Sighing with annoyance, he held his hand out and concentrated for a second. A flash of white light heralded the Sharuba and he stared at the katana for another second.

Don’t be an idiot, Damien. You want a nice slice, not a destroyed coat.

Huffing, he tossed it back into Inferno and choked back a sob. Covering his eyes with one hand, he leaned himself against his knee and tried to calm himself down.

Don’t panic. Everything will be fine.

“It wasn’t my idea, you know?” Nico tossed her cigarette and grounded into dust with one boot. She walked over and stood next to his rock. “Nero was dead-set on keeping himself alone for this. Yeah, he might go on about Dante calling him a ‘deadweight’ and all that, and it might be really fucking funny for some of us, but it really got to him.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything.” Damien muttered, lowering his hand. “I was a fucking horse-”

The gunsmith snorted.

“-and a servant of a Demonlord-to-be that defeated Dante without breaking a sweat. Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell Bayonetta, at the very least? She’s stronger than Dante and she would want to know that her brother is in trouble!”

Nico sighed and folded her arms, kicking at a loose piece of rubble. “You know how Nero is. He wants to prove, more than anything else, that he is an equal to Dante. Losing his arm to a person who just marched in and stole it? That hurt his pride more than anything. And then told by the man he looks up to the most, the one man he thinks of as his Daddy, that he is useless?”

The winged man grunted. Shaking his head, he glanced up to see her lower lip trembling. “He won’t ever admit it, you know? He’s scared and hurt, and nothing will make him admit it. He wants to prove that he’s not weak or scared, despite being an idiot and not getting any help for this.”

Damien sat there, letting the words sink in. He completely understood Nero’s position. Bayonetta’s opinion of him was something he valued highly, but not once had she ever implied or outright said he wasn’t ready for something. It was her that pushed for him to be the one to traverse the universes, despite his mental state not being ready to handle it. But if she were to turn around and tell him that he could not do something; that he was not ready or strong enough?

He would fight with all of his being to prove that he was strong enough.

At the same time, reason was beginning to break through his frustration. His body was beginning to readjust itself to its current conditioning and he felt weaker. A lethargic cloud was settling into his bones, like his being was either succumbing to fatigue or waking from it. That made sense, considering what had just happened about ten minutes ago, and he knew that he wasn’t going to recover any time soon.

Accepting his position for now, Damien turned to the woman and gave her a grave look. He had to know how Nero’s quest was progressing: “Is it really that bad?”

“Well, Nero and V are doing gardening pretty well. It’s not necessarily a lost cause, but…” Nico swallowed. “We haven’t gotten close to the big Boss Man yet.”

He changed the conversation before it got more awkward. “Did my phone survive? I want to give someone a heads up on what’s happening here.”

Nico chuckled and walked back to the van. “I’ll getcha a knife too while I’m at it. Your damn phone is indestructible, I swear.”

“Forget the knife.” Damien called after her and grabbed the jacket again. “I can use something better.”

A new item fell from Inferno; a simple silver staff with a blue, octahedral gemstone embedded at the head. Gripping the staff midway, Damien brought it down and tapped it on the red coat.

…

“I’m not certain of your full strength,” the sorceress turned and walked over to a small rack. “So I believe that you should start with a basic catalyst for the glintstone arts.”

Damien watched her pick up a small, wooden stick and she handed it to him. “This is what they taught me with at the academy. It should suit your training.”

He held the catalyst with a loose grip, letting it roll in his hand. “Uhhh… Sellen?”

“What is it, pupil?”

“How do I use this?”

The sorceress tilted her expressionless head. “How do you manifest your sorcery?”

“I don’t know… I just cast spells. I have a mentor from my home that simply tells me spells and I cast them.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t exactly know how or if there’s anything special that I do.”

“Hmm…” Sellen walked over and placed a hand on her chin, giving him an observant ponder. “It seems you are attuned to the flow of sorcery a lot differently than I am. That should not matter; the way we communicate with the Primeval Current will not change regardless of our manifest.”

She reached out and lifted his arm holding the catalyst. “Your will determines your connection. To begin this lesson, focus on the Current. Let it flow within you, through you, and pinpoint what you want it to do.”

Damien nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“But, pupil, you must not fight the Current. Just accept the flow and focus it into what you desire it to do so.” She warned. “That is your goal when channeling the art of glintstone.”

…

A small, translucent blue blade appeared at the end of Damien’s staff, softly illuminating both himself and the coat in his hand. Giving it a smile, he pulled the staff back until his hand was practically holding it by the crystal and then reversed his grip on it. Twirling the jacket around, he sliced an insert besides the left shoulder. The coat instantly slackened and opened up the new hole, spilling various layers out like a cascade of lollies from a pinata. Frowning to himself, he desummoned the staff and concentrated on his now-free fist.

Fire burned through his fingers, but did not appear on them. Keeping the coat afloat with telekinesis Damien gripped the cloth and began to melt each layer into each other. The acridid smell of burning plastic and wool filled the air, but he soldiered through.

After a few seconds, he released the coat and caught it with his rapidly cooling hands. Satisfied with the slot for his wing, he turned around to see Nico walking back with a t-shirt in one hand and a black phone in her other.

“So ya didn’t need a knife after all that…” She tossed the shirt at him and he caught it with a frown. “Good thing I didn’t bother with one.”

“I did say I didn’t need one.” He tossed the shirt back. “That won’t fit.”

“Huh… Well, that’s the largest shirt we had. Everything else is a little more… feminine. And way too small.” She failed the catch and the shirt flopped to the ground. “I’ll let you talk and I’ll fetch you some shoes. Think Nero has a spare pair somewhere.”

Damien turned his phone on and a gradual smile spread across his face. The enchantment that he had placed upon it was still working; the battery level had not changed in five months.

A few messages greeted him, but they were mostly reminders from his sister about the upcoming, well, ongoing Christmas get-together. He answered one with a small message to let her know he was okay and was working on getting back as soon as possible. Quickly opening the contacts and dialing Jeanne’s number, he held the phone up to his ear and listened to it dial.

“Good day, you have tried to reach Jeanne De’arc. I am currently unavailable, but if you want to you can leave a message after the tone or call me back after 6PM EST. Thank you for your patience.”

The tone played and Damien cancelled the call. He checked the date with a deeper frown.

Twenty-fifth of December. Christmas day.

There was absolutely no reason he could think of as to why Jeanne wouldn’t be near her phone. School had finished up a week ago, if he remembered correctly, and there was a plan for them all to get together for a celebration. If anything, she would be on her phone, waiting for some acknowledgement from Trish or himself.

Their relationship was strained, at least from his point of view. But he didn’t think it was strained to the point where she would ‘ghost’ him, so to speak. He rang her twice more, each going straight to the voicemail. Damien stared at the screen with unease.

“Here ya go. I guess your new wardrobe is our Christmas present for ya.” A pair of plain, black boots were shoved into his face. “But they should fit. Along with these socks.”

Letting the phone float in the air along with the coat, Damien began to systematically place on the footwear until his lower body was covered completely. Gabbing the coat, he slipped his wing through the new hole and then his arms through the sleeves. An appreciative whistle rippled through the air and he turned to see Nico nodding.

“Those never really suited Nero anyway. Red is more Dante’s thing and black is a much better colour.”

“They suit me better?” Damien asked.

“Hell no. The colours yes, but you kinda look like a boy trying on adult clothing. You’re definitely not as wide as Nero.” Nico smirked, brushing a bang out of her eyes. “But some people do like their partners lithe. Whaddya call them nowadays? Twinks? Nah, yer not a twink.”

He didn’t bother responding to her and glanced over her shoulder to see Nero walking out of the van, an annoyed expression on his face. It lightened up the second his eyes found him and the man snorted: “You look ridiculous.”

The winged man ‘humphed’ and tightened his lips. “Not my fault. Besides, these are your clothes, not mine.”

“My clothes suited me. They look like a giant bag on you.”

Damien just shook his head. “We can’t all be winners. Is everything alright back in there?”

 “I like the guy, but V can be a little frustrating.” Nero sighed. “He’s fixated on you, for some reason.”

“Me?”

Nico stepped back over with a glance at the hunter. “What’s emo boy up to now?”

“Goldstein, ‘Emo Boy’ is trying to design the next step of our plan.” The aforementioned man walked through the door, Griffon flying out to land on his outstretched left arm. Nico gulped and turned away, hiding her embarrassment by fiddling with another cigarette. “Luegray; are you ready to fight?”

“V, I already told you. He’s not ready.” Nero rebutted, answering before Damien had a chance. “Lady is still out of action and we found Damien literally three hours ago. Yes, he’s recovering a lot better, but it’s still way too early to know whether or not he’s fine or close to ready. I ain’t risking it.”

“Are you saying this because you believe it?” V’s eyes trailed from Nero to him, full of mirth and mischief. “Or because you still believe that you need to finish Dante’s journey?”

The group went silent. The only sounds that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the clicks of Nico’s lighter.

“V, I told you not to-”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Damien interjected. “If I have to sit on the sidelines for a little longer, that’s fine with me. What Nero believes doesn’t really matter because I might not be ready yet.”

“Do ya feel ready?” Nico took a drag and held the cigarette with two fingers.

Damien hesitated. His body didn’t feel out of the ordinary, but he wasn’t an idiot. He hoped. Bayonetta had chastised him once for rushing headlong into problems and he knew that it was very much up in the air whether or not his body was actually fine. He could almost hear her voice when he considered saying that he was ready;

“In your state? Darling, please. The only person how will be doing any saving is me when I inevitably clean up your mess again.”

“As much as I want to say yes,” he shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t do anything until we know for one hundred percent that I am fine. It’s just too risky.”

Nico tilted her head with an impressed expression. “Not what I thought you were gonna say, but I agree.”

“See?” Nero gestured to V. “No Damien. We gotta plan without him.”

The man slowly looked at Griffon, who performed a shrug-like maneuverer. “Well, V? We tried. Looks like it’s just the two of us, and not the abomina-”

Rage clouded his vision and Damien found himself being restrained by Nero. The two men grappled for a few seconds until he calmed down considerably. “Tell that fucking bird to watch its mouth!”

“Well, he’s right. I can watch my mouth. And I can do it too!” Griffon’s eyes crossed to settle on its beak. “Such a great looking mouth too, right V?”

“Please, don’t antagonise our allies.” The man irritably tapped the beak lightly with his cane.

“Hey! Well, you’re right here. We do still need them.” The bird jumped up and began to circle around the area, gliding on sleek wings of navy blue. Its head snapped around and it landed on a nearby piece of rubble, settling into a puzzled position. “Uhh, V? Are we expecting anyone else to come?”

V tilted his head, then looked up. “Someone is coming.”

Damien heard it before he saw it; the roar of a motor and the whir of blades cutting through the air. He turned and followed V’s lead to gaze up at the sky. From behind him a string of curses was almost drowned out by the increasing volume of the arriving machinery.

“Fucking bullshit motherfuckering idiots!” Nero hissed. “I told them not to come back!”

A black helicopter flew into view, weaving between the buildings. It barrelled towards them and pulled itself into a landing position with reckless ease, bringing out a roll of Damien’s eyes.

Nero was right; these people were idiots through and through.

They’ve been here before?

Nero jumped and then let out a huge sigh of frustration. ‘Fucking hell, give me some warning before doing that!’

Apologies. But my question still stands.

‘It’s that agent friend of yours. She started trying to get here a week ago and it's almost a daily occurrence. Guess we can finally give her what she wants.’

What does she want?

‘You’ll see.’

The helicopter landed and the door burst open. Several men clad in black armour filed out and began to secure the area, checking and clearing each step they took. Nero sighed again and folded his arms.

“They do this every fucking time they get here. Same old checks, nothing changes.”

“It’s protocol for them.” Damien had seen this before. It was when they were all leading an infiltration of Umbrella Corporation’s main headquarters, about two months ago. “And if she’s involved, she’s definitely following protocol. Guaranteed.”

A slim woman stepped out of the helicopter. Her normal red cocktail dress was encased in a beige coat that stretched down from her neck to her knees. Her legs were encased in black, see-through leggings and her shoes were still black heels. Damien wanted to shake his head, but both Jeanne and Bayonetta practically lived in their heels. It would be very hypocritical of him to call her out on that.

She stopped about ten metres from the group. Her eyes were covered by large sunglasses and hid her gaze, but it was obvious from where her head turned who was being scrutinized by her.

Damien decided to make the first move. “Ada.”

“Where did you find him?” She ignored his greeting and addressed Nero instead. “Or have you been hiding him this whole time?”

“We found him three hours ago. And considering you never really tell anyone how to contact you, how were we?” Nero pushed past him and stared down the agent.

Ada briefly smiled, but returned to her stoney face. “If I recall, Nero, your last words to me were ‘fuck off and stop trying to kill yourself.’ I am here to find Luegray and you have procured him. Now you can ‘fuck off and start trying to kill yourself’, if you would so please.”

Nero spluttered and Damien dragged him back before anything could occur. He replaced the young hunter’s position and tried to match Ada’s demeanour. “Okay, if it’s me you are looking for, I’m here. What do you want?”

“You look terrible.” She commented before turning around. “We need to go back, now.”

Three seconds passed as each member of Devil May Cry and Damien absorbed this knowledge. Then it exploded into an uproar.

“Woah, wait! He’s not finished here yet!” Nico started. “I mean, I would go with you but we have a Demon to kill! And a hot girl in distress to save!”

“You can’t make demands like that!” Nero continued, waving his hand and fork into the air. “He’s not ready to do a whole lot; he’s still in recovery!”

“Recovery from what?” Ada reached up with a gloved hand and pulled her sunglasses off to reveal narrowed eyes. “Where has Luegray been?”

“He was captured by our Urizen and recreated into an image of the Geryon.” V quietly said in the background. Ada turned to him and marched over, her eyes tracing him up and down. Analysing. Learning.

“What are you talking about?”

V smirked and Damien was glad for once it wasn’t directed at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“What our friend is talking about, Ada,” Nero loudly stated. “Is that Damien was turned into a horse for a month. We only just got him out and we don’t know if there are lasting effects.”

The agent very slowly turned around and stared a hole through him. “Is this true, Luegray?”

“Yes.”

Ada’s lips twitched. Damien felt his heart sink when he realised that she was finding this funny.

“And I thought you were supposed to be the strongest person in the arcane arts.”  She walked back over to him and folded her arms. “Apparently there exists beings stronger than you.”

Damien didn’t answer, not taking the obvious bait. Ada took the opportunity and gestured her hand at him. “We need to go. Your friends here can handle this situation-”

“Why do we need to go? What is going on?” He asked, his confusion bleeding into anger. “Ada-”

“New York was attacked. Jeanne died.”

Time seemed to slow down. Damien laughed nervously, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. I think I just mis-heard you.”

Ada’s eyes softened. “My condolences, Damien. But a week ago several Angels attacked New York while both of your Umbra friends were out and about. She perished in the ensuing skirmish.”

Hot tears burned at his eyes and he tried to blink them away. Shaking his head, he took in a long, deep breath. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I come out all this way to lie? I thought you knew me better than that.” The agent folded her arms and seemed to be waiting for something. The statement itself wasn’t accusatory, like he expected. If anything, it was just simple and to the point. “I don't know what else to say.”

Damien was struggling to breathe. He stumbled away from the woman, wrapping his arms around himself, then his wing followed.

She couldn’t be dead.

Jeanne was the paragon of the Umbra! No Angel could come close to killing her, regardless of how powerful or strong it was. She was the strongest Umbra! She was-

He whipped out his phone and redialled her number once again. Each ring was agonising and he begged for her to pick up. She wasn’t dead.

“Good day, you have-”

Damien instantly changed to dialling Bayonetta. Her tone drummed through his ears, grating and pulling him into a despairing state.

“Is it working? Cheshire, these mortal devices are far too complex and technical for my liking. Oh! It is! Well, you have tried to reach me and guess what! I’m not on the phone. So fuck yo- I can say what I want, Cheshire! Who is going to get offended?”

Ripping the phone away from his ear, Damien turned to the members of Devil May Cry and hoped they were laughing along at some elaborately cruel prank that was being played out.

Nero was lowering his own personal phone from his ear, his face as pale as a sheet of paper. He shared a grave look with the others, then slowly turned back to face him. The hunter swallowed and couldn’t meet his eyes. “I just got a call from Kyrie… Damien… She’s…”

“No…” He was crying. “No… Please…”

Nico wordlessly walked up to him, tossing her cigarette before she got too close. Slipping her arms around him, she pulled him close and began to pat his back. She stunk of cigarettes, grease and metal, but he couldn’t help but cling to her like a lifeline.

Well, right now she was his lifeline.

A subdued sob escaped him before he could stop it. “I…”

“Don’t say a thing. Ain’t your fault.”

“The woman is correct.” Ada quietly spoke up. “You were missing for three weeks before this incident occurred. There was nothing you could have done, especially given the suddenness of the attack. As far as we know, everything supernatural has been quiet for three straight months, correct?”

The words nearly went through his mind and out the other side, but Damien nodded. There had been nothing ever since Madama Khepri disappeared; no Demons, no Angels, nothing.

“I got in touch with Redgrave once the city was in a relatively calm state. He reported the same as you and what we have been observing; however, he could not tell us the whereabouts of Bayonetta.”

His heart froze over and he could feel himself begin to shake. “No, no, no-”

“We don’t believe she is dead.”

“How do you know?” Damien gasped out, his throat tightening with every word.

“We saw Jeanne’s body being extracted by Rodin. There was no sign of your sister and Redgrave theorised later that she was dealing with her grief in her own way.” She explained, keeping each sentence concise and to the point. “We have reason to believe that the two have reconciled.”

“What makes you think that?” Nero stared at the agent with suspicion, colour returning to his cheeks.

“He’s stopped talking to us. The only reason we had contact was in our conjoined search for Bayonetta.” Ada gave him a long stare in return. “Ergo, he found her.”

“What do you want me for?”

The Agent then turned back to him, her expression completely neutral. “If they’ve found each other, they’re plotting revenge. You should be with them.”

Revenge was an option. Damien did like the sound of that. The problem with this ‘solution’ was that his revenge was very much ‘walk into Paradiso and murder everything’ and not actually productive towards actually getting vengeance for Jeanne. Especially if both Luka and Bayonetta were planning out something.

Sometimes he hated how reckless and impulsive he was. But in this moment, recklessness and impulsiveness felt good; it was very much paramount that he wasn’t allowed to act on these impulses or he could ruin anything his friends had designed.

Detaching Nico from him, Damien slowly walked over to Nero. “Look… I’m so-”

“There’s no need to apologise.” He shook his head and rested one hand on the winged man’s shoulder. “If you need to go, you should. We’re in good hands here and you’re obviously needed elsewhere.”

“I don’t want to leave with the job half done.” He argued, looking away in shame. “Dante would-”

“Dante would want you to go,” V waved his arm out wide and Griffon swooped into a landing. “To bring both honour to your friend’s memory and vengeance upon her name.”

“Goth man is right.” Nico’s voice was a little emotional, but she still smirked with confidence and flicked her hair back with one hand. “We got this and you need to help your friends. And family.”

Damien looked between the three people, not trusting his emotions to speak. Some movement at the van caught his eye and he focussed his attention on Lady, who was now peeking out of the open door.

He could see her red eyes and tear-stained face as clear as day. She nodded once, reached up with one hand and wiped her cheek. The gunslinger then disappeared back inside with a rush. Damien did not blame her; Lady did not like showing emotions and that was the most she would be willing to reveal.

“We don’t have much time, Luegray.” Ada’s voice spoke up from behind. “We have to go. Now.”

A shaky exhale heralded his next words. “Thank you all. For rescuing me.”

“S’okay. You would’ve done the same.” Nero smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Now you should get going before spy lady here really gets pissed.”

Turning around, Damien found Ada standing there with her arms crossed. Her normally sharp eyes were very soft by the normal comparison. She stiffened when he returned it with what he assumed was a normal look and the agent nodded once.

“I’ll take you back to Redgrave, directly. The people of New York don’t exactly have the highest opinion of you from the latest events, so it would be best to avoid them if possible.”

He swallowed and returned her nod. “It’s not like they had the highest opinion in the first place, but understood.”

Walking towards the helicopter, Damien spared one last glance back towards the Devil May Cry crew and his heart tore in two. He knew he should stay behind. He had to rescue Trish and Dante and save the rest of Red Grave city-

Jeanne was now dead. The statement now hit him harder than it had when he was told it. A strange hollow feeling spread from his stomach and each breath he took was becoming more erratic. Panicked. Desperate.

“Luegray?” Ada lightly touched his forearm.

Damien closed his eyes and nodded, trying to calm himself. He couldn’t break. Not yet. “I’m okay. I’m going to be okay.”

Khepri, please… I need you.

As it had been for the last three months, she did not reply. Despite being around so many people…

He had never felt so alone.

My First Journal!

Enemy Data:

No updates… :(

Jukebox

No updates… :(

Character Data

Nicoletta Goldstein

So… How do I describe Nico? Aunty J thinks she’s a crass woman with no class, Uncle D thinks she’s quite friendly (and he always makes those two finger closing motions with his hands that I’m still not really sure of) and Mummy says she’s a riot? Whatever that means.

Either way, she’s Nero’s self-professed best friend and our go-to human smith for all things Demonic and not. Dante had a few weapons made by her, Aunty J and Mummy go to her for jobs when Rodin is empty and sometimes I think Uncle D goes to her to hang out or something? My other Aunty J is fine with it and Nico is the thirstiest lesbian I’ve ever laid my eyes on, so it can’t be that problematic.

Daddy does warn me that she is a bad influence. I don’t see it; we are really kinda similar, if you think about it. But she does have a few bad habits, like smoking and not really turning off her constant horniness (I carry around a wooden bat specifically for this LOL) and I do try to avoid her when she’s all in on those modes. But again, she’s cool! Like one of the cool cousins I’ve read about in Daddy’s stories. So I don’t think she’s a bad influence at all.

First appearance: Devil May Cry 5 (2019)

Theme: Any Special Orders? (Devil May Cry 5)

Ada Wong (?)

Ada is a weird woman, but hey! That’s what we all like about her. She’s one of the top agents at STARS (Supernatural Threats and Activity Regulators Subdivision – I really think they made up the name before the acronym lmao) and she’s either helping us or working to help us. Her first case that involved us was when Aunty J discovered someone replicating Sigurd’s experiments in creating Homunculi. Ada too was investigating and the pair decided to team up to solve the case; they were more than successful and stopped any more Homunculi from ever being created (for now DUN DUN DUHHHHH). According to Aunty J, the beings described by Sigurd and the minorly more successful variants that were created were both nothing like the real things.

I have her name in brackets because none of us really know whether or not that’s her name. Daddy thinks it’s a codename, but Uncle D isn’t so sure. She pops in every now and then to keep tabs on us; I think she’s just lonely and uses it as an excuse to hang out with people who aren’t a part of STARS or government officials.

She’ll never admit that though. Her pride is somehow greater than Mummy’s, especially when it involves people she’s trying to make an impression on. Again, she’s a weird lady, but a fun one.

First appearance: Resident Evil 2 (1998)

Theme: Ada’s Theme (Resident Evil 4)

V/Vergil/Urizen

Oh boy… This one is a little complicated. At one point before this all went down, a half-demon named Vergil (Who is the brother of Dante) decided that the best course of action was to stab himself with his own sword to sever his soul into two halves. V and Urizen, a human and Demon respectively, were created from this. Urizen caused a disaster that consumed an entire city. V tried to stop him, but according to everyone he was a giant asshole about it.

Anyway, I never met two of these three and honestly I don’t think I would ever have wanted to. Vergil is a giant asshole and I do kinda wish I had never met him.

First appearance: Devil May Cry (2001)

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: A Helping Hand

…

The flight back to New York was the most silent and awkward trip Damien had ever been on. And that was including the van trip to Conveniencia which involved three people sitting in silence, being completely unsure of what to do or how to act.

Ada was uncharacteristically nervous. Even though she was the public face of STARS and the only person on the team he actually trusted, the woman had no idea how to deal with people. He didn’t really blame her for that; Damien wasn’t too sure how to even approach telling someone that their closest friend had died while they were incapacitated from being transformed into a horse for a month. Or even how to follow up from that. She wasn’t exactly empathetic towards others to begin with and, in a situation like this, he didn’t fault her for not wanting to follow up. He suspected that she didn’t know how to.

There had been absolutely no small talk between either himself, Ada or her team. She spent her time on her phone, quietly speaking with either her director or one of her fellow agents, reporting his current whereabouts and the situation at hand. He thought she was doing it all out of necessity, but the longer she continued to ‘report’ the more he felt that she was trying to distract herself.

The ultimate question, of course, was from what. As far as he knew, Ada was a distant person and only really interacted with their group if it was absolutely necessary. But Damien also supposed that the agent wasn’t very forthcoming with practically anything, so who knew what was truly going on in that mind of hers.

As for himself, Damien had spent the entire trip half listening to Ada in an effort to keep his mind busy. The other half was spent trying to figure out how the hell he was going to approach either Luka or Bayonetta without turning into a wreck. Did he know the answer to that?

Of course not.

The latest conversation Ada had with her phone had ended with her becoming frustrated with the person at the other end. Despite the obvious negative for her, it had granted him a small amount of insight as to truly what was going on behind that guarded expression. It seemed that she had been acting on her own volition, to the point where she had flat-out disobeyed orders to keep clear of the city. Other small snippets all lead to the same conclusion; everyone was annoyed with her.

So, business as usual. Trying to keep his thoughts away from all the recent revelations, Damien decided to fully listen in on her next and presumably final check-in.

“Ada here. Big Bird has been recovered and extracted from Red Grave City.” She said neutrally into her phone, her eyes heavy and posture weary. Damien had almost forgotten his codename that STARS had assigned to him and he only just remembered just how much he disliked it.

“Congratulations.” A dry voice mocked in return. “It only took you a week and a massive waste of our resources.”

The agent was silent for a very pregnant pause. “I wasn’t leaving him to die. You know that he, at the very minimum-”

“Is a very useful asset? He wasn’t even the one to deal with the threat that Armstrong possessed. He’s never done anything to aid us besides from being the very distant plan three. How useful is he really?”

“He’s the only one left for us to contact. And this situation pertains directly to him.” Ada argued, the weariness in her tone slowly fading away. “Of all the people we could get into contact with, Damien is the most suitable.”

The man on the phone sighed. “If that is what you believe, Wong. Where was he?”

“In the city, just as we expected. In hindsight, it was lucky of us to find him so early into our search. As per my report he was incapacitated for a month, along with three of the members of Devil May Cry. The remaining members have been trying to save who they can and have been more direct in stopping the spread of the tree. We should have been more vigilant of what was occurring in this city.” Her tone became curt and filled with annoyance. Damien figured this was something the pair were currently disagreeing on. “I told you we needed more eyes-”

“For what? I told you we should’ve nuked the city like we did to Racoon. Letting the Devil Hunters operate for as long as they have, with no real hope for those trapped inside, was and still is the incorrect choice in halting this Demonic invasion.”

Ada’s fist tightened and she took a second to respond. “The Devil Hunters are saving whoever they can. At least three dozen people have been rescued, with hopes for a dozen more.”

That’s what they had all been up to. Damien felt a surge of pride and hope flow through him at that little tidbit of information; it was their responsibility to help those in need, regardless of whom and who they were.

“Don’t be so naïve, Wong. The death toll is estimated at three million; what is thirty-six odd people going to do to change that? The city is lost.”

Her knuckles started to turn white and he touched her shoulder. Ada calmed slightly from the small spell he cast and she gave him an appreciative look. It fell once she returned to the phone: “Everyone we get out is someone spared a death they did not deserve. I’m not being naïve, Krauser; I’m doing my job. Our job!”

“Hmph. I signed into STARS to protect the world from threats, not save those in the firing line. That’s your problem, Wong. You care too much about the small details.” An exasperated sigh was then heard from the phone. “Even if you manage to extract the remaining citizens, if there are any left, you still need to deal with the giant tree that is spewing all sorts of threats from the Underworld out. What are you going to do? Talk to it? In this situation there is no reason to go after the little man; focus on the big picture!”

“I am focussing on that!” She snapped. “Nero believes he can deal with it himself and I want to believe that he can!”

“I don’t trust the whelp. Well, I do trust him to try. I don’t trust him to succeed. He’s no Dante.”

“I’m…” Ada hesitated, looked up and met his eyes. She instantly looked away with a guilty look. “I agree with that. I don’t know if he can succeed. But I have to believe in something. What this is… it’s well out of our knowledge and experience. Besides Temen-Ni-Gru, there’s been nothing on the scale of this. Dante was the one to reseal away the Tower of Babel; Nero has to have the same potential as well.”

His hope and optimism began to die down. Damien knew that Nero was strong and a skilled Devil Hunter in his own right, but even he logically had to admit that he was completely out of his element. If it had taken him nearly a month to penetrate that far into the city and still be so far from the base of the Qliphoth…

“How is Big Bird anyway? If he was incapacitated for a month then he should be in terrible shape.”

Ada shot him a glance and shrugged. “He’s breathing and moving. A lot more than we can ask for and in much better shape than Arkham. She’s currently still bedbound.”

He was extremely confused about who they were talking about until he remembered that Lady’s official name was and still is Mary-Ann Arkham. No one had actually bother to change it in the twenty or so years she had been going by Lady.

“Really? What does he look like?”

“To be completely honest, it looks like someone dug him out of a grave and put a wig on him.”

Ouch. Damien did admit that the descriptor did fit his current state of being, but that was unnecessarily harsh.

Krauser agreed with an amused snort. “That bad, huh? What about his mental state?”

Ada shot him a second glance and hesitated slightly. “He’s good enough.”

“For whatever you have planned, it’ll have to do. I’ll be waiting for your arrival. Krauser out.”

The phone was shut with a few taps to the screen and Ada buried her face in her hands. She looked up about a minute later, her face neutral and completely composed. “Luegray, do you think you are alright? Mentally?”

Damien wanted to laugh at that question, but that would definitely not have been appropriate for the situation. Was he alright? How could he be alright!? Jeanne was-

He took the time to calm himself down. There was no real use in actually showing how high-strung he actually was.

So was he actually okay? No. The answer was definitely a solid no.

Well, he was trying not to be a wreck. Jeanne was on his mind constantly and he felt as if he had failed her. She had trained him to be a better warrior, a better fighter, a better tactician, and all it had ended up accounting for was him instantly failing at the first major obstacle and her death. If he was present, if he wasn’t such a fucking failure-

Damien fiddled with his hands, trying to work some of the tension in him before it exploded out. He stared at them and tried very hard to keep himself calm. “I’ll be fine.”

The STARS agent gave him a flat look. “I highly doubt everything you’ve been through in the last hour has left you fine.”

“I’ll be fine.” I’ll be okay. Please stop asking.

To his dismay, he did not get his wish. But to her credit, Ada changed the subject with a faint grimace in her tone. “We’re nearly there.”

He looked up and saw the skyrise of the city approaching fast. Something was off about it, although, and what that was became far more apparent the closer they got.

Most of the buildings were partially destroyed. Cranes and scaffolding had been erected around the minorly damaged ones and their reconstruction was well under way. Pressing his face up against the window, Damien shuddered at just how little of the city was normal.

“Was it-”

“It would’ve been much worse if Cereza and Jeanne weren’t here.” Ada admonished. “Without them, the city would’ve been levelled.”

He didn’t mention that if they weren’t there to begin with, the city wouldn’t have been attacked in the first place.

“We’ll touch down at STARS in about five minutes. I’ll contact Redgrave when you are ready to meet him.” She continued, obviously not certain on how to react to his lack of a response. “Mostly because I don’t exactly know how he’s faring in all of this and the citizens will definitely not take lightly to your apparent random return.”

That he agreed with. But at the same time, he could see Jeanne’s apartment building beneath him and he needed to know. He wanted to make sure of her words and that-

She had to be alive.

“I’m sorry, Ada.” He pulled back from the glass and turned to the agent with an apologetic shake of his head. “I have to go.”

The sunglasses were ripped off and her eyes were almost comically wide. “I’m sorry; what!?”

Summoning whatever was left of his power, Damien closed his eyes and teleported into his bedroom. The world behind his eyelids began to spin rapidly and he collapsed, holding his head tightly.

Maybe he wasn’t as strong in this weakened state as he believed himself to be.

Eventually it began to slow down and Damien trusted himself not to immediately throw up when he finally opened his eyes. Slowly and surely, he finally managed to and found himself lying in a thin layer of dust. Wiping what he could see away, he pulled himself up to his knees and surveyed the area.

His bedroom wasn’t exactly as fancy as many of the others that he had seen, but what he had, he cherished. A small television sat in the corner of the room on top of a chest of drawers, connected to a videogame console. Beside that were a dozen pictures that took up almost every inch of the walls; one with each member of his strange family that was his friends. The photo that always drew his attention was the group one, when the Witches, Luka, and himself went to the beach. Bayonetta’s wild smirk and Luka’s terrified smile always made him laugh, whereas his own and Jeanne’s polite, yet uncomfortable grins always reminded him of just how-

Damien shook his head. That was definitely not important now.

Using his bed to stand back up, he opened the door that led out to the hallway. Everything was still covered in that thin layer of dust and he let his fingers drag along the wall, leaving behind long streaks of clear, grey paint. He found the light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened and Damien grunted with annoyance; evidently the power had not yet been restored to this building.

Clicking his fingers and casting a small candlelight spell to illuminate his way forward, he walked out and into the deathly silent main room.

“Jeanne?” He whispered, afraid of interrupting the tranquillity. This was his last chance for this all to be one cruel joke. His head believed that she would walk out soon, a teasing smirk upon her lips, and proclaim him the biggest fool in America; how could a measly Angel kill the pride of the Umbra?

But his heart knew it wasn’t. Jeanne wouldn’t stand for this level of untidiness in the apartment, even as part of joke. Hell, she wouldn’t even be part of the joke, especially if it meant going against her own personal rules and morals. Both herself and Bayonetta had already experienced enough loss that faking a death wouldn’t even be on the fringe edges of either’s joke radar.

He moved as quickly as he could to her bedroom and hesitated at the doorknob. It didn’t feel right to barge in like this, but at the same time some feeling was driving him to go inside. Not for the first time, Damien wished Khepri was here to give him some advice.

Khepri? Madama? He tried. Silence echoed through his empty mind.

The winged man was very tempted to ask Asura and Benevolence, but both of his resident Demon and Angel had been very sparse with their appearances before the whole Qliploth incident. Unlike Khepri, who had disappeared completely, the pair were either in pain or were losing their connection to his psyche. He didn’t expect that to change any time soon and he also had no idea where to start to fix it.

Swallowing down any remaining fears, Damien steeled his resolve, twisted the doorknob and gently opened the door…

Nothing met him but the cruel disappointment of hope.

Jeanne’s bedroom was completely spartan in its layout. The only pieces of furniture were a closet wardrobe and a bed that sat and the wall of the room, opposite to the door. The walls were painted in a rough black, hiding the original red coloration. They were also barren, and honestly, Damien felt as if he had walked into a prison cell.

And to think she forced me to personalise my room, he frowned. Yet she was never comfortable in her own.

Maybe Jeanne wasn’t ever as mentally well as he had thought.

The bed itself was neatly made up with a thicker layer of dust, as if it hadn’t been used in a few months. He could attest to that; there had been many a morning where he found Jeanne awkwardly sleeping on the couch with several open books and other school papers left haphazardly everywhere. The only way she ever got any sleep in her own bed was if he carried her there on a particularly bad night, or if Trish was over.

Considering neither had happened in a month, this wasn’t particularly surprising.

A small package lay upon the bed and his eyes were instantly drawn to it. It was not covered in the same volume of dust as the rest of the room, and he reached out to grab it. Bringing it closer, his eyes widened when he read the label on the envelope attached.

It was addressed to him. Slipping the card out, Damien began to read:

Damien,

I know that I haven’t exactly been very forthcoming with my feelings, or anything else regarding us, but I feel the best way for me to communicate without physically leaving the conversation is to write this letter. My therapist believes we need to sort this before we have any more fractures in our relationship. So do I, but I don’t trust myself to be able to have and keep that conversation with you. If I have this in writing and hand-deliver it to you, I cannot run from what needs to be done and hope it all simply passes by. This time it won’t and I know as best as you do that neither of us can do this. So here goes nothing.

That night, when we had our fight, I felt that all that I really had left in my life were people who only pitied me. My clan and family were all gone. My only hope and lifeline, my former love for Cereza, was nullified and made pointless. Balder had taken everything from me to the point where I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. All everyone talked about in regards to me was how sorry they were and of their condolences for my situation. Cereza, Luka and yourself didn’t and, while I do appreciate that, you were all still treading on eggshells, like you were all afraid of breaking me. I guess you were all right in the end, but I just wanted to not be treated like a porcelain doll for once in my life.

As you know, I used whatever I could as a mechanism to control my own identity, even if it was self-destructive. Being able to simply forget and move on, even if it was for mere minutes at a time, helped me in the short term, but not in the long. When you confronted me with what I was doing to myself, I did not want to face reality. I lashed out and I fear I drove an irreparable wedge between us.

For what I said to you on that night, I’m truly horrified at my words and wish nothing more than to take them back. I realised far too late that your hurt is every part as valid as mine. Yes, my scars have lasted for longer and most of my experiences will die with me, but your own are still something I should know better than to nullify over nothing because you cared. I deeply apologise for this and everything I said. You didn’t deserve it.

As you know, the turning point for all of this is that accursed persona Redgrave decided to saddle me with. ‘Cutie J’ may be a ridiculous name, but to simply put on a mask and become another person helped me believe in myself, slowly and surely. And once my perspective wasn’t masked by a cloud of intoxicants and alcohol, I knew what I had to do to finally help myself and move past the past. You helped, Cereza helped, Trish helped; I believe it is way due time to repay you all for this.

Miss Atyrell believes that the best way to move past this pain and begin the healing process is to start anew with a goal that determines my new purpose. As you saw on your last day here, I changed my appearance to better reflect who I want to see myself as. I also believe that I want to reclaim my former position as the Umbran Elder. A purpose we both determined would be suitable for this would be to reform the Umbra Witches clan. Not the clan of old, but a new and more welcoming coven. I can sense latent power in this world; it almost seems like a waste of my teaching abilities to let this all go to waste.

Your gift reflects this. You might not be an Umbra Witch by right or training, but your prowess makes you more than deserving of at least the ‘Acolyte’ title. Please, as way of apology, I would like to extend an offer to you to be by my side and teach the new generation of Umbra, along with Cereza.

I’m sorry for what I have done. I miss what we were before I ruined everything.

Jeanne De’Arc

He was crying. Reflexively, Damien reached up and wiped the tears away. He didn’t realise more simply replaced them, and only did once they dripped down and stained the paper. Gingerly replacing the card, he held and cradled his Christmas present with one hand, completely unsure whether or not he should open it.

Jeanne wanted him to become an Umbra Witch. Luka had once commented that male Umbra weren’t impossible, but had no evidence to their existence; if an actual Witch thought he could become one, then the evidence was clearly with the statement. Whatever would help him take this step was contained inside the wrappings-

Luka! Luka could help!

Damien instantly spread his awareness out and found the man inside his own apartment. His decision was then solidified and he teleported to Luka’s living room.

The room spun again and he fell over, exhaustion seeping into every pore of his body. Each breath was becoming more painful and laboured, all belaying the same message:

You aren’t ready. Stop before you permanently injure yourself.

Groaning softly, Damien closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop rotating around him. The sounds of deliberate footsteps echoed through his mind, each one sending sharp pains into his head. A migraine was beginning to form and he was beginning to regret not resting for longer at his own room.

“What the hell- Damien!?”

The footsteps became louder and faster as Luka presumably sprinted to him. A skidding noise caused him to flinch, and a thump drew out a groan of pain.

“What happened to you!? Kyrie said you were fine!” Luka was so loud. A pair of hands began patting and prodding him, each one recoiling at something on his body. “Jesus, that’s a lot of sweat. Talk to me Damien!”

“Jeanne…” Damien forced his eyes open and found Luka’s own staring back in panicked concern. “She’s dead!”

The man almost rolled his eyes, but he settled for an explosive sigh that conveyed a lot of disappointment. “You reappear after being missing for a month, looking like absolute shit and the first thing you are concerned about is Jeanne!?”

Damien didn’t answer that.

“Well, you’re just like your goddamn sister. Worrying about everyone else even though you look like death incarnate.” Luka continued. “Look, Jeanne will be-”

“She’s dead!” He wailed, repeating himself. The journalist let out a huff and chuckled.

“Well, you’ve got one hell of a story to listen to, then.”

…

“She’s not dead!?”

After propping him up onto the couch, Luka had started to explain just what happened in his month-long absence. Life had gone on without him and it had only been just over a week ago before they had started becoming worried. Then the city was attacked by the reappearing Angels and they turned their attention to repelling the invasion. Once the Angels had been routed, Gomorrah had betrayed his mistress and killed Jeanne. All efforts to find him had been put on hold for a while and the journalist then stated he regretted not trying earlier.

Damien had completely understood that. Jeanne was far more important to Bayonetta than he was. Hell, he agreed that she was far more important than he was, but that was neither here or there.

A week had passed while his sister had mourned and Luka had struggled to get into contact with anyone who could possibly help. Bayonetta reappeared after he had ‘confirmation’ that he was fine from Nero’s significant other (something he was going to have to confront Kyrie with at some point), leading to Rodin appearing to reveal that Jeanne was able to be rescued and restored.

There was also another detail of Rodin revealing he was a Primordius, but that was lost on Damien in the wake that his formerly deceased friend now not being that.

“Well, she is dead.” Luka explained, walking from the kitchen with a pair of mugs in his hands. He handed one to him and Damien gratefully accepted the tea. “But what we can do is pull her soul out of Inferno, Orpheus-style, and return it to her body.”

The name was unfamiliar to him. “Who is- It doesn’t matter. We can save Jeanne?”

“Yes. We can. Well, Bayonetta is.”

“Why aren’t you with her?” Damien frowned, taking a sip. The hot liquid flowed down his throat an invigorated him instantly. Stealing a look at the mug, he chuckled and returned his attention back to Luka.

The man shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. “Well, she wants me to stay safe. She doesn’t want to lose another friend.”

“And her idea of keeping you safe is to leave you alone, completely unprotected?”

Luka gave him a curious look. “Why would Angels go after me? I’m not even close to a threat! And besides, where the fuck were you!? Kyrie says you were fine but you very obviously not!”

Damien decided to tell him the truth. It would come out later either way. “I was a horse.”

He instantly spluttered and a cacophony of noises erupted from his throat. “You were a horse!?”

“Someone attacked Nero and decided to steal his arm. Devil May Cry and myself decided to try and take our revenge. We failed and the Qliphoth grew from it.” He briefly explained, not wanting to get into detail of just how badly he had failed. “I was repurposed by Urizen to become a horse for his general.”

Luka just stared at him.

“That was about a month ago.” Damien quickly added. “I was saved by Nero about an hour ago.”

“So your first thought after being a Demonic horse for a month is to teleport into my apartment and nearly kill yourself to do so? Jeanne wouldn’t want you to do something so monumentally stupid for her!” He started slowly, but each word had more venom behind it the longer he spoke. “I knew you were passionate, but you weren’t ever that stupid!”

“I teleported to Jeanne’s first.” He meekly corrected.

“That isn’t helping your case!” Luka threw his hands into the air, exasperation rolling off him in waves. “I know that you care for Jeanne, but for fucks sake! You’re killing yourself for no real reason!”

“That’s in hindsight, to be fair.” Damien replied, a little bit annoyed now. “I didn’t know there was a plan for anything; all I knew was that she was dead!”

“Who told you?”

“Ada did. She’d been trying for a week.”

Luka nodded at that. “She definitely has. They’ve been taking the heat for us, for the most part. The rest of the city and world suspect us despite her efforts, unfortunately.”

That wasn’t surprising. No one really liked him, and Jeanne’s lack of a social presence left her as a villain in the eyes of the general public, although her Cutie J persona was very popular with everyone. The opinion on Bayonetta and Luka weren’t high either and led to most unfortunate events being blamed on them, or specifically him. An Angelic host attacking New York that resulted in massive damage and loss of life?

Oh, it was all definitely his fault, despite not being anywhere near the city when it occurred.

“Well, where is Bayonetta now?” He changed topics slightly. Luka instantly shook his head.

“No. You are in no condition to be travelling, let alone fighting alongside Bayonetta. I’m not going to let you-”

Damien simply read his mind. He didn’t even have to try; the name of the city was on the forefront of Luka’s thoughts. “Noatun? I’ve never heard of that place.”

An aggravated grunt answered him. “Please stop reading my mind! Look, I’m fairly certain Bayonetta would want you to stay here.”

“I need to help! It’s my fault-”

“Jesus Christ you really are just as bad as her.” Luka ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “This isn’t your fault, so don’t blame yourself!”

“What do you want me to do then? I’m not sitting around on my hands while I can help her!” Damien placed the mug onto the coffee table and gestured to the man opposite him. “I can-”

“Jeanne would want you to recover. Remember that time you came back from Drakenguard? You didn’t ask, but it was really fucking obvious you wanted space and comfort from us. We gave you that because you needed it, like you need it now.” Luka argued back, his tone brokering no arguments. “If you were transformed into a Demonic entity and only just recovered from that, it wouldn’t surprise me that your body is still not quite ready to do anything strenuous, let alone basic stuff. You shouldn’t-”

“You can’t stop me.” Damien stood up and immediately felt dazed and light headed. He stumbled forward and fell onto the coffee table, collapsing it under his weight.

“Damien- Goddamn it! You know I can’t really afford paying for your bullshit like Bayonetta and Jeanne can!” A pair of arms pushed his wing aside and wrapped around his torso. They heaved and he felt himself flopping back onto the couch and looking directly into Luka’s angry face. “Are you trying to injure yourself further!?”

“If it brings her back, then it’s worth it.”

Luka rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hands. “And they call me the lovesick fool.”

Damien froze and paled. Or at least he felt he did. Given his current condition though, he probably didn’t look that much different and he took solace in that fact that Luka probably didn’t notice.

And he continued like he did not. “Look, I know I can’t stop you because you could probably toss the entire city away in order to leave, but even you have to look at yourself and ask whether or not you physically leave. Because right now all you would be to Bayonetta is a liability, just like me.”

The winged man mulled over the words and reluctantly acknowledged that perhaps Luka was right. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t teleport and he definitely couldn’t fight. What use would he be to his sister or to Jeanne?

But he knew he had to do something. What kind of friend would leave the other to die and not even bother to save them?

“What are you doing here, Luka?” He whispered; his voice was very shaky and he could not hide that. Damien could chalk it up to his current condition and hoped Luka would too.

“Huh?” His face became perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“You said she left you behind for safety. If she really wanted you to be safe, you’d be at Rodin’s under lock and key.” Damien slowly lifted himself up into a sitting position, making sure his head remained stable during the transition. “What are you doing here, exposed like this?”

“I’m… researching Noatun. Except I’ve made no real headway and you are raising a very fantastic point.” Luka gritted his teeth and placed both of his hands behind his head. “I guess with all of the hubbub she’s probably going to cause in Noatun, Bayonetta thinks they won’t bother with me.”

Maybe. But Damien felt that if someone was bold enough to attack New York in broad daylight to successfully kill Jeanne, it wouldn’t be too far out of their playbook to kill Luka to mentally throw Bayonetta into a deep downwards spiral.

“Knowing her, my sister probably was too busy trying to hold onto the glimmer of hope that Jeanne could be rescued to think clearly.” He tried to logically deduce her thoughts, verbalising each line as he drew them.  “So it probably never occurred to her that you could be in danger.”

“We did come to the conclusion that the whole thing reeked of a set-up. Someone interfered with Bayonetta’s summon and also is conveniently sitting on the exact place she needs to go. They’re trying to goad her into making reckless moves…” Luka’s voice trailed off. “Hold on, something isn’t making sense.”

“Killing Jeanne, you and myself would do that as we are all the people closest to her. But they only went after Jeanne and that was it. Why?”

“Well, you were a horse. Maybe they thought you were incapacitated permanently or something. And honestly, Jeanne is overall more of a threat to them than I can possibly ever be.” He pointed out and Damien frowned.

“That would mean they would have known I was there.”

Both himself and Luka slowly turned to each other, eyes widening at the same rate. Damien didn’t even need to read his friend’s mind to know they were both thinking the exact same thing.

“If the attack here was a set-up, then what if the Red Grave City attack was also a set-up? It took all of Devil May Cry and yourself out of the way, leaving Jeanne and Bayonetta by themselves for, I don’t really want to say this, easy pickings.” Luka grimaced, but he could see the sense in the proposal.

V had never given an explanation for Urizen’s actions. The best they got was his end goal of consuming a fruit off the Qliphoth Tree to attain power, which apparently was a feat only Mundus had ever achieved. But as to why or when Urizen had decided to undergo this plan was a complete mystery.

Given the timing and how many people it had affected, maybe it was very intentional.

“I was planning to come home the day Nero lost his arm. Or one of the days around it, but either way it was the perfect day to tie me up in something.” Damien felt a cat butting their head against his wing and he turned to see a golden feline pawing at his plumage. He recognised her as Viola and tentatively held his hand out. Viola looked at his hand, looked at him and then continued butting her head against his wing. “And STARS and Devil May Cry were completely holed up with Red Grave. It’s far too convenient for it to just be a coincidence.”

“Can you contact Khepri?” Luka asked.

The change in subject confused him until he remembered that they all had conveniently lost contact with their contracted about three months ago. “Wait, was that a part of this as well!?”

“Butterfly was attacked and left grievously wounded by Dante’s Blue Guy. I don’t know about Styx, but Khepri might’ve undergone the same fate.” Luka explained morosely. “Bayonetta healed her, but… I don’t know anything further. I’m sorry.”

Damien’s throat felt dry and he swallowed to try and moisturise it. “Khepri’s hurt?”

“She could be! I don’t know!”

A cold fury began to build inside of his stomach. It spread like a virus through his body and Damien curled his hand into a tight fist. Electricity crackled around it and he had the awareness to check for Viola before he accidently shocked the cat. To his surprise, she was still headbutting his wing without a care in the world.

“The thing is, Damien, the other Madama and Demons seemingly were taken out specifically so only Bayonetta only could summon Gommorah. And the Demon pretty much instantly attacked her the second it could. This- I don’t want to kick and scream conspiracy, but it’s damn well looking like one.” Luka then punched the chair beneath him. “Goddamn it!”

“Why are they hurting everyone close to us?” Damien whispered, knowing his words were very petulant for this situation. “What did we ever do?”

“Well, we kinda stopped the world domination of Paradiso. That’s a pretty big deal.” The man stood up and grabbed his empty mug. Damien muttered a quiet thanks and kept his eye on Luka whilst he walked back to the kitchen. “As far as we know, the blue guy was working with Paradi-”

“He’s the prime suspect?” Damien frowned. That was very specific; he had almost forgotten about the existence of Dante’s blue guy.

“He is the suspect. Rodin told us he was.”

That was surprising. The weapon-smith never normally involved himself with their affairs, with the exception of annihilating those specific servers and asking him to traverse the multiverse. Whatever this blue guy actually was, they were important enough for Rodin to personally get involved.

The realisation sent a chill down his spine.

“That’s why we need to stay here. If this guy worries fucking Rodin, then what chance does a half-dead you stand?”

Damien felt his anger and frustration begin to fade and he leaned back into the sofa. He wanted to help. He needed to help.

But his body physically couldn’t.

“Bayonetta’s got this.” Luka retook his seat, leaning forward and clasping his hands together. “You just gotta believe in her and recover. When she gets back with Jeanne later on today, you can tell them everything.”

“Yeah.” His voice was small. Tired. Conflicted.

“Anyway, what’s that? You brought it along and I can’t figure out for the life of me what it is.” He gestured to the package that lay on the couch and Damien finally realised he wasn’t holding it any longer.

“That’s… It’s Jeanne’s Christmas present. For me.”

Luka’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter. “Oh. Well, that’s… I really don’t know what to say. Have you opened- that’s a dumb question, you obviously haven’t.”

Damien telekinetically flicked the card towards himself and caught it. Pulling it out from the envelope, he passed the card to Luka. “I haven’t because I’m confused about whether or not I should.”

The man’s eyes scanned over the card, narrowing the further down he got. Luka glanced up at him with a frown, then towards the package with a deeper frown.

“She wants to make you an Umbra?” He exclaimed finally, setting the card down. “This is news to me.”

He reached out and grabbed the package, staring at it with a curious eye. “I don’t recall Bayonetta ever taking time off to work with Jeanne, so I imagine her gift to your sister would talk about the same deal.”

“What do you think it is?” Damien asked.

“The hell if I know.” Luka shrugged. He put the package back onto the table and gestured to him. “You should open it.”

He hesitated and made no attempt to reach the package. “I should wait for Jeanne-”

“If it’s something to help you become a Witch, then you should definitely open it.” He folded his arms and nodded. “And aren’t you curious?”

“I am, but…” Damien shook his head and grabbed it. “Let’s do it. It might be a powerful artifact that can help me recover.”

Slipping his hand under the brown paper and ripping it apart with a smooth motion, he felt metal on his fingertips and frowned at the sensation. Grabbing the object, he pulled it out and stared at it with a small amount of confusion until he recognised just what he was holding.

It was an Umbran Watch.

Unlike Bayonetta’s gold and Jeanne’s silver, this one was inlaid with obsidian black stone. The design on the face showed no symbol and was a flat surface, like Jeanne’s, and was covered in the signature grey cracks of the rock. Damien just stared at it with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“An Umbran Watch?” Luka rushed over to the couch and peered closely at it. His eyes widened and turned to him. “Holy shit! That’s what gives a Witch her immortality and an anchor for her contract! That’s… actually pretty much everything you need to become a fully-fledged Witch! Or Warlock!”

Jeanne wanted him to be a Witch. She didn’t hate him.

He couldn’t stop himself and Damien began to cry. Tears flowed, backed with small whimpers and sobs that escaped his uncooperating, throat. He closed his eyes tightly and tried very hard to retain control of his emotions.

“Hey! You okay?” Luka interrupted his calming and he opened his eyes to see the man looking at him with concern.

“She cared.” He whispered softly. The words scratched at his throat.

“Of course she does, you idiot. Did you actually think she didn’t after your fight?” He laughed. “Damien, you literally saved her life and pulled her free from Balder’s clutches. And the only reason you had a fight to begin with was because you did and still continue to care too much about her. We had a conversation about it about three weeks ago when we were discussing gifts for Christmas and she told me she regretted everything she said that day. She had no idea how to approach you for an apology because she thought you hated her. Hell, didn’t you read this letter?” He waved the envelope in front of him. “She bared her goddamn heart and you are worried that she didn’t care? Damien, she’s just like you; she cares too much!”

Like two peas in a pod. Damien cracked a smile at that.

“I guess offering what is essentially immortality is a hell of a way to do so, but honestly that’s on brand for her,” the man smirked. Luka returned his attention to the watch and closed Damien’s hands over it. “We could connect you to it. I think.”

“Do you know how to do that?”

Luka froze and his smile wiped from his face slowly. “Uhh…”

He clicked his fingers and pointed at him. “Couldn’t you talk to Khepri?”

“I can’t.” Damien brusquely replied and the man’s face fell with a grimace.

“Damn. I guess we have to wait for Jeanne. That really does suck; we might’ve been able to heal you faster.”

A strange piece of trivia ran through Damien’s mind at that statement. Lumen Sages were said to have watches; Jeanne and Bayonetta both neither had known and were never taught to be able to confirm this fact. But if that was the case and knowing he already had an unknown Angelic contract…

A dumb, idiotic and stupid idea was beginning to form.

“Hope might know.” He spoke with certainty, trying to give Luka the impression he wasn’t sure. “They could help us.”

“Hope… The Joy? You do know that the whole idea of the Lumen Watch is still rooted in myth?” Luka gave him an apprehensive glance. “I know it makes sense with how they summon and as a parallel to Umbra, but that’s just a writing convention, not reality. Besides, I never saw one on Balder’s person.”

And what he spoke was true. There was no evidence for it, but yet Damien felt as if there had to be a connection. There had to be some truth for it all!

And he knew exactly where to find it. Benevolence, can you answer this?

’Damien?’ A weak voice answered him and he almost jumped in joy. ‘You managed to reach us?’

Where are you? What’s going on?

‘Khepri brokered our deal and allowed our communication, despite Balder’s machinations. If she has been compromised in anyway, this is too.’ Benevolence was slowly getting stronger the longer their sentence continued. ‘But in regards to your theory, it has some merit. We are not sure of the specifics since we were never involved in any processes, but it is possible.’

Damien sat up suddenly, his eyes widening. Luka jumped back in shock with a pain grunt escaping him. “Jesus Christ, don’t do stuff like that! Especially when you zoned out for a minute!”

He turned to his friend with resolution. “I know where I have to go.”

…

“Before you get started, are you even sure this is going to work?”

The pair now stood upon the roof, with Damien rubbing his hands together and Luka standing sceptically to the side. The journalist had his arms crossed and looked on with reluctance, while he was mentally preparing himself for the spell he had to cast. The animals were now back in the care of that strange old lady that smiled far too kindly at him and Luka had changed into an outfit more suitable of a place in a Mediterranean climate. Black, bell-bottom pants encased a pair of black shoes, which also had a white shirt tucked into it. A brown and black vest covered this, and Damien could see the hint of his father’s scarf tucked away. A pair of fingerless gloves encased his hands and they were both holding onto a wide brimmed hat that had a grey lattice pattern across the brim.

“If what you’ve told me is right, then only the pathways into Inferno are closed. We should be able to get into Paradiso with ease.” He answered, stretching his hands and arms with one motion.

“I meant the spell.” Luka gestured to him. “Do you even know what to cast and how to?”

“Well, I don’t.” He reluctantly admitted after a moment’s hesitation. “But in theory it’s the same as summoning Khepri. But backwards. And in a different location.”

“In theory!?”

Damien flinched at his tone. “Look, I need to try something! If I can get anywhere close to one hundred percent I can help. I spent so long doing nothing while an entire city was getting annihilated and I lost my l- my bes- my friend while I couldn’t do a fucking thing about it! And you don’t want me to help!?”

“I think potentially hurting yourself more is a problem that you need to accept.” Luka shook his head and walked over, placing one hand on his shoulder. “Damien, you’re hurt. Both mentally and physically. What you are attempting probably is going to hurt you more and we both know that both Bayonetta and Jeanne will kill you personally if they find out what you are doing.”

“The goal then is to not let them find out.”  He pushed his hand off and walked forward. “I’m going to try, consequences be damned.”

A thought came to him and he glanced back to Luka. “What are you going to do?”

“Me? I’m staying here, just as Bayonetta requested.” Conflict then flashed upon his face and Luka groaned. “Oh… God dammit. If you succeed, you’re just going to do even stupider things. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Damien did not hold back his smile. “I knew you would see reason.”

“All I see is an idiot.”

He did hold back the bark of laughter that would’ve escaped his throat. Shaking his head and calming himself, Damien splayed his palms out and clapped them together. White energy began to wrap around his wrists, snaking around and meeting into a ball across his connected hands. Pulling them apart and expanding the sphere into an outstretched oval, Damien thrusted forward and poured his magic into the portal.

With an exuberant tearing of reality and a brilliant shine of golden light, a portal to Paradiso formed.

“Holy shit!” Luka screamed from behind. “You did it!?”

“I can’t keep it open for much longer!” He turned back, his latent strength already beginning to fade. “If you are coming, now is the time to make that choice!”

Luka placed that hat onto his head, a strange fedora with two strings floating down from the front of it. Upon these strings sat two beads; one red, one blue. “Well, we both know Bayonetta will blame me if I let you get hurt, so let’s go!”

He ran through the portal. Damien smiled briefly at his enthusiasm, then walked forward as well. Keeping his hands wide and his magic flowing, he stepped through the portal and instantly closed it once he felt the realm of Paradiso around him. Collapsing down to a knee, he took in several deep breaths and took stock of his immediate surrounds.

He frowned at what he saw.

The realm was still as vibrant as ever, which each surface gleaming with ensnaring beauty, but it seemed far more faux than before. Each object seemed to strain within itself, almost as if it was telling itself that it had to be perfect. It had to be snaring. It had to be beautiful.

Standing up slowly, his eyes moved to Luka’s figure. The man was standing by a small temple to Temperentia, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

“This all seems… wrong.”

Damien raised an eyebrow at that statement. “You can sense it too?”

“Well, no. But just look at this.” Luka pointed to a plague that heralded the arrival of the four Auditio to Paradiso. “The metal is just terrified of us.”

“Terrified?” He whispered, peering at it a little closer. “I wouldn’t say terrified.”

“What would you say, then?”

“It’s trying too hard. Like someone has it at gunpoint or something.” Damien turned away and looked down the pathway towards a city made of gold and white stone. “When I was here last time with Bayonetta, it didn’t have to do much to get into your mind. Now, it’s like we both know exactly what it is up to, and it isn’t trying to hide it.”

“Is it because we know?” Luka asked. He was interrupted before he would elaborate further.

“Foul intruders.”

Damien whirled around to see a flock of Angels landing on the street behind them. They were centaur-like beings with their torso’s comprising of a single giant head with arms popping out where the ears would be.

He did not recognise them at all.

A larger one, coloured red and holding a giant, drill-shaped spear, stepped forward and stared him down. “You… you should not be here. The Prophet said you were taken care of!”

That statement alone carried a lot of implications and Damien knew that everything was on purpose. Someone, or something, had been pulling a lot of strings behind all the scenes. His convenient disappearance was not a convenience.

Sharuba snapped into his hand and he pointed the katana at the Angel. “Well, you can tell your Prophet that his little scheme is a failure!”

“A failure? You are but a setback in the grand calculus of the plan. We will move on without you.” The Angel pawed the ground and brandished its staff. “Us Accolade and Allegiance have no qualms in crushing you where you stand.”

“Luka-” Damien started.

“I’m already out of the way.” The man called out and the interruption made him glad for his intuition. Drawing the sword closer to his body, he held it across his body in a defensive stance and waited for the Angels to make their first move.

The Accolade held itself back and the Allegiance swarmed forward. They were armed with a mixture of swords, harp bows and drill spears, each one brandished and aimed at him. He did not want to test the limits of his fighting ability so soon, and especially when he had not had a chance to heal up, but a few Angels shouldn’t be so bad.

They arrived and it was time to put his money where his mouth was. Damien deflected a spear that was levelled at his stomach and used the momentum to block a sword that arched down at his neck. Telekinetically shoving a few stray arrows away, the winged man quickly came to realize that it was simply a matter of time before he got overwhelmed by the numbers.

Fire wrapped around Sharuba and he slammed it down and attempted to blast the swarm away. A large explosion erupted from the ground at the point of contact and the Laguna went flying. The Accolade grunted with annoyance at its underlings and ran forward to engage him itself.

Time to shake things up.

The katana disappeared and the Carian staff fell into his left hand. Holding it up, he spun it in a small circle and thrust it forward. Three giant swords made of blue light appeared; one above and two either side of him.

The Angel stopped and stared at him with uncertainty. “What is this magic?”

“Something a little further away from home.” He answered with a confident smirk. The staff disappeared and the katana returned back to his grip. Wind howled and wrapped around the blade. Damien had formed a small plan that pretty much involved them not getting close enough to catch him off-guard.

Hopefully his phalanx would keep them at bay long enough.

Shockwaves rippled through the air and began tearing at the armour of the Accolade. Damien continued the assault with more swings of Sharuba, watching with satisfaction as the weapon was ripped out of the Angels hand.

“Enough of this!” It roared, and the Allegiance returned to its side. “Get him!”

The Angels swarmed forward and the Glintblade Phalanx acted. The three swords flew out and skewered three of the Allegiance. They dropped like flies and rag dolled along the ground. But that still left five of them and they were now upon him.

Damien parried one of them and felt a pair puncture his stomach. The instant, sharp pain served as a reminder that he was definitely not ready for anything. Ripping the weapon from him, he roared with anger and used the pain to fuel his body into moving faster. Quick slices made quick work of Angels one and two, each one falling to pieces within seconds. Three was blasted with a bolt of electricity and instantly burst into flames. Four and five regrouped with the Accolade and the small burst disappeared into nothing. He couldn’t keep himself upright and he collapsed down to his knees.

“Damien!” Luka sounded frantic. And terrified.

“Hmph. You were the one he was most afraid of? The Prophet must reassign his priorities then. We must return to the side of the Arch Eve and guide her towards her fate.”

Blood was flowing from his mouth and Damien vomited more up with a dry heave. Tears burned his vision and he looked up to see the Angels slowly stalking towards him.

He was going to die. This time, there would be no Urizen to save him. No excuse to keep him alive.

“Dispose of the-”

“Get back, foul creations!”

A white blur dashed into view, slamming into the Angels and pushing them back. Damien quickly wiped his vision clear and found himself watching a Joy slicing through the Allegiance with a gold and aqua sword.

This wasn’t any old Joy. This was Hope.

“Our realm has no quarter for the likes of you!” Hope screamed, ripping apart the final Allegiance with a charging thrust of their sword. They turned to the Accolade and pointed at it. “Now begone, or we will make your death permanent!”

“The old guard still wishes to stay relevant. You were replaced by the Prophet due to your insolence and inability to assist the Father with his plans.” The Laguna snarled in return. “Now begone!”

Hope chose not to heed its warning and charged forward. The Laguna resummoned the spear back to its hand and swung it in two arcs, trying to squash the Angel. Both strikes were dodged with ease and the sword transformed into a whip. It cracked out and wrapped around the Laguna’s neck, or at least where Damien assumed its neck would be given its head was its torso. The Angel pulled back on the whip and the Accolade stumbled forward. Taking advantage of the imbalance, Hope launched forward and the whip became the sword once again. This time, it impaled itself onto the top of the head area of the Accolade. It gurgled once, then dropped to the ground and disappeared.

“We will begone? We will see about that.” Hope hissed at the ground, then straightened up and turned to him. “Damien!?”

“Hope,” he greeted with what was hopefully a smile. Considering how quickly they ran to his side, it probably didn’t look that good. “I was looking for you.”

“You were looking for us now? Are you a complete moron?” They began to help him into a standing position, slipping under his arm for support. “Look upon these ruins and tell me if Paradiso is safe.”

“Hope!” Luka’s arrival did not tear his gaze away from the dead Angels that littered the floor. Neither did their translation spell.

They were machines. A hazy memory passed through him, from a place he would rather forget.

…

“And what makes these… children so special?” Jeanne asked, nudging his side with an elbow. “Besides being skilled warriors; but that seems to be everyone in this world.”

“They aren’t children.” Damien said, gesturing at her to follow. The Witch complied with an annoyed huff, but didn’t verbalise any other disagreements. “Bayonetta and myself-”

“Cereza.” She corrected him, almost automatically at this point.

“Sorry. Cereza and myself investigated them when we had an opportune moment.” He stopped to watch three machines’ life-forms waddle past, with a fourth straggling behind. Gesturing with one hand, he lifted the lagging machine and brought it to them. “The machines share several designs with the androids.”

“Androids? They are androids?”

“In every sense of the word. As much as they look like us, they are mimics.”

Jeanne walked up to the flailing machine and put a bullet in its cranium area. She dug her fingers into the lip holding the spherical head onto the tube body and ripped it apart. Antique cogs and wires came out along with it, followed by a round black sphere that enclosed a glowing white core.

“That’s certainly different.” She held it aloft with one hand, observing it with a curious eye. “So why do you say that these machines share designs with the androids?

Damien dropped the machine and approached her. “Androids run on a similar looking core they call a black box. There are enough differences between the two for any theory combining the two to have any actual evidence.”

“You think it’s a bi-discovery then?” She arched and eyebrow and passed him the core.

“Not exactly. But something here is a puppet to the other.” He clicked his fingers and the core disappeared into Inferno. “Or something is an imitation of the other.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

Damien gestured at himself with a thumb. “The androids are meant to replace us in their war against the machines while we stay on the moon. I think differently.”

…

The Angel lay in pieces of shattered machinery and the only thoughts that ran through his mind was those of Drakenguard. The androids that used to inhabit that world were replicas of Humanity and served as a means for a former Primordius to attempt to reclaim their position.

And now it seems someone was doing the same for the Angels.

“It started about three moons ago. The Prophetic One arrived and introduced us to a new ‘breed’ of Laguna; one more powerful than us.” Hope forlornly said, staring at the broken metal and porcelain alongside him. “And then they began to butcher us, slowly but surely.”

“Hold on, what!?” Luka exclaimed, voicing the shock that Damien had spreading through him. “Butchering you?”

“It’s not safe to discuss here. Let us go to a safer place, where the rest of us have gathered.” Hope turned to the journalist and pointed towards the stone city. “Go towards Pietra D’oro and we will do the rest from there.”

…

The city of Pietra D’oro was both eerily silent and auspiciously empty. Hope lead the trio through the streets with an air of authority, each step taken with authority and purpose. Damien, by comparison, was drooping lower in their arms and struggling to keep pace with the Angel. Behind them, Luka trailed with an uneasy expression.

“Are you faring well, Ascendant One?” Hope asked out of the blue.

“Can you not call me that?” He answered, grimacing at the sounds of his words beginning to slur. “I’m not anything special right now.”

“I did say this was going to happen.” Luka caught up to them and slipped his body other his other arm. His eyes met his own and Damien could see the concern in them quite clearly. “Jesus Christ, you’re getting worse.”

Hope stopped in front of a dilapidated temple and turned them towards it. “In here. Once we meet with the others, we can discuss your state safely.”

The Angel slowly leaned him against a pillar and Damien reached out to give himself some support. The second they left his side, though, he nearly collapsed and only Luka’s tight grip managed to keep him upright.

“Shit! Damn, you’re fucking heavy!” The journalist complained and Damien managed to chuckle.

“Well, I thought I would be lighter considering I haven’t eaten in a month.”

“That’s not how weight works!”

The sound of grinding stone interrupted them and they both turned to see Hope tracing the final touches of a glowing sigil onto a nearby pillar. Behind the Angel was a stone wall that was slowly descending into the ground, revealing a passageway that was lit up by torches inlet on sconces on the walls.

The Angel jogged back over and returned to their position under his arm. “We must move quickly before the Prophet figures us out.”

“Right.” Luka answered for them and the trio lurched into the tunnel. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the wall shot back up and closed the tunnel off with a resounding boom. Damien’s vision swam and he held back a groan for all of two seconds.

“Luegray!?”

“Damien!?”

His eyes flickered and-

…

The woman in blue turned around with a sad smile, looking him up and down. “You’ve tried so hard to repent your supposed sins. Why?”

Damien stared at her, almost believing she was an idiot with the question she presented him. But he knew a lot better than to assume anything close to that with her, of all people. What he had done to her, of all people, could not be so easily forgiven. “You know why. I hurt you. I killed people you love-”

“Every single time we meet, you say the same things. You did not kill anyone who did not deserve it. What happened to him was not your fault.”

He didn’t remember this conversation, but Damien knew very much that it had repeated itself over and over in the final weeks of his stay in Kathreftis Sympan. Blue heels clacked on the marble floor and the attendant stopped within an arm’s length of him. He turned away and refused to meet her yellow eyes.

“You do realise this isn’t a memory, correct?”

What!?

His eyes darted around in a panic and he suddenly realised he had no idea where he was. Or when this was. Or how-

“Calm down. Your body is being pushed well beyond its limits and its starting to expire. Fortunately, you still have others looking over you.” She smiled softly whilst her words drew his attention back. “Once you reawaken in your true self, it will be in far better shape than you left it. But for now, you require counsel.”

Damien was confused more than anything. “But how can you reach me? I thought-”

“The Velvet Room is a place between time and space, undefined by law or reality. Just like the Gates of Hell and Faram Azula, it can be used to peer into other worlds with ease.” She explained. Her hands opened the grimoire and flicked through the pages. “For six months I could not see into the Alphaverse; now I believe I know why.”

“You know what is going on?”

The woman laughed, a golden sound that trickled into his ears like honey. “You must know that I cannot simply reveal everything. Your task is yet to be discovered, let alone able to be completed. The Infinite One’s theories are correct. That is all I can reveal without bringing attention to myself.”

That brought out a chuckle. “Going against your father’s wishes once again?”

“It’s not my father who is looking for me.” Her mood sobered up and her expression became ashen. “The closest hint I can give you is that when I looked for the Alphaverse, I saw a kaleidoscope reflecting back at me.”

Damien frowned and glanced to the side. “What’s that supposed to mean- Let’s just be real for a second; how does that help me!?”

“All will become clear when you realise its meaning.” She answered, matter-of-factly. “I came here to warn you of what could come from the Prophet’s interference. Do not stray from destiny, Damien. It will deliver us unto the same end regardless.”

“What is that supposed to mean!? Please, tell me! Mar-”

…

Damien’s eyes shot open and he instantly saw an Angel hovering over him. Normally his first instinct would be to attack the creature, but he was still reeling over what he had just seen to even function. The small head with wings did a flip and flew out of sight before he could act, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

And boy, he had a lot of them.

How did she find him? He vividly remembered Philemon telling him that the Realm Between would be shut permanently once he left, so there should’ve been no possible way for his daughter to pierce through the veil and seek him out.

And what was the point of giving him cryptic advice-

He knew the answer to that one and he rolled his eyes. Despite being completely different from her father, she was still a pure-born Primordius. ‘Cryptic Advice’ had to be their middle names.

Groaning, Damien shifted himself upright and gave his surroundings a quick look over. He was lying atop a stone bed, that somehow did not feel like one, inside of a white and gold trimmed building that was dirtied by dust and shadows that danced from torches upon the walls. The small Angel from before was lurking by an arched doorway. It gestured at him with one wing and flew off.

His body felt better. Damien looked down, spread his hands out and gasped. His skin colour had returned to a healthy pinkish hue and his strength had somewhat returned. Pushing himself up to his feet, he walked towards the door and peered outside.

A stone passageway greeted him, along with a flock of the small Angels. They chirped and chittered excitedly, flapping their wings vigorously. He was confused by their actions and mannerisms, considering who he was, but curiosity won out. Damien walked towards them and watched them fly away, gesturing to follow.

So he did, clicking his fingers to reform candlelight. He held it aloft and continued after the Cherubs.

The spell was extinguished when he realised the passageway was getting brighter without the aid of candlelight. Licking his lips with anticipation, he walked out and gasped at the sight before him.

The passageway led to a gigantic cavern that glittered with torchlight and golden halos. Angels of all shapes and sizes milled around, tending to each other or holding conversations like humans. Some Joys were helping a Gracious reattach its armour to itself, Affinity were listening to a speech by an Applaud, two of those silly Angel Cars were racing around the perimeter of the cavern and in the background, he could see Fortitudo or a Courage observing the room upon a roof of another temple.

Damien just stared at everything with wonder for a full five seconds before he shook his head. He needed to move on and find Luka and Hope.

Forcing himself into motion, the winged man quickly rushed down a staircase and instantly ran into the flock of Angels from before. Now, they had a larger and older variant floating with them.

“Welcome, Ascendant One.” It gurgled, bowing its head. Damien instantly shook his head in response.

“Please don’t start that. And why are you calling me that now?”

“You are the Ascendant One. We have reawakened to our true purpose, which is to aid both you and your sister against the Enemy.” It answered reverently, looking down upon the rest of the Angels. “Come. The First Sphere Seraphim will explain all to you, along with the human and Hope.”

The flock pushed into him and shoved him down the stairs. Damien stumbled, regained his footing and gave the Angels a flat look before continuing onwards.

Each group of Laguna he passed all stopped in their current actions and stared at him, all with a mixture of apprehension and fear. He returned them all in kind; he would not forget the literal invasion of the mortal realm anytime soon and he didn’t trust these Angels one bit.

A small part of his mind did argue that they had ample enough opportunity to do something to him, especially if he had lost consciousness in their domain. The words of the elderly Angel echoed again and he remembered what Bayonetta had told him;

“Hope, was it? They explained that the Father had corrupted their true purpose and twisted them onto the path they walk now. I don’t recall a time when Angels weren’t hellbent on destruction, but it does make a little sense if you recall what Jubileus had said.”

Balder had influenced, if not outright controlled, the entirety of Paradiso for at least five hundred years. Given his death, it stood to reason that the Angels would just return to their normal lives.

Something about that bugged him. Damien remembered challenging Philemon for his meddling in both his own and his friends lived and getting annihilated for daring to battle one of the Primordius; Balder was extremely powerful, but he wasn’t that much stronger than Bayonetta. How the hell did he manage to overpower the Creator and first of the Primordius?

He supposed he would find answers for that soon enough.

Hope and Luka were standing by a ruined fountain depicting a… urinating Cherub, conversing about Bayonetta.

“I’m just worried, you know? She mourned for seven straight days and instantly was right up for rescuing her. I know they are close, but that’s… I don’t know.”

“Perhaps she has feelings for her sister-witch.”

“Uhh, Bayonetta has made it pretty clear that she sees Jeanne as a friend. Not to mention Jeanne is currently seeing someone.” Luka looked away awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, I’m- Guh! I hate talking about relationships. All I know is that flip-flopping between emotions that fast generally means that you are trying to bottle everything up. It’s not healthy!”

“You would think that the ladies’ man himself would be quite the gossip.” Damien interjected with a smirk. The pair turned and Luka greeted him with a pained smirk.

“I’m not a ladies’ man! All of that was for investigations and not because I’m some sort of sleazy guy!”

“Says the person who currently lives with Bayonetta, of all people.” He quipped right back and Luka shook his head instantly.

“Hey! She lives with me, not the other way around! That mean’s- Shit! That doesn’t help my case against being some sort of womaniser…”

“Is it that bad to be considered attractive to members of your race?” Hope folded their arms and switched their gaze between the pair.

Luka shrugged and lowered his hand back down. “Well, it’s all contextual. For the most part people who use their attractiveness as a weapon tend to be unsavoury in nature, and it’s not exactly something to be proud of. Do you know of the deadly sins?”

“We are aware of them.” The Joy nodded.

“Vanity is considered one and is very much associated with womanising.” Luka made a face. “I don’t think I’m full of myself, or at least I’m not now. But hey, onto more important things, that healing trance was very effective.”

“Effective?” Hope directed her attention to Damien and began to intensely scrutinize him from head to toe. “That trance should have kept you asleep for at least one solar cycle.”

“How long was I in it?”

“About twenty minutes or so.” Luka answered, his face creasing with a slight frown. “Is that not good?”

That was concerning. Damien quickly glanced over his arms and tried to find something out of the ordinary. He didn’t.

“Healing takes time and effort. We barely put you in the trance with means neither was spent in order to fully fix you. But we do theorise due to your differences in your constitution that perhaps some spells and magic do not function as intended.” Hope walked over to him and placed a hand on his forehead. Their mouth curled into a slight frown and the hand was withdrawn with a single shake of their head. “It did not fully work. Your strength is not back.”

“It doesn’t need to be for me to help my sister.” He folded his arms, trying to hide his unease behind bravado. “I heard Fortitudo wants to talk to us?”

Hope shook their head. “It is not just the Bringer of Flame who wishes to converse.”

“It is not, young one.” The smooth tones of the Auditio heralded their arrival. The trio glanced up to see the colossal Angel landing on the ground near them. Their wings folded up while the twin draconic heads lazily relaxed into a low position. “But we all need to know the truth behind all of this.”

Damien caught onto the sub context and shared a look with Luka. “You know what’s going on?”

“We have been aware of the Enemy ever since the cloud of confusion was lifted from our minds.” The mechanical voice of Sapientia echoed through the cavern. They all turned left to see the Angel crawling towards them, its armoured head bowed low. “We could not act, as we did not know enough.”

“Let us tell you the tale.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and a shiver passed through him. Damien did not ever want to hear that voice again. He swallowed down his emotions and looked up to see Temperentia floating down, a morose expression on their face.

…

“It started with our destruction at your hand. It took time for us to remanifest inside Paradiso, but when we did it was like a cloud had been lifted from our minds, as Sapientia mentioned previously. We realised that our very existence had been corrupted, against our creator’s wishes and beliefs.

We started with the rebuilding of our society and existence, trying to determine our new place in the trinity. Lead by Hope and their vision of our life, we began to work through and sort out everything. Our purpose renewed, we made steps to make contact with those who we believed we could trust and help us find our place within Chaos and Inferno.

Then he came.”

…

A blue figure floated above all; their arms were spread out in a welcoming pose and their face, or what was visible of it, was serene and emotionless. The Laguna watched them with curious eyes, waiting for some sign of action or introduction.

“I believe you all had roles to play in the Resurrection of the Creator.” They, now identifiable as potentially a he, spoke with a dignified and arrogant tone. “And yet the Recreation did not occur. Why was this failure tolerated amongst you all? I was lead to believe the Laguna were proud creatures!”

“You trespass upon our realm and make demands of us for the actions we regret most?” Fortitudo was the first to speak, leaping up into the air with a might flap of their wings and hovering opposite them. “Who are you and what gives you the right to do so?”

A deep, low chuckle echoed through the land. “Who I am is completely irrelevant; my identity would not change anything about your opinion or prejudice against me. What you have failed to do is the purpose of my visit. You should all be very glad that I decided to; showing myself in the open like this is quite bold and a very rare occasion.”

“Speak sense and not riddles!” Fortitudo roared. Temperentia floated up beside their brethren and stared down the figure with derision.

“If you are here to mock us with reminders of our lowest point, then begone!”

“On the contrary, I believe that I should not begone. After all, we do have much to discuss about your replacements.”

“Replacements!?”

The figure snapped his fingers and two golden portals opened up beside them. Two humanoid figures floated down, one holding a shield and the other holding a giant sword. They had no heads and the weapons they brandished had faces etched upon them.

“Please, welcome Valiance and Valor. These two are my lieutenants and the leaders of a new force of Laguna that will usher in a new age!” The two Angels stared across at the Auditio. They returned it with uncomfortable tension. Neither could sense any kind of life from the new pair.

“What are these… things?” Temperentia moved forward and peered a little closer at them. “They do not feel… correct.”

“An astute observation. These Angels were created by yours truly, for one true purpose that I have already entailed. Several times over at this point. I will not repeat myself again.”

“You have told us once.” Fortitudo stated, their voice as confused as the host felt.

“I have told you-!” The figure caught themselves and let out a short bark of laughter. “I suppose this would be the first time. I do not apologise for my tongue.”

“Who are you?” Temperentia asked again.

“We are blessed perfection and the result of countless years of research.” The one with the sword spoke from the aforementioned weapon, answering instead of the figure.

“We will complete what you failed to do.” The one with the shield moved forward to block Temperentia’s path. The Auditio halted in their movement with surprise.

“You believe you can challenge the Auditio and their legions?” Iustitia gurgled, rising up behind the trespassers. “There are three of you and countless of us.”

“Hmph.” The jovial nature had disappeared completely. The blue figure swept their arms out and gestured to the sky. “Who do you think subjugated an entire realm by himself?”

More golden portals formed and new Angels swarmed down from them. They chittered and roared in a challenge, a single sound that reverberated through the Laguna.

The Laguna answered in turn and rose up to meet them.

…

“We battled for the better part of a solar cycle. No matter how hard we tried or valiantly we fought, we were simply not strong enough to be able to repel these invaders.” Temperentia gestured to the walls of the cavern. “It was quickly determined that these false Laguna were here not to simply replace us; they were to annihilate us and remove our existence entirely.”

“We gathered those we could and fled.” Fortitudo continued on. “All that is left of us, is here. Iustitia held them back for as long as they could, but they perished to make sure we could live.”

“What?” Damien hissed, taking a step forward. “They’re gone!?”

“When a Laguna perishes inside Paradiso, they are lost forever. The same is true for Infernal’s in Inferno.” Sapientia explained. “A spirit cannot return to the same place it was lost.”

Hope quickly translated for Luka, who turned to the three gigantic Angels with wide eyes. “Hold on, how did you create new Angels?”

“We do not.” The quadrupedal being kept its head lowered. “Our ranks are only replenished when Lumen Sages pass into the next life, much like an Umbran Witch.”

The words reverberated through Damien and a cold fist gripped around his heart. He tried to swallow it away, but it persisted through.

“Hmmm?” Temperentia pulled their attention towards him. “You fear for something. Or someone.”

“Have you aware of what has occurred outside of Paradiso?” Luka covered for him, noticing his distress.

“We are not. We apologise for not being more vigilant.”

“These new Angels attacked us and killed Jeanne.”

The three Auditio all stopped and stared down at them. Burning tears threatened to fall from his eyes and he looked away to try and keep them contained.

“We would say that is impossible, but this is the new reality of the situation.” He assumed it was Fortitudo’s voice that was speaking. “The Matriarch of the Umbra was a fine warrior and an even stronger force of personality. We are deeply sorrowed to hear this.”

“We stand with Fortitudo. This is a deep loss.”

“Damien?” Hope was standing near him, their head tilted in concern. He waved the Joy off and they reluctantly nodded after a moment of hesitation.

“Does this mean that Jeanne might become a D-Demon?” He asked, hoping that no one notice his words tripping up.

“It is very unlikely. Since the Arch Eve is not with you, we assume she has journeyed to Inferno to retrieve her sister.” Sapientia hummed. “It takes a long time for a soul to become an Infernal, if nothing manages to interfere with it first.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Luka grinned and clapped him on the back.

“Indeed it is. But, we do have one question for you.” Temperentia gestured down at them. “Why did you come here, of all things? Should you not be lending aid to Bayonetta?”

“We came here for help, actually.” The man continued, much to Damien’s relief. “She didn’t want me in harm’s way, and you all saw Damien come in here like a corpse. He should be able to tell you the rest.”

He gave Luka a flat look before continuing. “Jeanne gave me- well, was going to give me an empty Umbran Watch. I thought we could come here and use it to regain my strength.”

“An Umbran Watch? We presume you seek to utilise it as a Lumen Watch? That is impossible. You have been claimed by an Infernal.” Temperentia frowned. “Your bond with Khepri runs deep and will not be so easily broken.”

Damien frowned in return. “But Khepri said I managed to bind myself to an Angel in order to cast that spell back in Ithavoll.”

“What!?”

“Impossible!”

“This cannot be!”

“Both light and dark was used in the experiments that he undertook.” Hope pointed out. “When Paradiso was emptied in the invasion, several of us remained in the realm; those who were not influenced by the Father and kept to our original purpose. He could have contacted one of them, inadvertently.”

“It still would not work. His bond with Khepri-”

“Have peace, Temperentia,” Sapientia held up a claw to silence their fellow Auditio. “There is much about him we do not know. This may be another anomaly that we simply have to keep as an aspect of his existence, not something set in absolute.”

“Where are these Laguna now? Do we know?” Fortitudo asked.

“Gone or deceased. Many were present in the initial attack by the Prophet and the others fell along with Iustitia.” The Joy’s voice fell slowly into hopelessness. “Maybe there is nothing left.”

“There will be someone left.” Fortitudo shook their heads. “We just need to find them.”

“Do you know who you contacted?” Temperentia turned to him. Damien struggled to meet their gaze and wilted down.  

“I don’t… I can’t talk to you.”

“That is understandable. Our history is very painful for you.” The Angel’s face softened with sorrow. “Perhaps you need to summon your Patron for a greater understanding of this situation.”

“I can’t summon her. She’s missing!” More emotions surged through him and he struggled to keep his composure. “Khepri has been gone for three months, when everything seemingly went to shit.”

“Well…” Luka raised a hand and stroked his chin in thought. “Have you tried?”

“Not recently, no.” He frowned softly and considered that for a few seconds. Damien had tried contacting her before and the last time he had tried to summon the Demon was before he was turned into a horse. Ever since he had returned to his normal form, he had never attempted anything of the sort.

Perhaps he should try.

“There is no use in dallying.” Sapientia chuckled. “If you do not try, you will never know.”

Apparently when they weren’t being evil, the Auditio were actually a helpful lot. Who would’ve thought it?

His mind made up, Damien reached out with one hand and released his pent-up power with two words that echoed out; “PDEE BARMA!”

The portal to Inferno opened, coating the cavern with a hellish crimson. He could not see anything inside-

Wait.

“Khepri?” Damien’s eyes widened when he recognised the scene in front of him. “Khepri!?”

“Holy shit!” Luka gasped from beside him.

“She’s in trouble.” Hope observed with a panicked tone. “We need to help her!”

Khepri was battling someone outside of the view of the portal. Magicks and fire swirled around her, blasting off towards her assailant. Her green dress was torn, her skin was charred and her face was curled into a grim snarl.

A blue laser beam caused the Demon to leap backwards to dodge both it and the explosions it erupted in its wake. Pieces of the landscape then were ripped from the ground and tossed at her. She managed to deflect them with bursts of wind, but could not stop another barrage of blue lasers that burned straight into her.

“Khepri!” Damien screamed and immediately began to run forward. Hope joined him without hesitation; their hands transformed into whips that trailed out behind, leaving aqua and golden tails in the air. The Madama glanced up and her face paled when she saw them.

“You fool!” She cried out, her voice clearly in pain. “Stay back!”

“No,” another voice answered from beyond the veil. Damien skidded to a halt, not because of Khepri’s warning, but because he recognised the second person. “Let them come. Let them witness the death of my greatest foe.”

A figure, encased entirely in blue, moved into the vision that the portal offered. They did not turn to look at the pair and kept their gaze entirely on the Demoness across from them. “You, unlike your sisters, managed to evade me for three moons straight. One was captured. One was left for dead. One swore fealty to me. You? You ran, like the coward you are. And now I’ve found you.”

“We will have revenge for our realm!” Hope challenged, pushing past him to run into an invisible barrier at the portal’s entrance. “What!?”

“Were you not informed of the new arrangements, little Angel? You cannot enter Inferno any longer.” The figure chuckled and slowly began to turn towards the portal. “It seems that you still aren’t aware of-”

Their words grinded to a halt when they lay eyes on him. “Oh. It’s you. I should’ve expected this.”

Damien merely summoned the Sharuba and held it at the ready. He didn’t really know what he could do against a foe that Khepri was struggling against, but he would not be caught out unprepared.

“But you shouldn’t even be here.” The figure’s tone was becoming upset. “I did so much work to remove you from the equation fully, and yet you are still here. Why? Why are you here!?”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” He lowered the katana and tilted his head. Every passing second seemed to drive home that seemingly the entire deck was stacked from the start.

“Urizen should have disposed of you and your pesky Devil Hunter friends long ago, when I requested it. That was my only request and yet the imbecile completely and utterly failed to complete such a simple task!” The figure surged forward with their palms glowing a bright blue. The ground crackled and ripped apart as blue magic held large chunks of Infernic stone aloft.

A tendril of shadow wrapped around the figure and whipped them back. Khepri reappeared and recalled the tendril back to her palm and set her sights on her assailant. The Madama was holding one side and stumbling around in very obvious pain, but her mouth was set in a determined line.

“Your fight is with me, Prophet.” She snarled, preparing another spell in her free palm.

The Prophet sighed and floated back into an upright position. “Your time is nearly over, Madama. Soon enough, the time of Paradiso and Inferno will be up. And with your elimination all possible obstacles to the destined beginning will be gone.”

“Then finish it, if you dare.”

“Your arrogance astounds me.” He turned around and the chunks returned to his command. “But I am not surprised. You’ve never changed, Khepri. And you never will.”

“I don’t need to change.” She glanced behind and locked her gaze with Damien.

‘Prepare to close the portal.’

His eyes widened with sudden fear and Khepri’s plan became increasingly obvious. It was the first time he had heard her voice in tw- three months. And now he might never hear it again.

Don’t! No, Khepri! Don’t do this! Please!

Her lips curled into a smile. ‘Do what?’

Khepri disappeared with a warp and then he felt her right behind him. The Prophet’s head shot up and-

He closed his fist and the spell shut off. The portal closed and the presence of Inferno disappeared instantaneously. Damien stood there and just breathed, trying to figure out what had just happened. He didn’t get much of a chance.

Khepri fell onto him. Her sudden weight caused him to stumble forward and drop the katana, but his wing reflexively straightened out and held them both up. Hope grabbed onto the Madama, pulled her up and he turned around to help the Angel with the Demon.

“Madama!?”

“Let’s just say…” Khepri chuckled, her voice failing between weak exhales and wracking coughs. “Don’t challenge the Prophet for a week.”

“You did what!?” Hope exclaimed.

“Don’t explain. We need to help you!” Damien guided the Infernal to a nearby stone bench. They laid her down and green energy began to coalesce in his palms. A weak hand pushed him away and he just stared in disbelief. “Khepri!”

“You are still recovering from your own ordeals. My health is not paramount to what needs-”

“Fuck what needs to be done.” He pushed past her hands and began to heal her. “I’m not losing another friend!”

Khepri merely sighed and let her gaze wander off into the distance. Her breathing patterns began to stabilise the longer his magic flowed into her body. Her skin colour had not changed and the wounds that lay scattered across it stayed as they were. Pouring more into his effort, Damien could feel beads of sweat forming on his brow and he began to feel a little dizzy.

But he pushed through. Khepri would not die.

‘I’m not dying, you idiot.’ Her voice was annoyed, but there was a hint of… pride?

I don’t care. Jeanne is gone and- A sinking feeling enveloped him and Damien slowly ceased all of his movements. You knew.

‘I could not tell you.’ Khepri answered, her green eyes softening. ‘And I did not get a chance to warn you.’

“Khepri?” His voice was very small and his mouth began opening and closing like a fish out of water. No sound came from it and he knew he could not speak.

“Madama?” Luka stepped forward and knelt beside him. He gave the man an appreciative look and found Khepri doing the same. “What happened?”

“It’s honestly good to see you, Redgrave.” She smiled kindly. “But I cannot tell you much. All of this was foreseen and none of you could have known in order for us to stand a chance.”

“Three months ago, my visions had changed and the future I was expecting was gone. The grand enemy of us all, the Prophet, had caught onto my machinations and was making moves to begin his first step.” Khepri gestured around them to the Angels that were all listening on intently. “When the rumours of the fall of Paradiso reached the Court of Sheba, our Queen ordered us into hiding. She expected the same to happen here; the Prophet would arrive with an army of Infernals, overthrow her through sheer weight of numbers and then subjugate the realm to his whims.”

“What actually happened was he left Sheba alone and took out the Madama’s, one by one. I lost contact with Styx exactly three days after the order was created, and Butterfly a week after that. Fridja had turned on us and was working with the Prophet to eliminate us all. Once enough of us were gone, the Infernals started to realise that the balance of power had shifted back into their favour and all alliances and brokered deals were gone within seconds. I managed to stay hidden long enough to scry forward far enough to begin to comprehend what was about to pass; when I put together enough information to be able to explain, I tried to find you.” She rested a hand on his own. “But I was too late to stop you from being captured by the kin of Sparda.”

Damien’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Urizen is related to Sparda? Dante’s father?”

“That’s what he calls himself now?” Khepri spoke after a brief moment of silence, her voice full of mirth. “What a pretentious poet. Either way, a part of destiny had begun to unfold and I had no real choice but to abstain and watch these events from afar. If I interfered, the Prophet would have discovered me a lot sooner and… well, I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

A sombre hush fell upon the crowd and a strange pain broke out in Damien’s chest. He rubbed it with one free arm, frowning slightly.

“I watched as he started his assault on New York, I watched Gomorroh show his true self as Jeanne died. I could not do anything but watch as everything I had prepared crumbled into ruin.” Khepri continued. She swallowed and then pushed him off, sitting up and regarding the gathered crowd. “It took a few weeks, but he found me. I knew what he was trying to do, so I knew what I had to do. Delay.”

“I fought the Prophet for a week. Each second I dragged out of him was another for Cereza and yourself to recover and become strong enough to be able to start this new chapter of fate.” She sighed and turned to him. “Evidently it was not long enough. Cereza has already made her way to Noatun and you have barely recovered from your ordeal.”

“I guess we were correct…” Luka said despondently.

“Correct about what?”

“That this whole thing was a trap.”

Khepri’s lips flattened into a thin smile. “Well, here’s the thing. Since she has gotten Madama Butterfly back and you are here, conversing with me, my preferred sequence of events is actually occurring right now. So yes, while we are falling into the Prophet’s scheme, we do have the edge.”

“And what is that?” Temperentia rumbled, their eyes narrowing.

A finger was raised and Damien felt himself become the subject of it. “Me?”

“You heard the Prophet; he doesn’t want you involved.” The Madama lowered her arm and folded them. “You specifically can be the thorn in his side.”

“Why?” Four people asked simultaneously. Hope, Luka, Temperentia and himself all gave each other quick glances, but returned back to Khepri for her answer.

It was almost like he should have expected what she said; “I can’t tell you now.”

“Great!” Luka stood up and began to pace. “Not only do we have this supposed ‘chosen one’ who can barely stand, let alone fight, and no reason to go with it. Remind me why we ask you anything again?”

“Because you know if that you never ask, you’re guaranteed to never get an answer.” Khepri smirked. “But time is of the essence. Damien; you wanted something from me?”

He pulled out the Umbran Watch and handed it to her. “Jeanne ga- was go- Gah! She gave me an Umbran Watch and I was wondering-”

“You can’t convert it to a Lumen Watch.” Khepri took the small object and held it up, flat in her palm. “It’s designed and meant for a contract between Human and Demon. Such magic cannot be undone so easily.”

“Then what about the one I contracted in Paradiso?” Damien asked.

“Oh, them? They are a minor contract, like Gomorrah was to Bayonetta.” She suddenly closed her hand around the watch and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “But something tells me they aren’t so minor any longer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luka spoke up.

“Damien, concentrate. Find the binding that you formed in Isla Del Sol and follow it.” Khepri instructed. “I’ll explain as you do so.”

Okay. He could do that. Closing his eyes, Damien began to explore his inner psyche.

Four connections trailed off his centre; two were clearly grafted on and he assumed they were Benevolence and Asura.

‘Correct.’

RIGHT

One he recognised as Khepri’s and hers felt natural and like it belonged. The final, unknown one was a wispy golden light and he grasped it. Giving it a mental tug, he tried to follow it out of his body. It turned, weaved and looped in onto itself; this wasn’t that surprising. He had tried to sever the connection once, but it seemed that the other end wasn’t so lenient in letting him go and he only ended up damaging it. Giving it another tug, he felt resistance and knew that he was in the same room as the contracted.

Temperentia stirred and turned to him. “What did you just do?”

And then he dove back into his body, completely and utterly confused. It took a few seconds of thinking, but it all snapped together with a resounding culmination and Damien felt his eyes bulging. He collapsed slightly and felt lightheaded. How was this even possible!? Just-

“WHAT!?” He screamed in both denial and confusion.

“Calm down! I told you I would explain, so let me.” Khepri hissed. “When you called for aid with your sin summon, the only Angel left in Paradiso answered. A lowly Temperance, one who had been freed from Balder’s doctrine, stayed behind in case something went massively wrong.”

“WHAT!?”

“We answered your call, Ascendant One, because it was the correct action to take.” Temperentia spoke. “Our flock was going to annihilate the Umbra Witches and then return to the world to annihilate that too. It was requested of us to lend aid to those who needed it, and the world needed it. Even at the cost of our siblings.”

Damien just stared into space, trying to wrap his head around this.

“We were chosen to take up the mantle of the Lord of the Winds and Auditio when we reformed our legion. Our power has increased and so has the strength of our contract.” It continued. “You will need to accept us for this power to be useful, although.”

He continued to stare into space.

“Damien?” Luka appeared in his vision. “You okay?”

He snapped out of his reverie and shook his head. “Am I okay? Am I okay!? Do I look like I’m okay!?”

“Calm down-” Khepri started.

“I will not calm down! Why the fuck am I here with… that fucking thing as my contracted!? How did that happen!?”

“It’s not the same Angel.” Hope stepped forward and gripped his elbow. “Do not blame-”

“It created me!” Damien screamed, shoving the Joy away. “I will not be chained to a fucking-”

“Listen to me!” Khepri warped in front of him and he froze. “Do you honestly think I would broker a contract between you and something that you would despise!?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“He does have a point.” Luka shrugged and leaned against a nearby pillar. “You kinda did.”

“We understand your pain. The former Laguna in our position performed many terrible and horrible actions that bring us great shame.” Temperentia spoke with melancholy, but a steeled edge ran through their words. “We will not let this shame define our legacy. If we are bonded together, then allow us to lend you our strength!”

“You took my blood family away from me and turned me into this… monster!” He retorted and the Auditio wilted slightly.

“The being you were joined to was not the same one who oversaw the Eclipse project.” The Madama gave him a glare. “They want to repent for the sins of their predecessor. You can help them with this!”

“Why does it have to be me?” Damien knew he sounded like a whiny bitch, but he felt he was a little more than justified in this particular instance.

“Because you have the potential to. You are unbound, unclaimed truly by either light or dark. Quite literally, you are currently the only being with potential to use both Angels and Demons.” Khepri had calmed down considerably. “The only other person who could have been was Bayonetta, and she was claimed by Butterfly long ago.”

The statement didn’t feel like a lie, so he assumed she was telling him the truth. But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was decidedly off about her explanation.

‘I’m not lying. I will admit that I am withholding some key pieces of information, but nothing I have stated is a lie.’

Can you please not? All I want to do is regain the strength to help Bayonetta and Jeanne, and not deal with this bullshit that I currently am!

‘There is no bullshit here. You are bonded with Temperentia and nothing will change that fact.’ Khepri stated. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by denying yourself the use of a willing tool. That’s a poor way of putting it, but it’s true.”

I will not use it!

“And that’s acceptable. But in your current state, you need to understand that every power available to you should be utilised.” Khepri decided to voice the words. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Don’t be afraid of your potential.”

The Madama revealed the Watch and telekinetically lifted it up. “This is for defining and finalising a contract between Demon and Mortal. Technically speaking, we don’t actually need this to solidifying ours, but I can use this to give you enough of your strength back.”

The words relieved him.

“But… there is a catch.”

“A catch?” Hope questioned, gripping the underside of their arms tightly.

“Time delivers us all to the same end.” Khepri clicked her fingers and the Watch opened. “You can’t fight it.”

Everyone but the Demon just stood there. Damien decided to verbalise his reaction, but Luka beat him to the punch. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“What you have suffered here will not be forgotten.” The Watch began to glow a bright purple and the Demon peered over it. “Your body will need to heal eventually.”

“I don’t care. I want to help.” He knew the repercussions would hit like a truck later, but it would be worth it.

Khepri smiled. “And you’ll be able to. Just be careful; a candle that burns from both ends lasts half as long.”

The light enveloped him and began to fill him with energy. The exhaustion dissipated and Damien felt his body becoming stronger and stronger and-

Lightning and fire crackled around him, illuminating the surrounding area as the purple light faded with flashes of red and blue. The winged man spread his fingers out and stared at them, flexing each of the digits one at a time. Sharuba snapped into one hand and the Carian Sceptre fell into his other. Twirling the staff around, he pointed it at the peeing Cherub and let loose a glintstone cometshard, following up with a shockwave from the katana laced with fire and lightning.

The twin projectiles impacted onto the statue and it disappeared in an explosion of grey, red, yellow and blue dust. A few Angels gasped and pointed at the display of power, whereas other just watched with frozen expressions of shock.

“What was that?” Fortitudo’s voice was in awe. “We have never seen anything that approaches that kind of power.”

Temperentia raised an eyebrow and let their fingers wave around. “That is a display of otherworldly power. What have you been up to in these last six moons?”

“You recognised it?” Khepri asked, grabbing the floating Watch and dropping it into Inferno.

“We know enough of the other worlds to understand when something does not belong.” It explained. “As the highest-rank Auditio of the four, it was our responsibility to keep track of the Multiverse, along with the Infinite One, in the Creator’s Absence. This has not changed.”

Damien wasn’t all that surprised by that revelation. He recalled Temperentia talking about the Realms Between before their clash at the Vigrid airport; revealing that they had knowledge of the multiverse was a logical step.

“But we have no knowledge of what each world contains. What you have shown us is far beyond the scope of our own magic.”

“Some people of the Lands Between dedicate their entire lives to pushing the limits of sorcery.” Damien returned both weapons back to Inferno and let his arms rest by his side. “But this… I think I’ve returned to my full strength.”

Khepri nodded once, looking completely satisfied. “Good. Now we need to get you all to Noatun.”

“I’d hate to be the breaker of bad news, but we are kinda in a pickle right now.” Luka stepped forward and gestured around. “Not only are we probably as far away from Noatun as we possibly could be, but we are trapped in this cavern, correct?”

“The mortal is both incorrect and correct.” Sapientia tilted their head. “There is a pathway directly to Noatun that lies near the heart of Paradiso. It was what Aesir used to use when he visited us.”

“He is right in saying that we are trapped in this cavern.” Fortitudo added. “The land above is crawling with the false Laguna. We do not have enough resources to battle to the Gate and activate it without losing everyone to them.”

The Demoness merely rolled her eyes with annoyance and sighed. “That complicates things.”

“If someone showed me where-” Damien began, but Khepri’s eyes instantly found his and he quietened down. “Sorry.”

“Just because you are at your full strength, it does not mean that we need you to start pulling ridiculous shit like teleporting across the entire world.” She shook her head and turned to Hope. “Do you have any ideas? You’re the most familiar with the magic of this world.”

“Is there a reason why you didn’t ask us?” Sapientia coldly whispered. Khepri merely glanced in their direction with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know anything about the magic of Paradiso?”

The Auditio merely grumbled about ‘silly Infernals’ and turned away with what Damien assumed was embarrassment. Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of an Angel having what amounted to a teenage sulk, he heard Hope answer his contracted and hope blossomed in his heart.

“There is a way. When Balder ordered the legions of Paradiso to empty, those who were gifted in the Light Arts redirected all the exits to open in Isla Del Sol.” They spoke. “We could try to replicate this to move the entrance to Noatun to the Gate in here.”

“Will that work?” Damien marched to the Joy and somehow managed to keep the desperation out of his tone.

“We might need your aid in performing this, but it should be possible.” Hope nodded firmly. “All we need to find is the leyline node that connects the Gate to the entrance and move it to the Gate here.”

The unfamiliar terminology did phase him. Damien stood there perplexed and Hope gave him a knowing smile.

“Do not fret, Ascendant One. If we require aid, then we will ask.” The Joy folded their legs underneath themselves and took a seat. They placed their arms on their knees and began to glow a faint green. Giving them space, he walked over to Khepri and Luka.

“Is there any reason they call you the ‘Ascendant One?’” The journalist questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“I honestly don’t know. You know, I don’t know why they call Bayonetta ‘Arch Eve’ either.” Damien directed the statement to Khepri. “Do we get to know why?”

“I can tell you this one, actually.” She stroked her chin and gestured to him. “An Ascendant One is the one who is destined to obtain either one or both Eyes of the World to become the Arch Adam or, in Bayonetta’s case, the Arch Eve.”

He frowned at that. “I’m supposed to obtain an Eye?”

“Well, the Right Eye was lost with Balder and Bayonetta isn’t giving up her Eye any time soon.” Luka shrugged. “So I guess you’re off the hook for now.”

“Is he?”

The foreboding question, despite the innocent nature, sent a chill down his spine. The winged man swallowed and turned the conversation away from anything involving Eyes of the World. “So what will you do?”

“What will I do? I’ll continue to do what I’ve always done.” She sent an inquiring glance towards him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You can’t go back to Inferno and I don’t think Paradiso will remain safe for that long either. The Prophet knows about both and this won’t a safe haven soon.” Damien shared a look with Luka. “How do you plan to do anything?”

“You have room for one more inside of you.” Khepri moved and prodded his bare chest with a finger. “What is with this outfit? You look ridiculous.”

“Don’t dodge the question.”

“I’m not dodging it.” She lowered her arm and accentuated her words with a few gestures from her hands. “I can simply join Asura and Benevolence and wait as a spirit technically possessing you. But all I would be doing is being along for the ride.”

“Will it harm me?” Damien voiced his last lingering doubt.

“It shouldn’t. And if it does, I will find a workaround.” A white light interrupted her and the three shielded their eyes. A loud groan of metal and stone pulled their attention to a moving ring that was etched with sigils. It was situated on a ramp that curved downwards onto the ground and was made of darkened iron.

Khepri turned to him and placed the Watch back into his hand. “I’ll be with you. Make your way back to Bayonetta and she’ll be able to get you in the know.”

She closed her eyes and dissolved into red liquid, flowing from her standing position and into a red cloud. The cloud shifted towards his chest and Damien opened his arms out to accept it. A strange, uncomfortable sensation passed through him when it entered his body, but that disappeared once the entire thing was inside.

That was strange.

‘See? It was fine!’

I actually didn’t doubt you this time.

Khepri laughed. ‘You always harbour doubts, my champion. Once the Gate activates, you’ll be able to pass into Noatun and… I’m not sure how long it will take before the Prophet notices you.’

‘I’ll be with Bayonetta. We’ll be fine.’

The white glow began to fade and Damien turned to see Hope standing up. “We did it! We are actually quite surprised that we could, but we underestimated our own strength.”

He smiled and gripped their shoulder. “Thank you, Hope. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“Hey!” Luka pointed towards the Gate and called out at the pair. “It’s active! I think.”

And it was a reasonable assumption too. The metal structure was now glowing a pale purple light, with a blur vortex whirling inside of the ring. Damien decided to assume it was a portal and Hope’s next words only affirmed that.

“The portal will close once you pass through. Chances are there will be nobody on the other side, but you will need to bring Luka out of Purgatorio before you can continue. We do not believe that it would be safe for him there.”

“Understood.” Damien nodded and walked over to his friend. “We ready to go?”

Luka nodded to him as well. “Yeah. Did Khepri give you a time limit on that recovery spell she used?”

“Uhhh…”

‘One day. Any longer and we would be risking death as a consequence when it all comes back.’

“One day.” He echoed, trying not to focus on the potentially dire situation, and Luka nodded again.

“Bayonetta promised to be done within the day, so that’s pretty good timing.” He clapped his hands and walked towards the portal, uncovering his hook-wire on his wrist. Luka tilted his hat and bowed at the Angels surrounding them. “Thank you, both for not being evil and helping us out.”

“It was our pleasure, Redgrave.” Fortitudo bowed their heads and the main one smiled. “It is good to see that some are willing to forgive and forget.”

“I’m not going to forget what happened to my father or myself. But I know what happened to all of you is what happened to Jeanne; it would be hypocritical of me to forgive one and not the next. Hell, I forgave you after Ith-”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Damien believed that the Angels did not know about the top of Ithavoll and he would prefer to keep it that way. And, even though he had sworn to never forget his greatest shame, he would rather not have it at the forefront of his memories constantly.

“Sorry.” Luka rubbed the back of his head and replaced his hat back on his head. “But either way, I trust you guys now to not destroy the rest of the world while we aren’t looking.”

The Angels fell into a hushed silence. Temperentia floated in a half circle, their face serene and joyful. “That means a lot to us. We thank you.”

“Do travel and be safe-” Fortitudo began.

“Hope.” The Auditio spoke over its sibling, addressing the Joy beneath them. “Travel with them.”

Damien frowned and saw Luka doing the same. The Joy stepped forward and gestured to itself with one hand. “Us? What could we possibly give them?”

“You are one of the few untainted by him. Join them as our representative and lend them your aid and knowledge.” Temperentia tilted to join eyes with him. “It is the least we can do, if we cannot render aid in any meaningful way.”

A small spike of guilt passed through him, but he shook his head and the feeling passed. Damien would not forgive and forget so easily.

“We… we promise.” Hope turned to him and held their hand out. “Will you let us join you?”

“Luka?”

The man shrugged indifferently. “I don’t see the problem with another person on the team.”

Damien could not agree more. He took their hand and shook it firmly. “Welcome aboard, Hope.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Lumen Sage (Part 2)

…

Noatun was definitely a place Luka could see himself going on holiday to. The city, despite being on the precipice of dusk and losing enough visibility for him to not be able to appreciate it all, was still beautiful. Clear skies and golden buildings made from limestone complimented the deep blue water that he could see off in the distance. The small glimpse of the beachside showed him white sand that definitely looked soft to the touch. Above them, leading from a tower in the distance, stood a broken bridge that presumably led up to the middle of the mountain. Shadows and light danced upon the stone and left trails of ancient wonder, similar to the Umbran Ruins on the outskirts of Vigrid.

Despite leaving Paradiso, it now felt he had actually stepped into paradise.

Hope muttered something unintelligible and Damien nodded. “I agree; it’s very pretty. But we have to find Bayonetta and Jeanne. We can gawk at the city later, together.”

“Yeah.” Luka absently nodded. They were in a plaza that was surrounded by fountains and buildings. The man turned around to see a completely destroyed church behind the portal they had walked out from and chuckled. “Yep, she’s definitely been here.”

Another string of unknown dialect erupted from Hope and he turned to Damien with a hopeless expression. The Angel quickly recast their translation spell after a nudge from his friend and they apologetically grinned at him. “Our apologies. We did not realise the spell had worn off so quickly.”

“Why does that have a time limit?” Damien asked.

“Why do you inherently know Enochian?” Luka fired back. The winged man opened his mouth, shut it and shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t know. I just do.”

“What we were saying is that we expect this behaviour from the Arch Eve.” Hope continued on, ignoring the two men. “All she leaves is a path of destruction. Although to be granted, most of the time it is not her fault.”

They pointed at the walls of the church. “See that? Those were made by a sword. We believe that she fought an Angel in that church.”

“Well, we guessed that much. Neither her or myself are exactly subtle when it comes to leaving clues behind for others to follow.” Damien shrugged at the sight and walked towards another building on the opposite side. “At least it means we are on the right track.”

There was little ambience in the twilight air, leaving the entire town in almost complete silence. It reminded him of the moments before Jeanne had attacked both himself and Bayonetta; tension was building, and Luka was not sure when it was going to break. A quick glance to his right told him the same story; Damien’s fingers were clenched and ready to grab anything at a moment’s notice.

Hope had not noticed, or had chosen to try and break the tension, and asked naively: “Was it ever resolved about who your family was?”

“No,” Damien replied curtly. “And I don’t really want to discuss theories and all that, so can we please drop it?”

Luka remembered spending hours upon hours of sleepless nights to try and match a ‘Damien Luegray’ to any known database; to both his horror and surprise, absolutely nothing had shown up. No one had known why. Jeanne proposed that Balder had swept his tracks clean behind him, but Luka argued back that an entire bloodline just doesn’t disappear without something being left to find. They had found something relating to a Luegray family being annihilated, but none of the members had children that would fit Damien’s age bracket. 

If only they had known his age. Damien looked like a twenty-year old, acted like an eighteen and could’ve been anywhere in the age bracket of hundreds of years. Jeanne had confided that she remembered how her possessed-self had kidnapped the man, but not when. Her memories from that period were… unreliable at best. 

Khepri and Rodin had not been helpful. Hell, they had been completely silent when questioned about his heritage. Luka was tempted to call it suspicious behaviour, but it wasn’t necessarily different to anything else they had done previously in regards to literally anything else. 

“We are sorry to hear that. We thought that since you now have a name, your identity could be found.” Hope bowed their head apologetically. 

The winged man sighed and shook his. “There’s not much we can do when my family and myself were scrubbed from the history books.” 

And that’s if they even existed.

The unspoken comment echoed clearly through his mind and Luka turned away. A theory he did have was that Damien was simply created, as opposed to constructed. His evidence was the Homunculi creations of Sigurd, but to all reports and anecdotes he had heard the ‘Blood Moon’ project had started after ‘Eclipse’ had been put on hold temporarily with Damien’s success. So what if Sigurd had simply built, from the ground up, Balder a Child of light and dark instead of converting a mortal into one?

A piercing shriek filled the air, followed by a chorus of roars, and all irrelevant thoughts left his mind instantly. The trio turned and looked up to see three gigantic serpentine Angels hurtling through the air, swiping wildly at a tiny dot against the night’s sky. A fourth creature, this one identifiable as a four-winged Demon, grappled at the one on the right, swinging it out of alignment with its brethren. 

“Bayonetta!?” Luka barely registered the scream before a blur bolted past him, pushing Hope and himself aside. Damien sprinted and stopped at the entrance to the plaza, looking up with a staff and his katana in hand. “That’s her!”

“Who else could it be!?” He called out after him, gesturing to Hope to catch up. They nodded and sprinted after their companion. Stopping beside him, Luka’s eyes strained against the darkness to try and make out the Umbra Witch. “Can you see her?”

“Not really, but it’s her. There’s no one else like her; her presence is unmistakable.” Damien’s eyes were glowing a brilliant gold, illuminating the immediate area around his face. He let go of the katana and it disappeared in a flash of red fire. “I have to help her!”

“How!? If you haven’t noticed, she’s up there and you are down here!”

“Can you fly?” Hope asked, summoning their weapon and transforming it into a long gun. “We are not sure of the range of this and we do not possess the power of flight.”

“I can’t fly.” Luka began to open his mouth to object and he was quick to remain silent from the glare Damien sent his way. It quickly softened and the winged man held up his staff. “But I think I have a better idea. You all might want to step back.”

He shared a worried glance with Hope, who returned it with a shrug. “If he says he has a plan, then we should be inclined to let him try it.”

Well, what did they really have to lose? Damien had pulled off some impressive feats with magic before; dealing with two Angels was a little easier than destroying almost the entire flight of Paradiso in one meteor. Luka nodded in agreement and slowly began to back away. The Joy joined him and folded their arms, waiting patiently for the proverbial fireworks to start.

Damien started by pulling the staff close to his chest, then thrust it into the air. The crystal at the tip glowed a calming blue and a sigil formed beneath him, resembling a stylised version of the Umbran symbol. Seemingly satisfied, the man turned his attention to the group and took aim. Drawing the staff back, he paused for a hesitant second, re-aimed and thrust it forward with a grunt of exertion.

A brilliant blue beam burst from the tip of the staff, hurtling forward like the tributaries of the Death Star from Star Wars. It crackled with potential, hummed with raw power and Luka knew instantly that almost nothing he had ever seen compared to this. The closest comparison was the aforementioned meteor that Damien had also cast. 

“My word…” Hope whispered. 

The beam continued in its trajectory, unimpeded by any building or obstacle that lay in its way. They both watched with trepidation as it approached the Angels, both holding their breath and hoping it would be as effective as it looked. 

It blasted straight through the closest Angel, ripping through its chest and everything else. A roar of pain and surprise echoed through the air, dwindling down when the Angel faltered and fell from the sky. The beam continued to melt apart the falling body, only stopping when Damien collapsed and halted his spell. Hope disappeared in a flash and reappeared under his shoulder, preventing the man from harming himself with his own momentum.

“What the hell was that!?” Luka ran forward and knelt beside him once the glowing sigil had faded. “You can do that!?”

“That… That was Comet Azur. The strongest of the primeval sorceries. Only three people have been able to successfully cast this spell more than once,” Damien spluttered, gulping in huge mouthfuls of air between sentences. “Myself, another student and the Full-Moon Queen are the only ones.”

“That’s a spell only three people know!?” he exclaimed, giving the man a look over. “What other unique tricks do you have?”

“Besides that one? Only the ones you’ve seen me use.” The man coughed and wiped away a small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “They didn’t want to teach me too many tricks. But, I knew it would reach and work as intended.”

“What happened to the others who could not?” Hope asked.

“They became giant rocks.” 

Luka blinked, but a roar interrupted him before he could question that.

“DESTROY HIM!”

The words rattled through his skull painfully and he gripped his head tightly in an effort to subside it. The ringing stopped after an agonizing five seconds and he opened his eyes to see one of the serpentine Angels breaking away and heading directly for them. 

“Uhh… There’s no chance you have another one of those in you?” Luka stared with dread.

“We can fight too, you know!” Hope indignantly called out, placing a hand upon their chest. “We do not need to rely on the Ascendant One for everything.”

The Joy stood up and the gun transformed into a scythe. They twirled it around in their hands and pointed it at the approaching Laguna. “A blow against the forces of the Prophet is always a blow worth taking!”

“Here you are. Wilful traitor to the glory of Paradiso and the Prophet.” It let loose an animalistic snarl, opening its massive mouth to hiss each word with undisguised hate. “We will take great pleasure in destroying-”

Its attention then swapped to both himself and the recovering man next to him. “You!? You are supposed to be-”

“Yes, I’m supposed to be dead, yada yada.” Damien rolled his eyes and managed to drag himself to a standing position. Luka rose with him, ready to catch him if he decided to fall. “I’m not and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

“We will fix this error with haste.” Energy began to draw into its mouth, forming a blue and white fog. “We, Glamor, will fix everything to the Prophet’s designs!”

Hope leaped up and spun their scythe over their head like a buzzsaw. Glamor fired off several chunks of sharpened icicles, but each was batted away with a smooth slice of the weapon. The Joy warped onto the hood of the Angel and struck down with the point of scythe. To both his and their own surprise, it bounced off with an audible ‘clink!’

“We were designed to be better than you. Have you forgotten your worth in a battle with us?” It laughed, twisting its body and throwing Hope off. Damien yelled out something and teleported, reappearing with the Angel in his arms. He awkwardly dropped them down and his katana snapped into existence. 

“Well, are you designed to deal with me?” the winged man growled, pointing his weapon at it.

“You are weak. Whatever you did to our siblings will be aven-”

The strangest object Luka had ever seen collided with the head of the Glamor like a bullet. It began kicking at the eyes; each one found its mark and drew pained grunts from the Angel. 

And what was fighting the Glamor? A pair of legs. 

“What the fuck?” Damien voiced what he was thinking and Luka could not agree more with his choice of words. 

Hope did not voice any surprise, and instead teleported back to the Angel. The scythe transformed into a gigantic hammer and they swung it down at the armoured skull. It struck true and caved the golden armour in. 

Glamor shrieked in pain and tried to shake both off with a desperate twirl. The legs just jumped and flapped their wings to stay afloat, whereas Hope teleported about thirty feet above the Angel and fell down back with another slam right back onto the head.

Damien twirled the staff in his left hand and thrust it forward. A blue projectile fired from the crystal and impacted into the open mouth. It staggered the Angel backwards, opening the mouth further. The legs took advantage of this opening and thrust forward with a wicked stomp flying into the jaw. It snapped off and a guttural sound of primal agony exploded from its mouth. 

Slowly, but surely, the Angel began to fall. Hope raised the hammer up once more and slammed a final time down. The golden armour shattered and Luka could see it protruding out of the bottom of its throat. A clunking sound thunked through the air, and then the head fell from off with the sounds of metal tearing echoing everywhere.

Damien lowered his arm, the weapons in them disappearing when the Angel’s corpse impacted on the water beneath. Hope reappeared next to him and tossed her weapon away in a flash of light. Luka quickly walked up until he was beside the pair, and they all looked with confusion and amazement at the newcomer.

The legs comically expanded and rushed down Damien. They collided and their momentum rolled them both back into a bundle of limbs and leg. They ended with the legs straddling the winged man with a tight, vice-like grip. 

“Woah!” Luka exclaimed, running over to the pair? One and a half? “Who or what-”

The legs jumped from Damien and latched onto him with an excited buzz. He stumbled and collapsed with a surprised yelp, but unlike his friend Luka managed to keep his tumble to just him falling flat on his backside.

“Hey! Get off!” He tried to push the legs from him, but they somehow held on tighter. Luka’s hands raised hesitantly, as he was completely unsure of where to put them without touching something inappropriate. Damien had no qualms, grabbing the legs by the waist and dragging them off. 

“Alright, what the fuck are you?” He held them up and gave them a flat look. “I’ve never seen someone split their legs from their body, or just exist as a pair of legs. Are you an Angel or Demon?”

The legs somehow managed to mimic shaking their head and Luka sat up with narrowed eyes. The legs had used wicked weaves, which was something only…

Wait.

“Bayonetta?” He tentatively asked and the legs ‘nodded’ as best as they could. Damien dropped them and they landed in a slight crouch. The legs walked over to him and pointed with a knee, nodding again. They turned to Hope and bowed slightly, then back to Damien and jumped with excitement. The winged man frowned slightly, then his eyes widened with recognition.

“How are you just a pair of legs!?”

The legs shrugged, then turned back to the main battle that was raging above them. Except now it was on top of a dilapidated and broken bridge that spanned from the city up and into the mountain; a Glamor crashed onto a section nearby. The legs jumped into the air and flew towards it. 

“That’s where she is! We gotta help her!” Damien yelled out, sprinting after them. Hope shrugged, then joined him without any hesitation. Luka rolled his eyes and climbed back to his feet.

Of course they would just run off and leave him behind. But then again, what did he expect? All he was good for was running around like an idiot and getting in everyone’s way. 

“SUNDENNA!” 

Luka returned his attention to the prone Angel and watched as what looked like a Demon Unicorn appeared from a red portal from Inferno. It whinnied and roared into the sky with a red blade in place of a horn. The sight did fill him with terror, but at the same time it was a huge relief.

Throwing his wrist out, Luka aimed his zipwire for a higher vantage point and flew through the air after it. 

…

Bayonetta was here and she was excited to see him. Albeit as a pair of legs (and that was something he wanted to talk to her and learn; it was a very neat trick) and probably not at her full mental capabilities, but she was excited. 

Damien didn’t doubt that, but he was waiting for that excitement to fade and the realisation to set in. There was no way she knew of what happened to him in Red Grave, but he had been missing for too long. Did she blame him? Most likely. 

‘Oh, stop it.’ 

“Do you have a plan to help her?” Hope questioned once they caught up to him, dragging him out of his mind. “It looks like she has everything well under control.”

“I have to try. At least it looks like I’m not fucking around and doing nothing while she does all the work!” Damien answered, turning past a corner and finding some satisfaction from not catching his wing on anything. “

“We do not believe she will think like that. You provided a distraction to help with that Angel and were incapacitated for the rest of the time.” The Angel implored with a gesture. “And she also would recognise you were not present to be able to act.”

“She doesn’t know that.” 

“Her legs were very excited to see you.”

Damien halted next to a sweet shop and shook his head. “That was just a first impression sort of thing. If she actually thought about it, she would be annoyed at the minimum.”

Hope slowed down and folded their arms. Their mouth curved downwards with disappointment and they shook their head. “Why are you so negative about her reaction to you?”

“Because my sister’s patience can only stretch so far. I’ve been missing for a month-” Something or someone flickered at the edge of his senses. His words died out as he tried to concentrate on whatever it was. 

Just like Cereza was half a year previously, it was so tantalizingly and frustratingly familiar. He knew this person and yet he could not place who it was. For some strange reason it reminded him of Bayonetta, but her presence shined brilliantly and was the beacon he was running towards. The second was a scant scent that slipped through his fingers like sand.

“Hope?” He threw the question out and the Angel nodded.

“We can sense it too.” The Joy’s eyeless gaze met his own and he could sense the concern in it. “This is not a good sign.”

“What do you think? Or rather, what are you sensing?”

“A Lumen Sage.”

Damien felt his body go cold in a split second. His first thoughts rushed to that Balder had survived and was now coming back to attain his revenge. No one knew with absolute certainty that the Sage had actually died from falling from the heavens. 

If the Sage could survive that-

“But we believe it is not Balder.” Hope continued, their words a little faster than before in an obvious attempt to calm him down. “We do believe that he is here to avenge his fallen brother.”

Khepri!?

‘This should be fine.’ Khepri appeared in his mind’s eye, a finger tapping on her chin and her brow slightly creased. ‘From what I’ve seen, this specific scenario is good.’

A Sage hunting us is a good thing!?

‘…’ Khepri then unexpectedly shrugged. ‘Maybe?’

Unbelievable. 

…

“So what has Cerezita got herself into now?” 

Luka peered over the rooftops to a peculiar sight; Bayonetta was walking and talking to a small boy in an orange and yellow outfit. And it wasn’t like the few moments with Cereza where she despised the girl.

She was laughing and poking fun at them, as if they were an old friend. A small spike of jealousy passed through him, but he quickly dismissed it. He didn’t know what had happened between them and for all he actually knew, they could have been.

Following them along atop the buildings, he crawled and kept his posture down. Luka figured that there wasn’t much point in revealing himself now. If anything, he wanted to ease her into the idea that he was around; as far as she knew, he was still safe and sound back home. 

Luka could already hear her scolding and chuckled to himself. 

“What do you mean!? Do I have to mother you constantly even though there is no fucking reason for you to be here!? Can you recall what I said to you when we met? Curiosity killed the cat. Can you guess what I’m going to say, Cheshire? I don’t want you to fucking die! So stay put!”

He did agree with the mental Bayonetta; there was no real reason for him to be here. Hell, the only reason he was here was because Damien was a moron and didn’t know when to stop. Speaking of stopping, Bayonetta and her new friend had halted completely and she was now scanning the rooftops. 

Shit.

Luka practically dove to get behind a chimney and prayed to whatever deity was listening that she did not see him. 

‘Luka?’

He barely caught his yell of surprise and managed to keep it at a yelp. For fucks sake stop doing that! Give me some warning next time.

Damien did not react as he normally would. His tone was grim and the words lacked any form of humour. ‘You know it doesn’t work like that. We also have a problem.’

A problem? In what way was there a problem that was putting him on edge, of all people? Luka knew Damien wasn’t arrogant, per se, but the man had a lot of confidence that was reinforced by his abilities and powers. 

‘Both Hope and myself have sensed a Lumen Sage.’

Oh. Shit.

Luka’s eyes instantly darted towards the rooftops and surveyed them in a panic. No immediate flashes of white or gold took his attention, but that certainly did not mean that the Lumen Sage did not exist. 

Where!?

‘I don’t know. All I can tell is that someone is here and isn’t friendly.’ 

A thought came to him and he instantly relayed it to Damien. Is it Balder!?

The reply came without hesitation. ‘Hope believes it isn’t. But be careful. You are a known ally and associate of my sister, and we both believe they are hunting her.’

Damien did not need to elaborate. Luka maintained his crouch and tried to stay well out of sight.

Bayonetta was right; he should not have come. 

…

Damien heard them before he saw anything, which he expected. 

The sounds of bullets and clangs of metal on metal rang through the air, along with the tell-tale roar of Infernals and Lagunan. He recognised the Angel as Fortitudo, and that drew a frown from him.

“Shouldn’t Fortitudo be on our side?” he muttered under his breath, moving to a sprint when the street opened up into a long hallway. 

“Fortitudo is bound to whatever contract they formed with the Sage.” Hope’s translation spell had evidently worn off again, but it did not hinder their explanation. “The bond between contracted and contractee is unshakeable, between both time and space.”

That he already knew. Madama Khepri had remained his patron when he travelled to other worlds, regardless of the fact she wasn’t obligated to.

Why is that? he asked, curiosity getting the better of him briefly.

‘Inferno and Paradiso connect everywhere,’ Khepri answered. ‘The other worlds either ignore them and we do the same in return, or they interpret us in a way that suits them. Do you remember the Daedra? They’re somewhere here. Well, there now.’

Huh. That explained a lot.

‘It’s essentially the same for time displacem- I shouldn’t say that.’ The Madama shook her head in his mind’s eye. ‘I guess the cat is out of the bag now, then.’

He wasn’t going to correct her, but Hope had essentially told him already. Is this the Prophet’s doing?

‘Presumably. It’s definitely in their ability to do so.’

“ARGEDCO!”

Bayonetta’s voice cried out, breaking his internal conversation and dragging him back to reality. This was different to the one she had used before, and yet again he did not recognise it. 

Can you see them yet? Damien reached out to Luka, trying to use whatever he could to his advantage. 

‘I can.’ 

The words both chilled and sent a rush of excitement through him. Well?

‘It’s a Sage, alright. They look like what Balder did, but with less opulence.’

A warrior, then. The Umbra had roles within the clan, and it made logical sense that the Lumen followed suit. According to some texts from Antonio and Jeanne’s own recollection, every member of the clan was trained for battle. Those who made it a speciality, like Bayonetta and Jeanne had in their path of learning, were a force to be reckoned with.

‘But Bayonetta seems to be holding her own,’ Luka continued with a chuckle. ‘You can probably imagine what she is doing.’

Where is she?

‘Other side of the bridge. If you find a big tower with a red roof, I’m next to that, and they’re in the plaza beneath me.’

They were near one of the underpasses that lead to the other half of the city. Motioning at Hope to follow, Damien changed course and the pair crossed to the other side. 

The tower with the red roof wasn’t far; he could clearly see it about two streets away. He pointed at it and turned to the Angel beside him. “There!”

“What’s so special about the tower?” They tilted their head, but continued to follow him without too much disagreement.

“Luka’s near it and so is Bayonetta. That’s where we gotta go!” 

Hope nodded. “What are we waiting for?”

‘Damien!’

…

Luka watched with terror when the Lumen Sage broke through Bayonetta’s guard with ease and knocked her down with one slice. From his perch, he could see the thin red trail spanning her thigh and the shocked expression on her face. 

So he did the only thing he could do; he contacted Damien.

‘What!?’

He got her! What do I do!?

A string of expletives and curses erupted from his friend. ‘Where are you in relation to them?’

I’m above them, relatively. 

‘Can you distract him for about a minute?’

How the hell could he distract them for a minute? He was Luka! He wasn’t a warrior, a fighter or even had a weapon that could grab the attention of the Sage. 

‘I’ll be there as soon as I fucking can. Just be bait for as long as you can be!’

Luka swallowed and gritted his teeth. Bayonetta was counting on him to try something, and so was Damien. Jumping down to the plaza floor, he threw himself forward in a roll to arrest as much momentum as possible and looked up to see the Sage raising his twin-bladed weapon above his head. The sleeve of the Lumen drooped slightly and revealed the slightest trace of pale-white flesh. 

A weakness. 

“Hey! Asshole!” Thrusting his arm out, Luka released his zipwire and prayed that his aim was perfect. 

It was. The barbed hook pierced straight through the wrist and the Sage grunted with pain. He turned to face him, twirling his weapon with his damaged arm and severing the wire connecting the hook to him. 

Shit.

“Mortal.” The Sage’s voice was muffled from the mask, but it was very unsure and trepid. “Leave us. This does not concern you.”

“This doesn’t concern me? That’s my friend you are about to kill, asshole!” Luka fired back, finding courage from the confusion and anger at the words of the Sage. Out of reflex he began to recoil the wire on his zipline, only for it to fall out instead of clicking back in. He didn’t pay it any more attention than necessary and continued on: “That fucking concerns me!”

“Luka! Get out of here!” Bayonetta was staring at him with fury and her finger was pointing towards the exit of the plaza behind him. “Run before-”

“I’m not running, Bayonetta. This is our fight, not just yours.” And as he said those words, he began to believe them. Yes, he might still be buying time for Damien, but Jeanne was his friend too. He gestured at himself with his thumb and then with his index finger at the Sage. “And this asshole ain’t ruining anything yet!”

Her eyes met his and he tried to convey that he meant everything he said. 

“I will warn you only once more,” the Sage growled, drawing both of their attention back to him. “Do not make me bring harm to those I have sworn to protect-”

He would have laughed at those words, but this was a very slippery situation. The wrong action would claim his life in an instant, despite the reluctance of the enemy. “The last Sage I knew murdered millions, if not billions, of people. You aren’t different, so don’t claim to be.”

Luka raised his fists and tried to recount how many seconds had passed. Had it been a minute? It had to have been a minute. The Sage answered by merely holding his right hand up and closing it into a fist. Fire burst around the fingers and Luka’s stomach did a flip.

“Whatever lies the Witch has told you are nothing but falsehoods.” He began to stalk towards him and Luka unconsciously took a step back.

“I’ve searched for the truth for twenty years,” he fired back, his bravado fading fast. “A man who’s afraid to show his face ain’t going to be the one to tell me what’s the truth and what’s not!”

Damien!?

‘I’m nearly there. Ten more seconds.’

He better be. Luka started counting down: Ten.

“Luka! Please!” Bayonetta cried out with desperation. She was pointing towards the exit again, this time emphasising it with her body. “Leave us! It’s not safe!”

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Listen to your Witch for once, mortal. What are you planning to do if you wish to aid her?” the Sage asked, annoyance leaking into his words. “Be a pointless distraction that will not render her any assistance?”

Six.

Five.

Four.

“Well,” Luka grinned and stepped backwards a little further. “It’s a good thing I’m just the distraction.”

Three.

Two.

One.

Damien arrived on the other exit, his staff gripped in one hand and Sharuba in the other. He saw the scene in front of him and didn’t hesitate to heave the staff back and thrust it forward, a blue orb of magic flying from the end. The Sage, unfortunately, sensed it coming and acknowledge the projectile with a glance. He flipped out of the way, letting it impact on the ground with an explosion that erupted into a small cloud of blue dust. 

The Sage kept his eyes on Damien and stayed in a low crouch, poised and ready to strike. “Just what… Who are you?”

His eyes were glowing brightly, and the glare that followed would have burned the Sage where he stood. “Hands off my sister.”

…

Could Bayonetta believe what she was seeing? That her brother was standing there, looking like someone who had literally just thrown on whatever he could find, facing down the person who had temporarily bested her?

Yes. Yes, she could.

‘He definitely looks out of place.’ Butterfly commented. She did not care.

Damien was here. In the flesh. And there were absolutely no doubts about it. 

“A brother?” The Sage slowly got back to his feet, keeping his gaze directed on him. “You are no Witch or Warlock. I repeat my earlier question; what are you?”

There were a slew of answers to that. Bayonetta was interested in his own.

“Me?” Damien tapped himself on the chest with the staff he held (just where and when did he get that?) and a blue sheen spread across his skin. “I’m the final legacy of Balder.”

The Sage flinched hard, but the mask hid any reaction she could discern. His voice did not; “What could you possibly mean by that!?”

“Ask the children he tortured to death. I know you are currently out of time, Sage, but you might want to get yourself up to date.” The staff disappeared and he pointed at the man with the Sharuba. “And stay away from us!”

The sound of clattering heels filled the brief silence while the Sage considered his words. Bayonetta glanced up to see Hope, of all beings, kneeling down.

“Ar- Bayonetta!” they exclaimed, their hands patting down and checking for any injuries. She managed to deflect most of their roaming limbs before they began prodding anything inappropriate. 

“I’m fine!” she hissed. “How are you here?”

“Damien and Luka came to Paradiso for… We’ll let them explain that, but we were requested to join them here.” The Angel turned their attention to the stand-off. “It seems that the problem is worse than we initially believed.”

‘Paradiso must have been attacked as well,’ Butterfly surmised. She had come to the same extrapolation and agreed with her patron.

The Prophet really did cover their bases, Bayonetta commented. I wonder what the situation is up there.

‘No better than ours, I would say.’

“Your lies fall upon deaf ears, deceiver. If you are a sibling to the Umbra Witch then you will be clouded by her vision of the world.” The Sage pointed at her with his free hand, but not his attention. “What more falsehoods could you possibly have? A Lumen Sage would dare not harm mortals, least of all children!”

“I was nothing more than a child when I was stolen. He turned me from a man into a monster,” Damien’s entire form flickered to show a very brief glimpse of the Demon within. “And you downplay it as a lie? I didn’t even know about Bayonetta seven months ago!” 

The Sage paused at that, opting to start circling instead of replying. Bayonetta took the time to take stock of the situation; Damien was circling with the Sage whilst Luka was standing off near the exit he had appeared from. Loki was nowhere to be seen, but considering she had not heard anything from the boy in recent memory she assumed that he was fine.

“Enough tripe. If you are-” the Sage glanced towards her, then back to Damien. His words died out and he slowly returned his gaze back to her, focussing on the Angel. “What in the blazes is this!?”

“Whoever you are, Sage, you must know you are allied with the wrong person.” Hope stood up and a scythe formed in their hands. “We are assuming the Prophet has gotten his lies to you first.”

“The Prophet told me the truth of everything that has transpired in the five hundred years I was missing, Joy.” Each word was barbed with poison. “He has shown me what befell my family at the hands of the Umbra Witches; there is nothing any of you can do to tell me otherwise.”

Bayonetta perked up with a frown at that statement. She didn’t recall any Lumen family being torn apart by her clan, but at the same time she figured that every Lumen family was annihilated during the Clan Wars. It would be callous to dismiss the man’s claim, but at the same time she had personally done nothing in the overall War itself. Both herself and Mummy were imprisoned during the events.

But at least she had the knowledge that this was a displaced Sage and not another one that survived.

“But this is not a time for debate,” he pointed his twinblade at Damien. “Whatever you are, you stand in my path of revenge. Either move aside or share her fate.”

‘Stay with Hope.’ His voice echoed in her mind for the first time in months. ‘Let me deal with this.’

Bubby… She didn’t really know what to say. So, she opted for the obvious. You’re back.

He glanced at her with an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m sorry for not being here earlier.’

Bayonetta could tell that there was more to his tale than simply being late. Damien would not simply sit by for a full week if he had known that Jeanne had died. But now was definitely not the time. You can tell me about it later. Much later.

The katana burst into flame and Damien’s gaze hardened when it returned to the Sage. “Make me.”

The Lumen Sage flickered forward with a dive, thrusting forward with a stiletto-esque manoeuvre. Her brother twisted his wrist and parried the strike by slamming the katana into the glaive. The Sage continued his assault by transitioning into a flurry of strikes, starting with a backswing from the unaffected half. Damien twirled back and deflected each with light swings of the katana, not letting anything touch him.

Bayonetta remembered the training sessions she had seen with Jeanne and him; despite the harshness her sister had exhibited, they were paying off tremendously. 

Damien backflipped over a low swing and held his hand out. The twinblade halted and was nearly ripped from the hands of the Sage, who dismissed it with a flash of light. Fireballs formed behind the Sage and he thrust his palms out to throw them forward. There was a small flash of panic from her brother’s eyes, but he managed to regain a semblance of calm and wind replaced the fire. Waving the sword above his head, a tornado formed around him and the fireballs deflected off into the buildings. One strayed too close to her, but Hope slashed through it. The Angel stood guard in front of her, weapon held at the ready for anything else that came her way.

The tornado dissipated to show Damien charging up a spell in that staff of his. He did not get a chance to cast whatever it was as the Sage darted forward and used an old-fashioned punch to the temple to knock him off-balance. A second punch toppled him further back and the twinblade reappeared for an upwards strike that dragged itself up from the floor in a vertical slice. 

It was batted away with a flailing hand and Bayonetta raised an eyebrow; it seemed that he was still falling back into old habits when put under pressure. 

The Sage split his twinblade in two and began to pile on this pressure with a flurry of quick blows. Damien’s defence was still holding up, but she could tell it was crumbling with each passing second. All it would take is a millisecond and then her brother would be in a pickle. 

Rolling herself up to her feet, Bayonetta grimaced at the throb that pulsed from the wound in her leg and focussed herself onto the Sage. Running forward and eyeing his still damaged wrist, she flipped forward and slammed both heels into it. The immediate effect was devastating; a grunt of pain erupted from the Sage and he dropped one half of his glaive. Damien noticed the opportunity and followed through with a sweep of the Sharuba, battering the man away like a cricket ball. A wicked weave followed and the Sage flew into the stone wall with a very satisfying crunch. Bayonetta quickly moved to her brother’s side and held Love is Blue at the ready. 

The Sage stood up slowly, his body glowing slightly green with healing magic. He splayed out a palm and the dropped half of the glaive reappeared in his grip. Both halves were affixed back to each other and the weapon was twirled back until it was at the ready. Both parties stared each other down with neither giving the other the advantage. The man made to move forward, but pulled himself back at the last possible moment. Her first reaction was to believe it was a feint, but the way the Sage’s head lolled to the side made Bayonetta realise he was listening to someone else.

The Prophet, most likely.

“Hmph.” The glaive disappeared and the Sage dropped his arms until they were loosely by his side. “This is not finished, not by any margin!”

Damien sensed something and leaped forward with his katana held high above him. The Sage flickered and disappeared before he could land the blow. The only sounds were the echoing metallic ‘clang!’ of metal against stone and the small grunts of exertion when he pulled the sword from the floor. 

Quickly scanning over the rooftops around them, Bayonetta was quickly satisfied with the notion that the Sage had disappeared completely. She dropped her guns into Inferno and relaxed her posture.

It tensed again when she turned to Luka.

…

“What the fuck are you doing here!?”

Luka’s eyes darted towards the exit of the plaza briefly, but he decided against it. Swallowing, he faced the wrath of Bayonetta with bravery. That faltered the instant he saw her expression. 

“I asked you to stay behind because I wanted you to stay safe! Why are you-” Her entire body was shaking with fury. “You! Cheshire! Why!? Just why!?”

His voice was strained and fearful. “Bayonetta, I said I was going to help. I think that-”

“You think!?” Bayonetta’s voice shrilled into disbelief. “Cheshire, you attacked a fucking Lumen Sage and you are so fucking lucky he didn’t kill you on the spot!”

“I mean, if I’m a cat, I have nine lives…” Luk laughed nervously out of reflex. The murderous gaze of the Witch shut him up instantly. “Hey, I saved your life, right? That’s gotta count for something!”

“I do not need the stress of worrying about you on top of everything else. You were safe before; why!?”

“Cereza,” Damien called out. Both turned to him; one with fury, the other with relief. “I forced him to come along.”

“Did Luka tell you why I wanted him to stay behind?” She asked through her teeth.

The winged man lowered his eyes, obviously unable to meet the gaze of the furious woman. “He did. I chose to ignore it.”

Bayonetta whipped back to him. Her body language ran through a series of emotions and Luka wasn’t sure whether or not she was going to start screaming at him again. She did. “Did you at least explain why you weren’t here with me!?”

“I did! It’s just that he turned up looking like a zombie and, unless I was there to make sure he didn’t, he was going to kill himself to get here!” Luka gestured to the winged man. “Look-” Bayonetta’s hand twisted his ear and it instantly erupted into pain. “Ow! Hey!”

She dragged him to a nearby stone bench and sat him down. Within a heartbeat, she was dragging Damien along as well and then the winged man was next to him. Finally, Hope was dragged next to him by Bayonetta pulling them along by their singular ribbon. The Witch folded her arms and let her wrathful gaze settle upon him.

“Explain. Now.”

A symphony of noises erupted from the guilty trio. Judging by the flinch from Bayonetta, it was more of a blast of excuses. All three spoke over each other, trying to bargain their case.

“I was trying to make sure your brother was still alive when he reached here; if he knew where to go, he would’ve idiotically teleported half-way across the world!”

“The Devil May Cry crew are currently busy with a giant Demon tree, and that’s where I was! I only learned of everything that happened only about a day ago!”

Hope said something completely unintelligible, but Luka assumed it was still on the same page he and Damien were. 

Bayonetta held her hands out and cried out in frustration: “Alright! Quiet down!” She pointed at Damien first. “Where were you all this time?”

“Red Grave City.” He answered instantly. 

“Why were you there?”

“Nero lost his Devil Bringer a month- his Demon arm,” Damien explained at her confused expression. “I was there and also offered to help out with getting the arm back and stopping the person who stole it from turning an entire city into a botanical garden!”

“And you did that for a month!?” Her eyebrow raised in disbelief and he instantly shook his head.

“For five seconds. The Demon subjugated all of us and turned each of us into a Demon to do his dirty work. I was a…” Damien hesitated.

“You were a?” Bayonetta prompted. 

“I was a horse.”

“You were a horse!?”

“I was freed literally a day ago! Then I learned that Jeanne had-” his voice became choked up, as if his throat was swelling and closing in upon itself. “That Jeanne had died and all I had done to help is sweet fuck all!”

The fury in the Witch’s expression was very slowly dying down, replaced with understanding. 

“I was taken back to New York by Ada and I met up with Luka not long after. We both decided to go to Paradiso for some more answers.” 

The understanding was lost under another cloud of fury when she turned her attention to him. “Pray tell, Cheshire, why did you think this, going to fucking Paradiso, was the best idea to keep yourself safe!?”

“We came to the conclusion that nowhere was safe. And again, Damien looked like a zombie when he arrived in my living room. I don’t think you would have appreciated it if you had to go back in and rescue your brother mere minutes after rescuing your sister,” Luka explained, emboldened by his friend’s courage and bravado. “If I didn’t stop him, he would have simply tried to teleport across entire countries to reach Noatun.”

“Also, why would you leave him completely unprotected?” Damien spoke up. “If you really wanted to keep him safe, wouldn’t the Gates of Hell be a much better choice?”

Bayonetta’s gaze slipped from his and she lingered on a broken piece of stone. “I suppose that is logical…”

Hope then said something and her eyes snapped to theirs. “What do you mean?”

“What Hope means is that Paradiso is basically overrun. The Angels we know are very limited and everything else is his creation.” Damien supplanted.

Bayonetta was silent for almost a minute. Luka assumed she was having a conversation with her own patron, but she also could be deliberating over their words herself. She might have been a fighter first and foremost, but the Witch was very intelligent and didn’t act upon impulse if she could help it. 

“I suppose there are much, much worse places for you to be hiding.” She slowly said, turning back to him. “But you are currently in Purgatorio and that’s where all the Angels are.”

“Yeah- hey!” Her hand grabbed his ear once more and the pair walked through a portal back into the mortal realm. He attempted to batter her grip away, but it was tight. “That hurts!”

“Do you want to know how much your death would hurt?” Bayonetta glared at him. Her hand released him and he clutched at his ear with soothing rubs. “Extremely.”

“Look, I’m sorry-” Luka’s words were cut off when Bayonetta grabbed and pulled him into an embrace. He stood there, completely confused at her actions. Not knowing what else to do, he let her cling to him.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that ever again.” Her own were thick with emotion. It was very uncharacteristic, but Luka forced himself to remember that Bayonetta was not the woman he met half a year ago. “I don’t know if I could have stopped the Sage if he wanted to kill you.”

“Hey, I don’t think he ever wanted to attack me.” He gently began to shimmy his way out of her grip. Pushing her back as best he could, he gave her a cocky smirk. “Besides, you do know who I am?”

“An idiot.”

Well, she was correct. But you had to take risks at some point, right? He didn’t want to push the issue and decided to acquiesce to her. “I guess.”

“Good.” Bayonetta took a few steps back and looked him up and down. “I like the hat. Goes with the outfit.”

“You brought me this hat.” Luka frowned at her; this was extremely uncharacteristic by any of his experiences with her. Was she nervous or something? 

“Oh.” She shook her head and sighed. “You’re not off the hook, not by a long shot, but I’m less angry at you. At some point you’ll need to make it up to me.”

He swallowed down a spike of fear and wondered just what she meant by that.

“We can worry about that later.” Damien announced, interrupting and thankfully closing the moment, walking through a tear in reality. Hope followed him as well, recasting that translation spell. “Right now, we have to find Jeanne.”

That definitely broke her out of her stupor and Bayonetta was back to normal with a flick of her hair. “Well, brother dearest, that is the goal of this expedition. In order to do that, we must find the Gates of Hell. I had a guide to show me where to go, but it seems he has disappeared.”

“That’s right!” Luka snapped his fingers as the memory came back to him. “Where’s the other kid that was with you?”

“You know?” Bayonetta tilted her head with a sly eye. “Were you stalking me again, Cheshire?”

“Hey, he was dressed in a bright orange and yellow outfit! That’s very hard to miss!”

“Who is he?” Damien asked.

“He never gave me his name when we met, but then again he doesn’t remember anything about himself. According to the Sage we just ran off, his name is Loki.” She explained, her hand lowering down to cast a healing spell on her thigh. “He can be pretty elusive, so I’ll find him and drag him out so he can introduce himself.”

“Wait, a kid with amnesia is your guide?” Luka could scarcely believe the irony of it all. Shaking his head, he glanced around the plaza and found nothing that he could recognise as the kid. “Talk about déjà vu.”

“How can he be elusive?” Damien folded his arms and Luka noticed something sitting on his shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”

“There he is!” Bayonetta stepped over to her brother and a small squirrel in an orange felt cape jumped into her outstretched hand. It darted along until it stood on her shoulder and was facing the three. “Everyone, meet Loki.”

“Uhh… That’s a squirrel.” The winged man pointed out the obvious.

“He’s got a cape!” Bayonetta petted the squirrel and rubbed her face against it, much to the animal’s very obvious discomfort. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“That doesn’t explain the kid.” Luka rubbed his chin, feeling sorry for the poor thing. 

“Is the child this squirrel?” Hope asked.

“Correct!” The squirrel had enough of Bayonetta’s antics and slipped free from her grip. He glided to the ground and turned to her with his arms folded and one foot tapping on the ground. The Witch laughed and gestured to him. “Go on! I’m assuming you know how to change back and forth now.”

It grabbed at something around its neck and twisted. The boy from earlier flashed into existence with a short, but blinding white light to herald it. “For Aesir’s sake, love, I am not an animal! Stop petting me like you would a cat!”

Love? 

“So this is Loki?” Damien walked over to the boy and gave him a quick look over. “You’re different.”

“I could say the very same thing about you, mate.” The boy fired back. “What’s with the wing? The ridiculous outfit? You have no style.”

“I was going to ask about that.” Bayonetta followed up, smirking. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“It was short notice and Nero didn’t have anything better!” He defensively held his hands up. “But we are discussing you, not me!”

“Well, who are all these people?” Loki folded his arms and began tapping his foot, a complete mirror image of the squirrel mere moments before. “Friends of yours?”

“That is my brother, Damien. The Angel is Hope,” the aforementioned Angel waved their hand when Bayonetta mentioned them. “And the silly man is Cheshire.”

“Hey!” Luka finally found his voice and he broke himself out of the very strange reverie. “That’s not my name! It’s Luka! L-U-K-A! Why do you insist on something else?”

“Alright. It’s nice to meet you Damien, Hope,” the boy grinned evilly. “And Cheshire.”

This had to be a small part of revenge from her. Swallowing down his frustration, Luka shrugged and tried to put on an indifferent front. “Well, who are you?”

“That is the deal, Cheshire; I don’t know.” Loki shrugged. “I just woke up here one day with the mountain telling me to go to it. And now I’ve got Ma’am over here-”

“What did I tell you about calling me Ma’am?” She cut in, her tone actually offended. “I’m not that old!”

“Ar- Bayonetta, you are currently six hundred and twenty-two years old.” Hope naively said. A glare was sent in their direction and they frowned in response. “What?”

“That’s old enough to be my…” Loki counted out on his fingers, shrugging with defeat when he ran out. “Too many times to count great grandmother. Definitely a Ma’am in my books.”

Luka noticed that Damien was snickering. His eyes had lightened up considerably and he felt that no matter what Bayonetta may think about the current situation, this was worth it. A happy Damien was much better than the despondent one who fell into his living room.

He could try to hide emotions all he wanted; Luka unfortunately knew what he was looking for.

“But anyway, I’m here to guide Ma’am to the Gates. In doing so we have run into a lot of robot Angels, a man who courts strangely and my name,” the boy continued, gesturing to himself with a thumb. “Loki. Nice to meetcha!”

“Enough talk about my age; where do we need to go to find the Gates of Hell?” The Witch changed the subject with a small hint of fluster. 

“Are they coming too? I might need to charged extra for a troupe.” The boy then chuckled at both his own joke and Bayonetta’s reaction. 

Damien grew a little more serious and walked forward. “I’m guessing there’s more to this story than an amnesiac guide.”

“There certainly is! You see, mate, I just told you the gist of it. What I need to figure out is why that damn mountain is so important to me. With any luck she’ll be helping me figure out the rest of me.” Loki shrugged and folded his arms. “My only real condition for being a guide is for you to somehow figure me out. If you can.”

“That makes three mortals here amnesiacs.” Hope rested their hands on their hips and surveyed them. “Damien was stripped of his memories clean, whereas Bayonetta only had hers suppressed. The question is, which are you?”

“I would much prefer it if my memories were salvageable.” Loki’s posture sagged. “But I guess I’ll have no real choice in the matter…”

…

When Bayonetta saw him for the first time and smiled, Damien felt the exact same as he did when they reunited in the graveyard. He had enough anxiety about essentially everything that it was a huge relief when she exceeded his expectations. It wasn’t enough to fully dispel them and he remained on edge whenever she looked in his direction.

The Lumen Sage was a completely different question. He had not fought Balder at any point during both the journey and his imprisonment, so he had no real reference as to how a Sage actually performed. He didn’t do too badly, but at the same time it felt that he was fighting against a foe who wasn’t really trying. Once his sister had gotten involved, the Sage simply left. Whether it was because the odds were firmly against him or that he got bored-

Why was a Lumen Sage even attacking her? Hope had told them that Balder would have been reviled amongst the Clan, so-

He should’ve slapped himself. The Sage literally had said that the Prophet had essentially ordered him to attack her. There was a lot more to unpack with everything the man had said, but he wanted to focus on the here and now. 

The boy, introduced as Loki, was something completely different. Despite his small and unassuming appearance, Damien could sense immense power within him. It, just like the Sage’s presence, was far too familiar for comfort. 

He turned to the one person who could tell him: Do you know who the kid is?

‘I… I think I do.’ Khepri sounded completely unsure. ‘I recognise the power, but it’s completely foreign.’

Can you tell me what the power is?

‘It’s that of a Primordius.’ 

That made him double take. He had met two- now three, if he included Rodin, of the nine and the only one he wasn’t completely sure of was Drakenguard’s. Even when asked, the weaponsmith had confirmed that the only three in this universe were Sheba, Jubileus and now himself. 

‘He isn’t Drakenguards. The Harbinger of Order is not that.’ She motioned to the boy and gave him a knowing look. ‘Perhaps we need to take a closer peek?’

Would that even work?

‘The mind is an intricate puzzle. It only needs to be solved.’

“I would much prefer it if my memories were salvageable.” Loki’s posture sagged and Damien returned his attention to him. “But I guess I’ll have no real choice in the matter…”

“I mean, I’m a telepath.” He folded his arms in mock thought. “I could take a look inside.”

“Would that even work?” Bayonetta echoed his earlier thoughts. 

Damien smirked and repeated Khepri’s words: “The mind is an intricate puzzle. It only needs to be solved.”

“Khepri told you to say that.” Luka piped up and he shrugged.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Khepri’s okay?” The Witch cried out. “Since when!?”

“We can focus on that later.” Damien gestured to Loki and shook his head. “We need to get this sorted first.”

Bayonetta grimaced, but didn’t press the issue. “I understand trying to help the little one-”

“Hey!” Loki exclaimed, but both ignored him.

“-but won’t something like this take a while? You are not exactly the most proficient of the Mind Arts and we need to reach the Gates of Hell!” She continued with a slight hint of frustration. 

Khepri believes he is something akin to a Primordius. He decided to keep this under wraps and contacted his sister telepathically.

‘What!?’ 

He excludes the same power as one. To me, that’s why he feels so familiar. Bayonetta rubbed her temples and closed her eyes in pain. Damien pressed on, but made sure not to actually hurt her. If we help him, we might get a very powerful ally on our side.

‘And potentially solve parts of the mystery of this place.’ Her eyes opened and they met him with a nod. “Alright then, sure. As long as the little one is fine with it.”

Loki ran into his field of vision, arms held up and waving frantically. “Yes, the little one is very much not fine with this! What do you even plan to do, birdman?”

“Literally just that,” he explained calmly. “I want to have a look inside your mind and see if I can figure out why you have no memories.”

“Are you sure you can do that, mate?”

Damien smiled to himself with a little pride. “I managed to free someone from the grips of a powerful telepath with a technique even he couldn’t undo. If I find nothing, then there’s nothing I can really do. But if I can do something, then I can try.”

Loki considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Aw, fuck it. What do I really have to lose? Memories I don’t have? Go ahead, mate.”

Placing a finger on his temple, he gently brushed against the boy’s psyche and briefly hesitated at the wall that dominated and encompassed everything. Swallowing and steeling his fear, Damien pushed in.

A blinding white flash cracked back and he flinched. Blue began to cloud his vis-

…

“ G R E E T I N G S  B R O T H E R . ”

“A warm welcome to you, Singularity. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“ I T  I S  M O S T  U N F O R T U N A T E ,  B U T  W E  D O  N O T  K N O W  W H Y .  Y O U  W I S H E D  T O  S P E A K  W I T H  U S ? ”

“Yes. It concerns our sibling, Argosax.”

“ W H A T  I S  A R G O S A X  D O I N G ?  D O E S  I T  C O N C E R N  U S ? ”

“It does. They spoke to us not long ago about… betraying our cause and seizing power for themselves. For some asinine reason they believe only they can lead us to survival. You haven’t been attending our meetings or gatherings recently, so I decided that I would like a less biased opinion.”

“ D O  T H E Y  W A N T  T O  I N H I B I T  M Y  E X P E R I M E N T S ? ”

“As far as I know, it would. But at the same time, all they want is to make sure constant changes of our order do not occur and potentially upset the balance of reality. I’m not sure if I’m being honest with you.”

“ T H E N  T H I S  C O N V E R S A T I O N  I S  I R R E L E V A N T . ”

“What? Argosax plans to betray our order and you call it irrelevant!?”

“ M Y  R E A L M  A N D  D O M I N I O N  I S  O V E R  R E A L I T Y .  I F  T H E  HA R B I N G E R  O F  C A L A M I T Y  W I S H E S  T O  S U B J U GA T E  M Y  W O R L D ,  T H E Y  W I L L  F I N D  T H A T  T H E I R  V I S I O N  O F  R E A L I T Y  I S  A L R E A D Y  M E T  H E R E . ”

“I’m going to be a little honest here, Singularity; your world is a little creepy.”

“ I R R E L E V A N T . ”

“It is relevant! You should know that they despise Kathreftis Sympan’s very existence. Your world is exactly what they would-”

“ W H A T  I S  K A T H R E F T I S  S Y M P A N ? ”

“You don’t know!? When was the last time you attended anything?”

“ I  D O  N O T  R E C A L L .  I  H A V E  B E E N  W O R K I N G  U N D E R  M Y  P R E S C R I B E D  R O L E .  E V I D E N T L Y  T H E  O T H E R S  H A V E  N O T . ”

“Are you aware that we have new siblings?”

“  W E  H A V E  N E W  S I B L I N G S ? ”

“Great. But I suppose they aren’t supposed to be making their presence known…”

 “ Y O U  A R E  G E T T I N G  O F F  T O P I C . ”

“Sorry, sorry. Look, just what should I do? Argosax is my direct sibling and ours too; I feel terrible for even confiding this to you.”

“ Y O U R  E M P A T H Y  I S  H O L D I N G  Y O U  B A C K  F R O M  R E C O G N I S I N G  T H E  C O R R E C T  V E R D I C T .  S U C H  I S  Y O U R  N A T U R E .  I T  I S  N O T H I N G  T O  B E  A S H A M E D  O F . ”

“I know. It’s just… they’re my family. This ends either with banishment or death, and I don’t want either of that. But if I don’t do anything, Argosax could ruin everything that was tasked to us.”

“ T H E  V E R D I C T  I S  L O G I C A L  T H E N .  T H E  G R E A T  W O R K  I S  M O R E  I M P O R T A N T  T H A N  T H E  B O N D S  O F  F A M I L Y .  D I D  W E  M O U R N  W H E N  W E  L O S T  S A N G U I S  S T E L L A  O F  T H E  L A N D S  B E T W E E N ? ”

“I did-”

“ W E  D I D  N O T .  A R G O S A X  M E A N S  T O  U P S E T  T H E  B A L A N C E  O F  Y O U R  A N D  O U R  O T H E R  S I B L I N G S  R E A L I T I E S ?  T H E N   T H E Y  M U S T  B E  S T O P P E D  A N D  R E P L A C E D . ”

“Is there no other option? I refuse to condemn them if there is an alternative.”

“ W H A T  D O E S  Y O U R  L O G I C  T E L L  Y O U ? ”

“…”

“It has to be done.”

“ A S  I  E X P E C T E D . ”

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time-”

“ N O N S E N S E .  I  G E T  L I T T L E  V I S I T O R S  A S  I T  I S .  M Y  E X P E R I M E N T S  C A N  W A I T  U N T I L  T H E  E N D  O F  T I M E  I F  N E E D  B E .  I T  W A S . . .  G O O D  T O  V I S U A L I S E  Y O U  A G A I N . ”

“I’ll take my leave. Don’t be too surprised if you are summoned to Ginnungagup in the near future.”

“ A E S I R . ”

“Yes?”

“ D O  N O T  F E E L  N E G A T I V E  A B O U T  T H I S .  A R G O S A X  H A S  A L W A Y S  B E E N  A M B I T U O U S ;  I T  I S  O N L Y  N A T U R A L  T H A T  I T  G R E W  T O O  M U C H  F O R  T H E I R  O W N  G O O D . ”

…

The cloud faded to reveal all four humans and Angel standing there, completely confused. A quick glance at both Bayonetta and Luka gave Damien the impression that they had seen what he had too. 

“What was that?” Hope whispered, breaking the silence. 

“I think the better question is just who were they,” Bayonetta muttered, then turned to address the small elephant in the plaza. “Little one, just who-”

“Don’t call me little one!” Loki fired back, his eyes wide in fury. “I have a name and it’s-”

The abrupt halting of his speech raised an eyebrow. Damien folded his arms and tilted his head slightly, prompting the boy to continue: “It’s…?” 

“It’s-” He swallowed, his expression falling and curling into confusion. Then terror. Then despair.

“Aesir.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9 – To the Cathedral

…

“My name is Aesir. I am the God of Chaos, Primordius of the Alphaverse, Harbinger of Chaos, or whatever else you want to call me. And you are?”

…

Once the words slipped through his lips, Loki knew with absolute certainty that they were true. 

His name was Aesir, but at the same time it meant nothing. His identity was Loki and, while that did fit and felt right, at the same time it wasn’t. Nothing from his memory piped up with context for the name Aesir and nothing in the immediate area was lighting him up with any ideas. For all he knew, Aesir to him was the same as Avalon; meaningless and pointless, but something he understood as integral to him.

…Avalon wasn’t a real place, right?

An outcry from everyone else gained his attention and his inner musings on identity ceased. Each of their shocked and confused expressions told him that maybe the name wasn’t so foreign after all. There was no starting point; after two seconds from his declaration everyone was shouting. Both at him and each other.

“Aesir!? As in, the God of Chaos, Aesir!?” Luka was the first to speak, immediately stating his mind. “That’s… well, fuck the last time anyone spoke of Aesir was literally in the legends of legends. My father’s research barely understood what Aesir was, let alone who he is!”

“Aesir is a very old fairytale, little one.” Bayonetta folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe Jeanne, who devoured ancient fairytales and history, knows anything beyond his disappearance. I barely remember them, so how do you know?”

“We second Luka’s thoughts,” Hope was watching him with confusion and uncertainty. Loki swallowed and endured the Angel’s gaze almost as good as they delivered. “You are not the God of Chaos, yet you claim to be. How?”

“Uhh… who is Aesir?” Damien asked, completely and utterly confused. 

“The God of Chaos, of course.” Bayonetta smirked. 

“Well, I gathered that,” he rolled his eyes. “But what does that actually mean? What is Chaos?”

“Chaos is the mortal realm, mate. First of the trinities to be formed and my realm to look after,” Loki spoke up for the first time, taking solace in that this was something he could explain. “Well, was my realm. It belongs to someone called the Infinite One, if I remember correctly.”

“Infinite On- oh right, Rodin.” Damien nodded and folded his arms. “Well, Loki, what do you think of all of this?”

What did he think?

Well, where did he begin? 

Loki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of anything. The visions he had seen had explained… well… nothing, but the latest had given him something to work with. The Sage had told him his name was Loki; this had told him his name was Aesir. Neither felt correct, but both fit. 

The visions- no, memories were starting to form some sort of coherency. Loki was clearly the main character, but the others he did not recognise at all. This Argosax fellow was a reoccurring character and was clearly the antagonist. The rest of the ‘Primordius’ never really stuck around long enough to actually leave more than a basic impression, but he figured that if more memories resurfaced then he would figure them out.

But that led him back to the original train of thought; just what was he? A God of Chaos? He was a kid, wasn’t he? Well, a very old kid. Loki knew that he wasn’t exactly young and that something ancient ran through his veins. A ‘Primordius’ was…

Wait, what was a Primordius?

“Well, I don’t actually know what the God of Chaos is,” the human spoke up, dragging Loki out of his tangled mind. “But I can extrapolate that it probably means the God of the mortal realm. Some texts I’ve read refers to ours as that. You ever-”

“Not really, Cheshire. They only really taught me combat and none of our history. You’d need to ask Jeanne about that.” Bayonetta folded her arms and sighed. “But she’s still sceptical about everything. Most of what could be considered history she believes is nothing more than a fairy tale.”

“Hey!” Loki piped up, finding offense at that. “Look, this Jeanne bird better be more accepting of ‘fairy tales’ if she’s going to be dealing with Primordius in the near future.”

The winged man turned to him with a frown. “I barely believe in the Primordius myself, and I’ve personally met two. Bayonetta has met three and Hope serves one. How the fuck do you know of them?”

“And I don’t really know what to make of all of this,” the Witch continued. “I know of them, it’s just very difficult to accept them.”

“If you are referencing the Primordius, then you would know that Aesir was one of the Trinity that rules this world?” The Angel addressed him directly, their eyeless gaze somehow containing more weight than the three humans combined. It seemed someone was taking this whole situation more seriously than he expected. “Aesir ruled over the world in the old tales, like Jubileus with Paradiso and Sheba with Inferno.”

“Sheba? Mundus is the ruler of Inferno.” Loki paused and thought about that statement for a second. “Wait, just how did I know that?”

“We could not explain that, but you are outdated.” Hope tilted their head with deliberation. “Mundus was overthrown twenty years ago at the hand of the sons of Sparda-”

“Sparda! I know that name! Why do I know that name?” He pointed to the mortal. “Are you of Sparda’s lineage?”

“Uhhh…” Luka stammered. “No.”

“Dante is,” the Witch noted with a scowl.

“This is all irrelevant. What we need to know is why you, of all things, believe you are Aesir. The God disappeared several millennia ago without a trace, with no explanation given.” Hope gestured to him, then to the surrounding buildings. “Do you have this answer?”

“Does it look like I have ‘this answer’, love?” Loki fired back. It was a little presumptuous of this Angel that he would know everything and everything mere seconds after finally remembering his own name. Maybe. “Give a guy a chance to figure something out before you tell him what he needs to have already known.”

Bayonetta sighed and walked forward, grabbing everyone’s attention as she did. “This is leading us nowhere. The idea is to give you answers for your own problems in exchange for aid, but it’s just leading to more questions. None of which helps me with finding the Gates.”

“What do you propose then, love?” Loki decided to copy her movements, prancing forward with his hands on his hips. “We ignore the deal and work on your half for now?”

“Exactly that. Time is a valuable resource that I really can’t afford to lose,” she nodded. “Whereas you can be solved without too much rushing.”

“I mean, I guess you are right,” he shrugged. The woman stuck in Inferno wouldn’t remain that way for much longer, especially if anything got a hand on her. Loki absolutely wanted to get his memories back, but a strange thought was telling him that something had broken free; something had changed and his priorities must too. “Best not to keep her waiting.”

Bayonetta raised her eyebrows. “You’re giving up on yourself like that? Odd.”

“Well, I just think we have better things to be doing.”

The man named Damien coughed and both turned to him. “Memories are no joking matter, Loki.”

“Aesir, mister bird man,” Loki reminded him on reflex, then shook his head. “But why does that feel so wrong to say?”

“Aesir…” he thoughtfully muttered, wandering away with one finger tapping on his chin. The Witch watched her brother leave and shook her head.

“Always worrying about everything…” she whispered. “But about you, little one, he is right. I lost my memories at a young age, probably a few years older than you look to be. Once I woke up, twenty-one years ago, I had no idea who I was and merely was along for the ride for most of that time.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Loki asked the obvious question.

“Memory is how one defines themselves. Both Luegray and Onythyll-”

Bayonetta gagged and shook her head. “Please don’t call me that. Cereza or Bayonetta; just not that name.”

The Angel tilted their head. “Cereza, he is still your father and that is still your-”

“He is not my father! My father is not a-” the words died out and she shook her head. “Biologically he may be, but fuck him.”

The troupe fell into silence at the outburst. Damien had cast a worried glance at his sister, but once she had visible calmed down, he turned away and continued to ponder. Luka shrugged and continued on; “From what I’m gathering, maybe, is that Bayonetta had very little to work with in regards to who she was when she woke up twenty years ago.”

“How important was this? There’s no prophecy or anything involving Umbra Witches,” he stated, confused. “You’re just the holders and protectors of the Eyes of the World, right?”

“There is, actually. I was, and possibly still am, the most important woman on Earth,” Bayonetta stated with an ironic grin. “I was born from the union of a Lumen Sage and Umbra Witch. The Prophecy itself proclaimed that two of these children of light and dark were destined to either awake the Creator or unleash the Destroyer. If you are meant to be Aesir, then we need to find out what is missing in those memories of yours-”

“That’s it!” 

The volume of the shout caused him to flinch, but Loki was curious as to why the man was shouting in the first place. The answer came as soon as the thought left his mind, with Damien running back over. The man’s eyes were alight . “That’s where I remember Aesir from! The Prophecy!”

“The Prophecy?” Loki voiced his confusion. “What prophecy? The same one that Bayonetta is talking about?”

“Yes! The Prophecy of Loptr, Agent of Aesir.” Damien explained, then frowned. “But who’s Loptr?”

Loptr.

Jagged pain ripped through his being and he found his hands gripping his temples.

Loptr. 

He collapsed to his knees and screamed in pain. His head was splitting and memories were rushing out.

Lop-

…

The boy in the blue hood stood at the end of time, staring down at the precipice with his arms crossed. Loki stepped beside him and watched as universes collided with one another, driven together by the endless masses of the true enemy. His expression fell with each explosion of life and reality; his psyche broke every passing second and whatever hope remained was dwindling to despair.

“So, this is how it all ends. All has become one and life extinguished forever.” The boy in the blue hood sighed with annoyance. “It is amazing how our arrogance led to this. None of our siblings wanted to take responsibility for their own actions, so now all that happens is nothing.”

“Why couldn’t they put their differences aside for just one second?” Loki wondered out loud. The final meeting they would ever have was before everything went… well, to shit just proved to the pair that it was still nothing more than a glorified circus act. Each Primordius had their own reasonings to not reawaken the Creator, and frankly it pissed him off to no end that none of them had the foresight that not acting was going to end everything. 

“You know why. Conceited and self-centred are our brothers,” he spat with disgust. “Nothing more could spur them to action than the annihilation of everything, and yet they could not stop being themselves for one eternity.”

“We can’t blame them-”

“We can and we will. Their inaction caused all of this,” he gestured to the view in front of them. “Singularity won. Our purpose was to construct and guide this all to a utopia. Is this a utopia to you?”

“This is hardly the time to gloat, Loptr,” Loki growled. “Do we have any ideas to fix this?”

“Fixing this? We are not our Creators and we are not at the power we would need to be at in order to create any world.” Loptr turned to him, his grey eyes narrowing. “Your impulsive, short-sighted nature will not help in a situation like this, brother.”

A moment passed while he tried to keep calm. Loki’s first impulse was to snap and berate his other half for their derisiveness, but he knew that it would be only proving Loptr right. “Alright then, do you have any ideas?”

“We can’t fix this.” Loptr gestured to the explosion of colours of the Compression in front of them. “Singularity is too powerful. Any attempt, as shown by Placidusax and Philemon, is fruitless. At best all we can do is wait for the inevitability when they remember the Records of Time.”

“There has to be something we can do! We didn’t lose our power for a reason, because we aren’t finished with it yet! Our Creators told us-” 

Loptr’s eyes flashed with fury. “We lost! What about that do you not understand, brother? If you think our power stands any chance, then you can go and fight Singularity. Wait, you cannot! Your power is that of pacifism and order. You can be absorbed as well and Singularity will be one more step closer to being the ultimate power in existence!”

“He already is. What we need to do is use our heads! We are smart, right?” Loki argued. “There has to be another solution other than battling them. There has to be!”

A rumble shook the area violently, nearly tossing the pair to the ground. Loki’s eyes trailed behind him to see more and more of the Pillars of Time collapse into dust. Only a handful remained; the Sovereign One, the Prophetic One, the Arch Eve and the Heiress of Destiny.

“Our allies inside the Compression are still fighting,” Loptr muttered. His tone was finally starting to crack, fear leaking through. “But it is a mere inevitability at this point of time. We have lost.”

Time… 

An idea was beginning to form inside his mind. A wild, batshit crazy idea. An idea that even the Creators would frown at. One that Loptr would definitely refuse. 

There was no harm in trying. And what other choice did they have?

“We don’t have to lose.” Loki turned back to the Compression, watching as flares of green, red and purple burst out in colourful arcs that contrasted the grey void around it. “We never did.”

“What in Avalon’s name is that meant to mean?” Loptr hissed. 

“Our power includes domain over time. We could use that! We could stop all of this from ever occurring in the first place!”

His other half reacted how he expected him to. He took a step back, his face paling and eyes widening. “Loki, you know that interfering with the timeline is forbidden!”

“We forbid it after we understood the consequences. It is our rules, not anyone else’s! We can break our own, self-imposed rules because there’s no one else to enforce them!” Loki pressed on, thoughts whirring and whirling like cogs in a clock. “We have no other choice!”

“We do have a choice!”

“Yes, it’s either we do or we don’t.” He rolled his eyes.

“If you believe so, brother.”

Loki gestured to the air in frustration. “Look, either we do nothing and watch Bayonetta and Jeanne die, along with everything else, or we do something and risk something that we know has no real consequence to it.”

“There are very real consequences, Loki.” Loptr shook his head. “We still do not fully understand what we wrought upon the world when we finally experimented with time. This could be one of them!”

“What if it is not?” He mimicked his brother’s actions. “What if the only reason this is happening is because we could have prevented it, but due to our own arrogance we did not?”

“This all is occurring because of our arrogance! Do not make me repeat myself further!” 

This was getting nowhere. Loki swallowed down his frustration and restored a mediocre amount of patience. “Loptr, brother; please. We have nothing to lose. As you’ve said plenty of times, we’ve already lost. It cannot get worse!”

The Heiress of Destiny’s pillar collapsed behind them. A troubled expression passed over Loptr’s face and his other half glanced back at the remaining three pillars. The only three remaining beings left alive. 

He was so close. “All we need to do is prevent this. We do not need to touch any other problem; you’ve made it quite clear that our decision is final and life can find their own path. But this? Annihilated by a force completely beyond their understanding and power? That is our responsibility and we have advocated for that for far too long. It is why we split in the first place!”

Understanding then passed through Loptr’s face and he nodded. “Our responsibility was to give humanity a choice. Letting them be coerced to a fate beyond their control is against what we stood for.”

“Exactly! Do we want our split, our sacrifice, to be completely meaningless?” Loki smiled in triumph. “We can do this!”

Loptr spread his hands out wide and four cards appeared in between his fingers. Crossing them in front of his chest, he tossed them out and they flew into an octagonal pattern. A click of his fingers heralded each card halting in its path. Loki understood what he had to do next and grabbed a card from the air. Upon its face was a green-skinned woman standing back-to-back with a man with a single black wing. He had never figured out the meaning of this card, or why it was included in his repertoire, but a funny feeling had him anticipating its use was now.

The card was thrown into the centre of the octagon, flying into place as the other eight before it. Blue light from the exterior ring lasered through the centre card, burning it into a swirl of blue energy. The ring began to spin, pulling and enlarging the energy into the centre into a blue portal. 

“How far do we need to go back?” Loptr asked, moving until he was standing beside him. Loki gave the question some thought; he had completely forgotten that detail.

“We need to make sure we never run into our previous selves. I have no idea what consequence would befall us, and it’s better that we don’t learn if there is one than test if there could be,” he reasoned, voicing his logic as it came to him. “But we need to make sure Singularity never falls upon this path again.”

“We would need to go back to the time of Aesir. We need to investigate when Singularity fell into madness and how.” Loptr looked at him with indecipherable stoicism. “If we need to take another loop to determine this and plan how to prevent it, then we will.”

“I agree.” Loki raised and twisted his hand, and the portal shifted with it. “We’ll return before Argosax fell. That way we can plan around our split and hope that this is more than enough time to investigate.”

“I have already accounted for that possibility.” 

“You have?” Loki glanced to Loptr with surprise. “How?”

Something lodged itself in his throat and breathing became impossible. Loptr stood there, hand outstretched, with pity in his eyes. Loki reached up and his fingers brushed a card for a brief second before he collapsed down to his knees. Everything was becoming so much harder.

“Brother?” he managed to spit out. Blood flowed out of his mouth with the word, spilling and staining the Records of Time. A cold sensation was growing from his throat, only balanced out by the burning fury of betrayal. 

“You are a liability. You would not be able to return to the past and prevent yourself from meddling,” Loptr lowered his arm. “And you know it.”

“…w…w…why?”

“You took on our positive traits, to the highest extreme. We return to the past and you will not stop until every problem is solved.” He began to walk towards the portal. “We have one goal; prevent Singularity. You would not stop at that.”

But that wasn’t a bad thing! Solving people’s problems was something the pair of them had always done. It was why they had given up the power-

“Do not fret or worry. I will prevent this. You gave me the perfect idea and I will undertake it alone.” Loptr arrived at the portal and turned around. “I am sorry for needing to do this, but thank you for your sacrifice. It will not go in vain.”

Loki collapsed to the ground, his face landing in the pool of his own blood. His vision was fading, but he tried to fight the inevitability. 

“Loptr!” he screamed with whatever he had left. His other half sighed and turned away. The portal closed after him.

Flopping over, he watched as The Arch Eve’s pillar crumbled…

Then his own.

…

The vision faded once again. The blue fog dispersed to reveal the - boy? Loki? Aesir? -whoever he was, kneeling on the floor with his hands slowly slackening their death grip on his temples. 

Bayonetta had no idea what to say about that. A quick glance to the other three told her everything she needed to know; they were just as confused as her.

‘Did we really see the future?’ Damien’s voice echoed in her mind. She wanted to say yes, because Sheba knows only what they had just seen. But at the same time almost everything was foreign to her. Singularity? Loptr? Both were completely meaningless names.

I don’t know. Khepri or Butterfly might know-

‘I also do not know.’ Her patron’s voice was unsettled with doubt. ‘The names and events are completely foreign to me, as they are to all of you.’

‘Khepri says the same,’ her brother confirmed after a few seconds of silence. ‘She’s heard of Loptr, the same way we have, but Singularity and this whole business about the Compression is nothing she’s familiar with.’

Fantastic. Another mystery to add upon the pile that had spawned in the last week. 

“Hey… Umm…” Luka spoke up, his voice quiet. “Did we just watch the future?”

“Either that or it is a nightmare…” Bayonetta muttered, letting her eyes trail back to Loki. “Any idea, little one?”

“I don’t know! You tell me, love!” the boy burst out. He painfully stood up and glared at him. “I don’t have a fucking clue what is going on, except that I need to go to the God-forsaken Mountain!”

Damien’s eyes narrowed and he regarded the boy with annoyance. “You don’t need to get angry-”

“Mate, why does anyone here I think I have any answers!? I have no idea about anything!” Loki was beginning to back away. “So stop asking! I don’t know who Aesir is, I don’t know who Loptr is and a I certainly don’t fucking know who Singularity is! I barely understand who I am, for Fae’s sake, and I’m beginning to think whatever I might know is just the teeniest tip of the iceberg!”

“Little one-” Bayonetta started.

“My name is Aesir!” Loki instantly frowned. “No, it’s Loki! It’s… Fuck!”

The boy collapsed back down again, hands back on his head. Damien made to step forward, but she waved him off and approached him warily. Former God or not, a situation like this would be unsettling, if not outright terrifying, for anyone. She knew better than most.

‘What is the plan then?’

She kept her eyes trained on him. What he needs is to become centred again. I rejected Cereza due to who she is; all he needs is the same question asked of him.

‘What question?’ came the sceptical response.

This one. “Alright, little one, who do you want to be?”

The boy stared at her, baffled by her question. “What do you mean? I’m an amnesiac person who for some reason believes he is a God-”

“You know how I told you my name was Cereza or Bayonetta? Six months ago, I was asked who I was. The identity that was taken from me or the one I built for myself when I had none. Neither of them is the true me.” Bayonetta knelt down and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “These two identities, Loki and Aesir? They do not define you.”

His hands lowered. “But they are me. I can feel it in my very existence that I am both Aesir and Loki.”

“I can offer a solution,” Luka called out. Everyone turned to him and he briefly froze up. “Aesir was said to live upon the mountain, and this city of Noatun has been reputed to be kinda like Vigrid.”

“In what sense?” Damien asked. 

“Time hasn’t really affected it,” he explained briefly. “There should be knowledge on these four names here; Aesir, Loki, Loptr and Singularity. Anything we can use to give a better understanding, we should.”

“Wasn’t that what you were trying to do?” Bayonetta stood up and folded her arms. “I don’t believe it would be any fruitful here.”

“We think he has a point,” Hope interjected before anyone else could. “Some information can only be found in its place of origin, like the history of the Lumen and Umbra being lost in any other place that is not Vigrid.”

“Hmmm… You do raise a fantastic point…” She placed one hand on her chin and regarded Luka for a moment. “Do you think you can find anything here?”

“Literally anything is better than nothing,” he grinned, tilting his hat. The humour went away as soon as it came, melting into determination. “This also gets me out of the way. Something tells me those three Angels and Sage aren’t the only things after you.”

An unknown weight lifted off her shoulders and she smiled. “That is a fantastic idea, now I’m thinking of it.”

Clapping her hands, Bayonetta walked to the relative centre of the group and faced each one in turn. “Now, let’s get down to business. The Gates of Hell and Jeanne are not getting any closer with us standing around, but as mentioned about five seconds ago it is quite important to gain an understanding of what we are actually dealing with.”

Everyone nodded. She took that as a sign to continue; “Cheshire is going to be trying to research… well… anything that can help us. As much as I do trust you to keep to yourself, I do not trust you to not be a curious cat and get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Luka cried out.

“That is why I would like to ask you, Hope, to make sure the trouble stays away from him.” Bayonetta let her gaze settle upon the Joy, who stiffened up in response. “I know that three beings journeying into the Gates and Inferno is probably ideal, but you are an Angel and I believe myself and my brother is more than enough to get us through.”

“We can do that,” the Angel nodded. “Inferno and Lagunas are not a good combination to begin with.”

“Good. Now, little one, have you come to your decision yet?” 

The boy mulled over her words for a moment, then shook his head. “Aesir feels like my identity, but it also feels wrong. Loki to me, don’t know about you lot, feels much more suitable. But…”

“But?”

He shook his head and grinned. “It doesn’t matter. I think. But thank you for… you know… helping me. Didn’t expect you to go through all of this for me.”

“You’re our guide, Loki. I’d be a lost girl in Wonderland without you. Anything I can do to make the bargain easier; I will do.” Bayonetta turned to the last member of the group and smirked. “Now, brother of mine, are you ready?”

Damien nodded once. “Let’s go and rescue Jeanne.”

…

Bayonetta had tried hard to brush off the farewells to Luka, but Damien inwardly smirked when he saw how much of an act it all was. As much as she talked about keeping him safe and trusting that his role would be essentially to their success, his sister really did like having the man around. She lingered around him, all but holding onto the oblivious man to make sure they did not separate. The break came when Loki reminded her that they had to get moving.

It was kind of cute, really.

After establishing a telepathic link with Luka, the trio and duo had gone their separate ways. Loki had briefly explained where a few libraries and knowledge vaults were. He also then shared his concerns that it was all theoretical, as they had to survive the initial onslaught of Laguna upon the city and the passage of time as well. The pair had reassured him that his fragmented memory was probably correct and disappeared off into the city. 

Those were Luka and Hope’s first stops, and hopefully their last.

Bayonetta and himself were going to the Cathedral of Cascades, which was the building that connected to the massive bridge that led up to Fimbulventr. Loki was adamant that the path to the Gates of Hell started there and Damien agreed with that logic. If Fimbulventr was a seat of power, then it made sense that portals to Paradiso and Inferno were upon it.

The only thing that bugged him about the situation was that the portal to Paradiso was behind him and not on the mountain.

‘The mountain is the correct path,’ Khepri spoke up. ‘The Gates themselves I’m not too sure about the location of, as they are quite the tightly guarded secret. The only person you know who might is Rodin, but he doesn’t need to use it.’

So, we are going in completely blind then?

‘The Gates will be close to the mountain. I can guarantee that.’

What if we are wrong? What if the Gates are-

‘They’ll be there.’ A tranquillity spell flooded him and the calming effects were instantaneous. ‘We’ll find the Gates and we’ll find her.’

“Well, neither of you have said a word in the last five minutes. Is it really that awkward?” Loki spoke up, turning around and folding his arms. “Isn’t this a big family reunion?”

“Damien isn’t the super talkative type. Especially if he’s conversing with his contracted.” Bayonetta glanced over to him, then back to the boy. 

“Wait, contracted? He’s a Witch!?”

“Yes and no. I have some of their powers, but I am in no way, shape or form an Umbra.” Damien chuckled. The misconception wasn’t exactly untrue any longer with Jeanne’s offer, but he wasn’t going to correct it until he was officially an acolyte.

“But I thought only women could be Witches?” Loki trailed his eyes up and down. “Hold on, what are you wearing? The outfit of a male Umbra?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask the same for a while now,” she nodded and turned her gaze to him. “No offence, but what the hell is that?”

“It’s a mixture of clothes from Nero and Dante. They fit and so I wore them.” He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal-

“Damien, why were you naked around Nero and Dante?” Bayonetta deadpanned with a raised eyebrow. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“What- no! Um, no. It has to do with me being turned into a horse. My clothes weren’t turned with me, so they found me without any.” The words spilled out initially, but he calmed down quickly and began to explain. “I woke up and Nico offered me them.”

“Nico did? Smart girl. She could have offered you a shirt or something, although.” She pointedly looked at his bare chest and Damien reflexively tried to close the coat around it. 

“Hey, they didn’t have one.”

“That was her excuse? I thought she was gay.” He instantly reddened and Bayonetta laughed. “Oh, come on! People are allowed to appreciate the view.”

That was an outright lie. “It’s not a good view.”

“Some people like scars.” She shrugged and continued on without skipping a beat. “Now you’ve come out of your little shell with Khepri, tell me what happened in that month you were missing.”

“What else is there to tell? Nero got his arm ripped off, Devil May Cry was hired to find the perpetrator and we failed in doing so. Dante’s probably still missing, if not outright dead-”

“You can’t kill Dante,” she scoffed. “He’ll be fine.”

“-and Lady was turned into a Demon Angel-thing and Trish became a Demon Knight. The hand that hunts and the hand that leads,” he said, shaking his head at her interruption. “I was turned into a steed for Trish and remained that way for a month. Nero and V rescued-”

“Who’s V?”

“The guy who hired us. They rescued some of us and are now trying to get the survivors out.” Damien felt a weight falling onto his shoulders and he sagged slightly. “If there is any left. Red Grave City is gone.”

Bayonetta didn’t answer. Loki, however, spoke up. “So you left to come here? Shouldn’t you have stayed back with the recovery efforts?”

“At the time it was the correct path. I was still recovering from everything and then I get told that Je-” His voice cracked and Damien instantly swallowed to try and remoisturise his throat. “She had died and Bayonetta was missing. What use is a mentally and physically damaged person in helping the recovery of a broken city? You saw what happened at Isla Del Sol after we defeated Balder’s plot. Or at least heard.”

“I have,” she nodded.

“I was ushered away and told to come back home by Ada and whatever part of STARS she managed to dredge up. I went to our apartment first and found Jeanne’s Christmas present to me. I found that Luka was at yours and travelled there to try and make sense of anything that was happening.” He finished, looking for her reaction.

He expected annoyance. What he got was extremely subdued. Bayonetta folded her arms and began to drum her fingers on her elbows. “How long ago was this visit?

Damien had to think about that. Mentally running the numbers, he recalled: “About… five hours ago?”

That brought out a chuckle. “You missed me by about two.”

Damien saw no humour in it. Every moment they had been separated had been another reminder of how useless he had been to her. He gave her a flat stare and turned away.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Can’t you take a joke?” She moved back into his line of sight. 

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously? Jeanne is the closest possible state next to dead and you’re making jokes about everything!?” 

“You believe I’m not taking this seriously?” Her tone had sharpened and once again Damien realised that he had spoken far too rashly once again. “I mourned and wept for a week for her. You didn’t hold her cooling body and come to the-”

Bayonetta swallowed and calmed herself with a deep inhale. “Look, I’m joking because what else can I do? Mourning doesn’t solve anything and the solution we have just requires us to travel. Jokes are the least of my worries.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She smiled and tapped his nose with her index finger. “Hey!”

“You need to be a bit looser. Now, continue; how did Luka and yourself meet up with Hope?”

Damien felt his fingers wrap around the Umbran Watch in his jacket’s pocket. “It has to do with her present to me.” 

Her curious eyebrow raised, then shot up with shock once he pulled the object out for her to see. “I couldn’t talk to Khepri at the time, but Benevolence pointed me towards Paradiso as a potential way to… well… activate it? I was still in recovery mode at the time.”

“She gave you an Umbran Watch?” Bayonetta whispered. “She wanted to make you one of us, officially?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t think telling her about the letter was appropriate. In retrospect, Luka probably shouldn’t have known, but at the time it had to be the correct decision. Jeanne had poured her heart out to him, and baring it to everyone was definitely not what she would want. Especially Bayonetta, of all people.

“Do you understand what this means? I had to claw and scratch for my watch, once they stole it away after they took me from Mummy,” she continued, her excitement building with every word. “Of the average class of acolytes, around five would ever become fully-fledged Umbra.”

“How did you get yours back?” he asked the obvious.

“Anyone who forms a contract with something stronger than the average Hideous needs the Watch to not open a rift to the Underworld and unleash Inferno back into the world.” Her hand reached up and pulled her own Watch out. “Considering that the Umbra and Lumen were both partially formed in to reign in Angels and Demons from their nature, letting an untrained acolyte drag a member of the Madama Court into the world accidently would be the least intelligent thing these morons could do.”

“Madama Court?” Loki spoke up. “Most of this is lost on me, but I’ve never heard of that term.”

Damien nodded. “Same here. I guess it has to do with Khepri as well?”

‘Correct. Let’s see how well Bayonetta knows her Infernal history.’

Bayonetta smirked and popped her Watch back onto its clasp. “The Madama Court is to Inferno what the Auditio are to Paradiso. Unlike Paradiso, and on brand with the overall chaotic nature of the realm, the positions aren’t stable or passed down from Demon to Demon. Strength and power rise to the top, and those who attain it serve as the four aides to the Queen of Inferno.”

Is she correct?

Khepri nodded with a proud smile. ‘I’ve never heard it recited better. Or at all, for that matter.’

“Butterfly is cunning, Styx is strength, Frijya is power and Khepri is time,” she recited. “As far as our records show, those are the only four who have ever held a seat in the court. In addition to this, our records only show five people who have ever managed to contract one. You, Jeanne, and myself are three of them.”

“The others are?” He had an idea of what the answer was going to be, considering that Khepri had spoken about a person named Rosa previously. 

The Witch tilted her head. “Jeanne’s and my respective Mummy’s.”

“Maybe such power is just something both of your ancestries,” he shrugged. “I don’t believe that’s a coincidence.”

“Yours too. We do share blood, even if it’s not natural, after all.”

“Hereditary, huh?” Loki frowned. He rested his chin on his hand and wandered aimlessly at the front. “Maybe sometimes it’s fate we can’t really escape from, no matter what.”

He exchanged a look with his sister before settling on the boy. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to put into words, but like…” he scratched the back of his head. “Power isn’t exactly something someone can be gifted or granted like that. From what I know most Umbra and Lumen, or any of the various magic clans around the world, it’s all very interconnected, almost to the point of inbreeding. You have to be a part of the clan from birth to even stand a chance to enter their ranks.”

“That’s… not exactly what I’ve heard.” Bayonetta glanced at him again. “I’ve met a few Witches that came from nothing. One of our more infamous exiles was one that simply outgrew the human population and started honing their abilities with proper training.”

“Not to mention I was literally created into this.” Damien added.

Loki chuckled and placed his hands behind his head. “Well, I am supposed to be dead. Maybe something has changed that I didn’t notice.”

That brought out silence from the two of them. He noticed with a roll of his eyes. “Oh, come on. It’s not like you haven’t seen death.”

“What we saw was a vision from the future, was it not? You haven’t died yet, little one.” Bayonetta frowned slightly. 

“I might have. I might not have. Who knows anymore.”

“What the hell do you mean by that? We obviously saw the end of… well… everything!” Damien exclaimed. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everything still seems to be around.”

“Mate, that was a memory. It’s happened at some point in history,” Loki laughed. Taking his eyes off the boy, the winged man noticed that they were approaching a ruin. It was sectioned off by barriers that surrounded it, preserving it as a monument of time. They did not stop when they arrived; he jumped the barrier and Bayonetta followed suit without hesitation. Damien read an attached plaque with a raised eyebrow:

Here lies the Pilosity, former site of power for Aesir.

‘Interesting…’

Considering that we were told Aesir’s power was in Fimbulventr, this is a very interesting turn of events. 

Khepri rolled her eyes. ‘I’m beginning to think that whatever knowledge we have is lacking. By a lot.’

Stepping over the barrier, he walked over to where Bayonetta and Loki were standing in the centre of the ruin. Broken walls surrounded a circular platform, leading to the remnants of a spiralling staircase. His sister turned to him briefly with a quizzical expression, but he waved it off and placed his attention on the boy. 

“Everything within a person’s memory will have existed. Just because the end of the world hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean that the memory can’t exist,” Loki explained. “The Remembrance of Time can pull from any point of history.”

“Does this Remembrance have a mind of its own?” 

“Most magic does, love. You’d be lucky to find some that doesn’t,” he chuckled. “What it’s trying to do is another question.”

“Is it not showing us this Loptr fellow?” Damien spoke up. “I mean, he killed you.”

“Could be. Or the universe ending. Both works,” Loki shrugged, then gestured to the room around them. “He did look exactly like me, and did call me brother, so I guess he must be. But the rest of the vision was… well… I got no clue.”

You know anything?

‘That vision was the first I have ever seen of anything like that.’

“Do you think this Loptr is evil?” Bayonetta asked.

“I don’t think so. I mean, he did say he wanted to try and save the worlds.” He turned to her and shrugged again. “I could hardly fault a guy’s method if it requires me to die.”

That raised her eyebrow. “Are you saying that you are fine with that being your fate?”

“I literally just learned I had a brother about ten minutes ago. I don’t know his angle or mind other than he thinks he can save the multiverse by himself.” He blanched at the words. “That’s weird to say. I didn’t even know about a multiverse and here we are.”

Bayonetta grunted in annoyance and walked into the centre of the room. “Where are the answers for anything? I’ve been here for about two hours at best, all I want to do is find my sister and every single question we have just leads to more! I know you are listening in, blue guy! Where’s the next party and mystery you want to give us?”

Alarm bells rang in his mind and Damien turned to her with a sharp intake. “Bayonetta, just what are you doing?”

Her eyes met his and they were glistening. She swallowed and he held up a hand. Talk to me.

‘I want some progress. Jeanne is dying and-’

The familiar plucking of mental strings brought his psyche back. Gritting his teeth, he severed the connection before it could take place and glanced around with suspicion. Another fleeting presence tingled at the edge of his senses, tantalizingly out of reach but slippery enough to evade any attempt of catching it.

“Thanks,” Bayonetta whispered. She was beside him now, checking the ruin in the opposite direction. “I don’t know if I could even fight that.”

“Shouldn’t Butterfly handle mental attacks like that?” he fired back, then turned to Loki. “Hey, get down. Something is coming.”

The refusal was instantaneous and, honestly from what he could see of the boy, expected. “I can fight!” 

“With those cards? Little one, you were making pin cushions of our enemies,” Bayonetta snorted, then hushed her tone. “She couldn’t sense it until you broke it. Whoever that was, they were way stronger than Balder.”

A chill ran down his spine and he involuntarily shivered. Surely, he could sense something of that magnitude. Even if it was-

It disappeared and the world became normal again. The tension did not fade.

“The hell was that all about?” Loki asked, folding his arms. “What did you sense? Who was it?”

Bayonetta was the first to relax, lowering her two blue guns down. “If I were a betting woman, I believe that was our common enemy.”

“They were testing us. Prodding our defences and learning our capabilities,” he continued, thinking back to what Jeanne had drilled into him in their initial training sessions. “I don’t know if they got what they wanted.”

“Huh? Testing? Shouldn’t they have been doing that when she got here, you know?” 

He had a point. From what he had gathered, Bayonetta had fought some of the newer Angels and a few of the larger variants, but nothing to truly test her.

The Lumen Sage was another matter, but Damien had a funny feeling that he was something different. A wildcard, like a friend of his, in this moment of time. 

So why now would they be testing her?

‘Damien,’ Khepri’s voice was small. Quiet. Frightened. ‘They weren’t testing her.’

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

His senses lit up with warnings and he telekinetically shoved Bayonetta away, followed by tossing Loki in the same direction. 

“Damien!?”

“Mate, what the fuck?”

The ground trembled, then exploded outwards with red fire and brimstone. Vaulting above the chaos and landing on the remains of a nearby pillar, Damien watched with dread as something long and serpentine shot out of the portal. It flew into the sky and unravelled with hundreds of legs skittered in the air, trying to find purchase. Two mighty mandibles snapped, and its mouth distended into a shattering screech. 

“Jesus Christ! Is this one of your friends?” Damien heard Loki scream when the Demon quietened. “I thought Infernals were on your side!”

“They don’t listen to me anymore.” Bayonetta grimaced, then stared daggers at the intruder. “Hello, Scolopendra.”

“As much as we would like to entertain the thought of devouring you ourselves,” the Infernal spoke, each word a dissonant growl in the air. “The Prophet has demanded of us that we gift the Defiled One a fitting obliteration first.”

A blue barrier shimmered into existence around the room, locking both Loki and Bayonetta out and himself inside with the Demon. His sister immediately slammed against the surface with a wicked weave, but only ripples that faded into stillness was her reward from it.

“And that will be our task. You will fall for the Prophet.” Its gaze fell upon him with wrath. Dozens of beady eyes darted around the dome, taking in the area. Analysing. Adapting. Planning.

‘This one will be tough.’

Watching its body continuously uncoil and recoil, he began to think. From the brief glimpses he had seen of the Demon, Scolopendra was very snake-like in both its nature and attacks. It either crushed its enemies with its body or bit them with their jaws. Considering that it almost encompassed the enclosed space, Damien figured he would have an easy time to avoid both.

“Where is your defiance, Defiled One? You are supposed to be the greatest affront to all that exists, and here you are,” it snarled, raising its head above its body. “No words, no courage. Perhaps the Prophetic One was overstating your importance.”

“I’d like to think that I’m important to someone,” Damien started slowly, letting the Glintstone staff fall from Inferno into his hands. He twirled it in his fingertips and swung it down by his side with a flourish, summoning the blades around him again. “And besides, just like Bayonetta I was or still is the most important man on Earth.”

“You? The Defiled One?” It chuckled, then narrowed is eyes. “What is this?”

“What is what?” He asked, completely confused. 

The Demon shrieked and a burst of air erupted from its mouth. Abandoning the staff, Damien threw himself off the pillar and watched as it exploded from the force. The glintblades shattered from the force, leaving him defenceless. 

‘Sonics… That’s something different.’

“You dare contain that within you?” It roared, surging forward with the body following along.

“That’s rude!” Sharuba snapped into his hand and he teleported to another pillar. “Khepri is a good friend! Don’t talk about her like that!”

 The Demon slowed into a halt and regarded him with fury. “The traitor is not what we speak of, although ending her existence along with yours is perfect.”

“Wait, not her? Then what are you talking about?”

“Hmph, if you do not know, then the knowledge is undeserving of you.” 

Scolopendra’s jaws dislocated and unleashed another wave of force. Damien jumped down and summoned wind into his left hand. Slamming it against the Sharuba, he imbued it with the element and sent a shockwave back at the Demon. The blast caught and rocked it, but it recovered with a scream.

He expected it to send another sonic attack at him, but Damien felt something slam into his side and toss him into the barrier. Scolopendra’s tail retracted back towards its body and it swarmed forward. Their mouth opened wider and approached closer and closer…

Damien kicked off the wall and watched with satisfaction when it collided. Grabbing hold of his wing, he began to glide back down towards the ground. Landing without difficulty, he turned to see the Demon snarling and relatively unaffected. Raising the Sharuba, he flung a second shockwave at the head only for it to send a sonic blast back at him. The two collided and while his was obliterated, Scoloenpendra’s continued and connected with him. 

He was launched into the wall once more and the force crushed everything. The katana fell from his grip and Damien felt his ribs shatter. The force relented and he joined his blade on the ground, albeit wheezing and groaning in pain. 

‘You can’t fight fire with fire,’ Khepri spoke up, concern in her voice. ‘How about you use something else?’

Like what?

‘You know who.’

Damien sighed to himself, standing back up. You know I don’t like summoning you.

‘What could go wrong if you do?’ Khepri raised an eyebrow. ‘What will go wrong if you don’t?’

Nothing would go wrong. Igniting the Sharuba in flame, he twisted over another sonic blast and propelled himself forward with a flap of his wing. Scolopendra snarled and swarmed through the air in response. The Demon began to encompass the area, enclosing and wrapping around him. Roaring, he slashed at the flesh with a sweep. The fire scorched the chitin, but the blade itself bounced off.

‘Come on, just summon me! I could use the exercise.’

He gritted his teeth in response. Reversing his grip on the katana, he launched a wave of fire at the closest coil. Switching to electricity as it impacted, he surged forward with a stinger. Bolts of lightning flew from the edge of the blade, but each one reflected off into the whirlwind of flesh. 

‘Stop ignoring me.’

Every time I summon you, it was because I wanted to abuse this power. 

She gave him a look of admonishment. ‘Not for the first time. We worked together rather well against Sapientia.’

I don’t like abusing you. 

‘You won’t be’

…

“So, love.” Loki turned to her. “Your brother isn’t particularly smart.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the boy was right. Despite his training, Damien was still falling into the same pitfalls as six months ago. Bayonetta knew that he had plenty more tools in his repertoire that he still was refusing to use. A memory of Khepri slamming into her stomach played, followed by the sight of-

That memory was shunted off. She knew he almost hated that aspect of himself. Telling him to use the Demon Within was essentially insulting his very being to his face. If he refused to use it as his lowest, he would not use it for a random skirmish with one of her ex-contracts. 

“No, he is not,” she admitted, crossing her arms and watching as he began to flail wildly. Sparks flew into the sky but were quickly obscured by the moving mass of centipede. “But he is competent enough.”

“How did he fight a Lumen Sage when he’s like this?” Loki took a few steps back, then hurled a dozen cards at the barrier. It reddened in response, faltering in its shimmering, but ultimately held firm. “Fuck!”

“When he’s focused, he can do some wonderful things. But at the same time, that focus can cause him to be very short-sighted.” Bayonetta sighed, then threw a punch at the wall. The familiar scent of Paradiso wafted over her and she turned with a roll of her eyes. “Of course, you’d all want front row seats. Little one!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Loki ran, then jumped and transformed. She caught the animal and shoved it down her suit, encasing him within. Five portals to Paradiso opened in front of her and five Angels stepped forth. Each one was much larger than the normal centaur Angel she had fought before, and held two large shields in each of their arms. 

“Capricious trespasser…” They spoke past her, focussing on the melee. “Fall to the Prophet or-”

“Hey!” Bayonetta grabbed Love is Blue from Inferno and pointed them at the lead. “I’m right here, boys. How about you show the lady a little attention before you move onto interrupting the main event?”

“You and the Sovereign One are required for the Prophet’s designs,” it snarled, raising the shields and slamming them together. “It is not.”

Gunshots rang through the air as she pulled the trigger. The Witch immediately ducked down as the bullet ricochet off the shields, bouncing around and embedding itself into the ground. Rolling back to her feet, Bayonetta sprung forward with a flip and attempted to drop-kick the shield.

Nothing happened except resounding ‘clunk!’ of her heels crashing against the metal. Grimacing, Bayonetta raised one leg and slammed it down with a weave following suit. The wicked stomp connected; but just like her own attempt, it did not break through the shield. 

Back-flipping to the ground, she reconsidered her options. She could summon out Diomedes for this, but that felt like a waste of the Demon for some armoured foes. 

‘Me could help, but me agree. These are cowardly Laguna and are unworthy of me blade,’ Diomedes roared in agreement, making Bayonetta flinch. 

‘Hush, you do not need to yell,’ she chided, putting emphasis on how quiet she was. ‘You’re in my head, not on the other side of town.’

‘Me sorry.’ Diomedes instantly quietened down. ‘But me have other power you can use, mistress.’

‘The same as us,’ Mictlantecuhtli added, and Bayonetta’s eyes widened. ‘Utilise their power and become them!’

Relaxing her being and mind, Bayonetta let the power of Inferno fill her and felt her body begin to shift. Two arms and two legs sprouted from her shoulders and waist respectively, then her body began to elongate. Her feet wrapped around themselves and formed hooves, while her fingers melded together into long, sharp blades. Insectile, chitinous armour wrapped around her body and face, hardening into black and red shapes that contoured to her figure. Bayonetta growled, then let out a shriek as her hair grew into a topknot that flowed back down her back. 

The Angels lowered their shields slightly, then crashed them back into formation when they finally caught sight of what they were looking at. 

“What, are you afraid now, boys?” Bayonetta spread her two sword arms out and folded the other two under her chest. “Don’t be scared. I’m only doing what needs to be done.”

They all shuffled slightly, perturbed by the change of events, but the one in front of her stepped forward with a challenge. “Appearances can be deceiving, coronzon , and we do not care for your new form. You are still the same Umbra-”

Bayonetta galloped forward with a sudden rush of motions, trying to throw the Angel off guard. It didn’t work as intended; the Accolade-like Lagunan merely crashed its shields back together and formed an impenetrable wall. 

Impenetrable to bullets maybe. Bayonetta brought her sword arms to bear and slammed them against the shield. They bounced off, but the wielder buckled slightly.

‘Think, don’t act.’ Butterfly advised. She heeded it and stabbed both swords into the small gap where the shields connected. Her second pair of arms unfolded and gripped on, slowly and surely prying the two apart. 

“Peekaboo.” 

Bayonetta ripped the shields away and thrust forward with both swords. The Angel was impaled instantly, slackening and falling to the ground. She snapped her fingers and a portal to Inferno opened up to catch it, closing one it had disappeared from sight. 

Laughing, Bayonetta turned to the four remaining Angels. “Alright boys, who is next?”

Scolopendra roared from behind her and she turned just her torso to see the centipede Demon constrict its body in a sudden motion. Her eyes widened and she instantly called out her brother’s name in panic: “Damien!”

“What a waste. We expected something better than a pushover.” The Demon actually sounded disappointed. “We were promised a mighty battle, not-”

Scolopendra exploded in a flood of darkness and the barrier instantly flickered and faded away. The Demon’s head landed atop a pile of nearby rubble, gasping and fighting for breath. Her eyes shifted back to the centre of the room and a shadow jumped up and out of sight.

“What… power… was… that…?” 

Bayonetta did not get a chance to answer; the shadow fell upon the head and six swords skewered the face. Two clawed hands gripped the two mandibles and pulled. The head of Scolopendra resisted with a roar of pain and fury, but the swords twisted and the head was torn apart in a blender-like motion.

“Damien?” she asked, her voice unsure and reflecting her inner turmoil. She had seen him in action briefly at Vigrid Airport; he had never transformed again in her presence. From what Dante had told her, his Devil Trigger was very primal and uncontrollable. If he had never transformed since then, well…

He would never have learned to control it.

Bayonetta moved her body around to meet him, taking note of the Angels in full retreat. Her brother’s form was similar to the descriptions that Dante had provided her; four, leathery wings had grown from his back and his skin had turned charcoal. Two bulbous eyes sat upon his head as the only distinguishable feature, underneath two tendrils that flowed from his scalp. His feet and hands had changed into claws, with his legs now sporting an extra joint around the mid-shin area. One hand gripped the Sharuba tightly, whereas the other lifted up slowly. The five clones of the katana rose with it, until they formed a circle around his form.

‘That’s your brother?’ Butterfly was perplexed, more than anything. ‘And he has a Devil Trigger?’

Yes and yes. 

‘Why?’

That gave her pause. It was theorised the why was because he was part Demon, but Dante had pointed out that the less Demonic your heritage, the less abhorrent your trigger looked (if you had one). Trish at the time also pointed out that he viewed his Demonic side as a monster and hence it reflected outwards.

But that didn’t explain why the trigger was so potent. By their knowledge, his form should at least look somewhat human.

There’s no answer. But that is my brother and I’m going to have to beat some sense into him.

‘Be careful,’ Butterfly warned. ‘You’ve never fought anything like this before.’

Readying her blade arms, she called out to him: “Damien, stand down. Calm down, if you can.”

The Demon bellowed in response. His scream echoed through the city without abandon and Bayonetta knew that anyone who could hear it, did. Not for the first time in her life, she cursed at her lack of telepathy. 

Damien locked eyes with her and disappeared. He reappeared directly in front of her, all six katanas slicing at her in all directions. Bayonetta parried two with twirls of her own swords, grabbed another two with her hands and cried out with pain when the final two impaled her. Her topknot acted instantly and flew forward to wrap around his neck. It dragged him forward and her head cracked against his own with a thunderous headbutt. 

It was enough. Damien staggered backwards, his mental and physical grip on the swords fading enough for her to toss him away. Her hands found the blades of the Sharuba clones and ripped them out of her body. Grunting at the pain that followed, she threw them down and implored to him again.

“I do not wish to hurt you, brother,” she whispered, slowly trotting towards him. “Please, it is up to you to make this madness stop!”

He recovered with a twirl and stared at her with those horrible, hate-filled eyes. She matched it with a fierce glare and spread her sword arms out wide with a silent challenge.

‘You are just making him angrier.’

That’s the plan. Prey on his emotions, then wrestle him under control. She answered immediately. Love is Blue reappeared in her free hands and trained themselves on him. Damien answered with the crackle of electricity; sparks flew off his hands and wings, imbuing themselves into his flesh and blades with a low hum. They stayed in that stand off for a few crucial moments, neither willing to give the advantage so quickly.

“Come on,” she winked with a slight tilt of her head.

Damien moved first, sliding forward in a stiletto. Bayonetta jumped forward to intercept, bashing away all six blades and-

A green flash appeared and both Damien and herself were thrown back. Her body crashed into the stone and tumbled awkwardly into a pillar. Groaning at the sharp pains that wracked her lower half, Bayonetta struggled to lift herself back into a standing position. She did manage to twist her torso and she gasped at the sight in front of her. 

Madama Khepri stood there, in the flesh. Her wings fluttered from the wind and energies cracked around her green skin, and her gaze was affixed upon her contracted. 

“Calm yourself,” her voice was powerful and commanding. In two words, she understood just why the Infernal was on the Madama Court. “You have better enemies to fight.”

Damien picked himself up and lunged at the Demon. Khepri waved one hand and the weapons disappeared in a flash of light. She caught him and held him at arm’s length.

“You know, if you had just summoned me you wouldn’t be in this situation,” she muttered. A presence played against her mind and Bayonetta welcomed it. ‘Cereza, can you please help?’

What could I possible do to help? She asked.

‘Transform back. It’s how we pulled him out of it last time.’

The masquerade melted away, and Bayonetta felt Loki climb out of her cleavage and onto her shoulder. Standing back up, she ran over to the Infernal and her struggling brother. 

“Release me!” He snarled, the words scratchy and raw. Rows upon rows of needle’s made up his teeth, but unlike Dante’s previous descriptions he had a mouth to speak with. 

Khepri scoffed in response. “Why should I do that? You need to learn control. Until you’re back to normal I’ll keep you on a tight leash.” 

“Damien!” Bayonetta called out and he turned to her. “I know you are still in there. Don’t let the demon win!”

He was still struggling. His hands were digging deep into the green flesh of Khepri and the scent of Demonic blood began to fill the air. “Release me!”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Khepri dug her heels into the ground and began to grow. Damien was lifted up with her, squirming and fighting against the strengthening and tightening grip. Soon enough, he looked more like a toy within her grasp.

“You might be strong, and personally I do think you are almost akin to strength incarnate, but let’s not forget where your powers come from,” Khepri stated. She peered down at the demon in her grasp and smirked. “She who gives can take away.”

“I need to save her!”

That caused her eyebrow to raise. Loki jumped from her shoulder and Bayonetta sensed him revert back to his normal form. “Damn, he attacked you because of your mutual friend?”

“I think there’s more nuance to it than just that.” Bayonetta folded her arms and watched the scene unfold. 

The Madama’s expression became tender. “I know. But you have friends and allies to help you; you do not have to do this alone.”

She met her eyes and smiled softly. “Not to mention you have family here as well. Trust me, my champion, you have all the help you need.”

And with those final words she began to shrink. A light began to shine from between her fingertips and Bayonetta averted her eyes from the radiance. It died down not long after to reveal a normal-sized Khepri cradling a spent Damien, who had returned to his normal form. 

“And now he’s out of it? What a joke-”

“You might be an integral player of the game, Sovereign One, and I did respect your wisdom when you were Aesir,” Khepri snarled and her eyes glowed a vivid red. “But you do not know his situation. You cannot comment on it.”

“What is the situation?” Bayonetta asked, her eyes not leaving her brother’s prone form.

“The idiot decided to find answers to all of his questions by nearly killing himself,” she started with a roll of her eyes. “Instead of going to Rodin and asking him, he decided to spend whatever energy he had left by opening a portal to Paradiso, challenging the new legions of Laguna and then opening a summoning portal to Inferno to try and find me. He’s running on fumes and he’s still pushing himself beyond what he should be.”

“That’s some loyalty,” Loki commented. “Kinda wish someone was like that with me. But why would he even attack Bayonetta?”

“You.” 

“Huh? Me?” 

Khepri rolled her eyes. “You are the big key to finding Jeanne. If he wanted to go to Inferno, then he would need you. He might be primal, but he still recognises family from foe.”

His eyes widened and he swallowed. “Damn… Wonder how he goes when he’s fighting a foe.”

“Stick around, little one, and you might find out.” Bayonetta shook her head. “But that’s definitely Damien.” 

The Witch walked slowly over to the Madama and grasped Damien’s limp hand. It was cold and clammy, but she felt a weak pulse under her fingertips. “Will he be alright?”

“In due time. I tried to cast a small spell that borrows from the future and grant him the strength he needs now. The fact it worked both worries and relieves me,” he explained, one hand reaching up and lightly stroking his cheek. “But it will be for naught if he burns the candle at both ends, so to speak.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

Loki’s tone took them both by surprise. His face was screwed into a serious frown and his eyes were fixated upon Khepri. “Those kind of spells were… well… the Time Keeper would’ve prevented you from even casting that. But the way you’ve phrased that… You seem terrified of the implications of it even succeeding.”

“Damien Luegray is a man with no future. I’ve looked into his and found nothing after a certain point.”

Her head whipped around and she stared at the Demon in shock. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Khepri sighed. “I take it he hasn’t told you then?”

“Of course not!” She screamed, then swallowed and tried to calm down. “I’m trying to understand why he wouldn’t tell me!”

“I think you underestimate how some people fixate upon fate,” Loki shrugged. “But this is pretty obvious. He didn’t want you to know because you would understandably freak out, and you are out of sorts because it presents a paradox. How can you pull strength from something that can’t exist?”

“You really are Aesir,” she chuckled. “Already found the crux of the problem with only a few words necessary.”

“Exactly. Well, not to toot my own horn, but that’s kind of what a Primordius is meant to do,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “We govern and give aid to those who need it.”

“Hold on, can we just go back to the point where we were discussing the fact my brother just ceases to exist?” Bayonetta turned to both of them in turn, confused and upset. “How is that possible? When does it happen? Why does it happen!?”

“There’s plenty of ways, love. The big one is a paradox, but generally speaking the universe self-corrects before it removes objects from existence due to a paradox.” He shrugged again. “Most of the others involve looking for the Void or the Realms Between and finding something you probably shouldn’t have found in the first place.”

“Great! When does it happen?” Her eyes locked onto Khepri’s. “And don’t give me the same bullshit answer that you always do. Tell me the truth.”

“…” the Demoness hesitated. “I shouldn’t tell you. What you think you are going to hear is not what you want-”

“That means you can tell me. I can deal with whatever it is! Please, Khepri,” Bayonetta tried not to fall to her knees and opted only to verbalise. “I beg of you. Tell me.”

Khepri stood there, her jaw grinding. She lowered her eyes and let them trail over the body in her arms. They closed and Bayonetta watched as a tear fell from them.

What…? Devils don’t cry.

‘What is she doing?’ Butterfly scoffed. ‘Attachment to her contracted? Is that really what she wants?’

Is attachment really that bad? she raised an eyebrow and reached out to Khepri. Bayonetta wiped away the tear and the Demon opened her eyes with an appreciative smile.

‘For creatures like us, it is.’

“Miss, why don’t you want to tell us?” Loki stepped forward. “Will it affect us?”

“Of course, it will. Every action has a consequence; you both should know this.” Khepri raised an eyebrow and regarded them cooly. “I’m not holding onto this information because I want to.”

The boy stopped and considered his words. He nodded and continued, slowly and purposefully: “Is there a future where he doesn’t go on a path towards this… non-existence?”

“Every future I’ve viewed leads to the same choice. And every time he chooses what will lead to his own annihilation,” Khepri answered. She sighed and her expression turned to reluctance. “I don’t know the context. I don’t even know what the choice even is! All I know is that he takes it.”

Bayonetta swallowed and let go of Damien’s hand. It fell limply to his side and she tore her gaze from it. “Can you please tell us when? Please. I need to know how much time I have left.” 

The Demon raised her head slowly and sombrely. “Before tomorrow’s sun reaches the apex, Damien will no longer exist.”

...

My First Journal!

Enemy Data

Scolopendra

A centipede that hails from somewhere in Inferno. I think. Aunty J would murder me if I admitted that her lessons hadn’t been drilled into my mind, but she hasn’t read this, I think. But anyway, Uncle Damien fought one a few years ago during the Noatun incident. The important thing he noted was that the chit- chit- shell is immune to practically everything. I imagine that he’s probably exaggerating though, because he’s pretty lazy when it comes to testing. Aunty J would test everything and everything and I think her results are in a Daemonology book somewhere. Jeanne herself wouldn’t bother, and that’s why Aunty J did. She’s so proactive when it comes to learning that it’s kinda weird. She says that someone has to do it, but why does it have to be her?

Come to think of it, I think she dragged her husband along for testing, so ha! Sucks to be him!

Whoops, I didn’t even talk about the Demon yet. Anyway, it’s a yucky centipede that utilises sonics, like Baal and Baal Ze Bul. Unlike those two, it's a yucky centipede and not a big friendly frog or giant Mummy Demon.

Uhh… Hopefully my GF isn’t reading this… 

Theme: Gigapede Battle - Devil May Cry 3 (2005)

Dear Violetta, we have both read this and we are both extremely disappointed that you did not remember anything we have taught you, despite us both owning several textbooks that explain this. When you read this, please come and see us for some more lessons.

Jeanne D’Arc

Chapter Text

Side Mission 2: Seeker of Truth

…

“Daddy! Look!”

Cereza’s cheerful tones piped up from somewhere behind him and Balder sighed. Lowering himself back down to the ground, he slowly cracked open his eyes and let the sun’s warm rays fill them. It died down to reveal luscious, vivid colours; flowers and trees of all shapes and sizes populated his garden, all carefully cultivated by him over the last three years.

His daughter ran up to him, appearing from his left, holding a blossoming oleander flower in her hand. “Look! It’s so beautiful!”

Balder lifted one arm and gently grasped at the stem, pulling the flower away. His eyes narrowed with a slight frown; he did not remember planting these. The only bushes Rosa had touched were the rosemary she had personally planted to remember her days as an Umbra Witch; toxic oleander wasn’t something that he would even want in his garden.

“Cereza, my dear sweet child,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on the flower. “Can you please go and find your mother?”

“Okay! I think she’s still inside, fixing the m- m- mach-” She stumbled on the final word and he looked up to her with a smile.

“Machinery. Now, please go and find her.”

Cereza’s bright smile melted his heart and he could not help but return it. She turned and ran towards their home, stopping briefly to stand on her toes to reach the door handle and open it. His smile fell when she closed it behind her.

The scent of rosemary intensified.

“Lord Balder.”

Balder closed his eyes and a glowing portal encased him, moving his entire being into Purgatorio. The sight that greeted him was expected, but still troubling and confusing; a trio of Joys were standing before him. Their expressionless faces bore down at his, not moving a single muscle.

“Why are you here?” He tried not to let fear quaver his voice, but there was no chance they had not seen his child. Both himself and his wife had known the risks their union would bring; they had gone to such lengths to hide both themselves and their love, and now some coincidence would tear them apart.

“We do not come to speak ill of your child, milord,” the central one spoke. He assumed they were the leader. “We come to warn you.”

“Of what? You’ve summoned a terrible fate upon my family and myself?” he sprung to his feet and readied magic at his fingertips. “Speak before I am forced to destroy you!”

“Calm yourself! We do not wish to fight!”

The smaller one on the left stepped forward, their hands held in a peaceful gesture. “We are here to warn you of them! The Lumen Sages are coming!”

Balder froze. His heart stumbled and world shattered into a million, razor sharp pieces, each one directed at him. “You lie.”

“Paradiso is poisoned. Your reason to leave the ranks of the Sages never sat well with our superiors, nor yours. Investigations upon investigations have been occurring for the last year, all of them inconclusive,” the Joy on the right spoke up, their voice timider and more reluctant than their siblings. “We do not know what changed, but they came to the conclusion that you were charmed by a Witch.”

“But… how? I had legitimate grievances with the docile nature of the Elders. I made sure my love for Rosa was not discovered. Our child does not legally exist in any country, let alone Vigrid. It should have been impossible for anything to be discovered!” Balder knew that his release from the Sages wasn’t as smooth as it could have been, but he had confidence that no one knew his true reason for leaving. Rosa did not have the same problem; some of the more famous Witches had left the clan of their own volition. She had walked out the same way Morgana Le Fay had, citing she wanted to start a family and that she would be back when she was ready to return. The difference was that she fully intended to do so.

“Our belief is they were informed. There is no logical reason that they would jump from an inconclusive question to a solid decision of finality,” the leader answered solemnly. “Someone knew.”

Who?

Who?

Who?

Balder’s thoughts were going haywire. He had told no one. Absolutely no one had seen him whenever Rosa had managed to drag him away for a date. He had left them all behind before Rosa had convinced him to have a child.

“This is all meaningless. Your family is in danger, milord. You must take action or they will be lost!” the timid one shouted, then covered their mouth with their hands. The Joy opposite them gave them a supporting tap on the shoulder. They glanced up to see their heading nodding with approval and their resolve visibly returned.

“Why do you all care? Is our family not an affront to your beliefs? We have sired a child of light and dark, the ultimate fear of everything in existence?” he all but shouted. Balder knew his fear was becoming too much, but what else was he meant to feel? “Why are you not taking her away and erasing her existence?”

“She is innocent. Your daughter may be part of Loptr’s Prophecy, but she has no say in who she is or what her role in history is meant to be,” the leader said with a soft smile. “If we are being honest, those who seek to prevent a prophecy are those who ultimately fulfill it. As far as we are concerned, all we have observed is a loving family who are not deserving of the fate others wish to force upon them.”

The door opened behind him and he glanced back to see a spectral Cereza leading the charge. She pointed at his last position, her face screwing into confusion when she couldn’t find him. Rosa appeared in the doorway, her fingers instantly tapping her glasses to peer into Purgatorio. Her expression fell from confusion to terror and she barked to Cereza. A sigil appeared in front of her and the former Witch stepped through, Unforgiven appearing in her hands in a flash of green smoke. “What the fuck is this!?”

“Madame Rosa,” the leader acknowledged with a bow of their head. “We do not bring good news-”

“Balder, can you please explain why there are three fucking Angels trampling our garden!?” he flinched at the tone. The only thing worse that a woman scorned was when his wife was angry at him.

“They have brought news that the Lumen Sages have found us.” The words were ashes in his throat. But she had every right to know.

The reaction was immediate, albeit delayed. The fire and passion that always lingered in her eyes died into despair and her guns lowered, inch by inch until they were helplessly held by her sides. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, unable to form words or even sounds.

“Rosa, I-”

“We did everything right. We gave up everything to make sure we could not be found and our love not disturbed,” she whispered, her voice dead. “And it wasn’t enough. If they know, there is no place in the world we can run to hide. They’ll find Cereza and-”

“They will not touch our daughter. I will not let them.”

Balder reached across and gripped his wife’s shoulder. “I swear upon my honour that our daughter will not be taken. I-”

“If the Lumen Sages are pursuing her, there is very little you can do to hide her.” The timid Joy bowed their head. “We felt her radiance the second she was brought into this world. Power cannot be misdirected, and she burns the brightest of all.”

“Your best course of action is to appeal to their humanity.”

“They will kill her! Both the Umbra and the Lumen swore to never let a union such as ours to be formed; if they know we have sired their ultimate fear, they will not stop until she doesn’t breathe!” Rosa burst out, slapping his arm away and moving towards the trio. “At best we could appeal for a humane execution and not some sick, twisted-”

“The Umbra have moved on from their decadent excess, Rosa,” he reached for her again; this time, she offered no resistance and let him pull her close. “Their fear will not let them perform anything on our daughter. If they find her.”

“They will.” Rosa shuddered in his arms. “They know.”

“I will not let them. I promise.”

The leader of the trio tapped the side of their head. “Paradiso calls. We are apologetic, but we felt it was best to give you both some warning of what is to come.”

“Thank you,” he whispered gratefully. Swallowing, he pointed at them. “What is your name?”

The Joy considered the question for a second, then smiled briefly. “Our name is Benevolence, as gifted to us by our peers.”

“Thank you, Benevolence. I hope we meet again in the future.”

…

“Me? I’m the final legacy of Balder.”

The Sage teleported to a roof of a nearby building, his thoughts racing and trying to make sense of anything he had just witnessed.

The Umbra Witch had a brother. Bayonetta had accomplices in Paradiso. She had enthralled a mortal.

But at the same time…

The brother was his final legacy? In what possible world did that make sense? Rosa did not have twins, nor did he ever break his commitment to her. This ‘Damien’ – a name he had gleaned from that traitorous Joy – felt like an amalgamation of existence. There was power evident within him, that he could sense and pinpoint, but everything else was a whirlwind of chaos. Lagunan, Infernal, human… He felt like a vortex of every possible being.

And that was discounting the familiar sensations that kept pinging from him. He wasn’t sure what aspect of the man was giving him this feeling as everything seemed to be. He knew the human. He knew the demon. He knew the Angel. But at the same time, he did not.

And it was another question added to the pile that was growing larger and larger in every passing second.

Crouching down, Balder crawled over to the edge of the building and peered over. The Witch had grabbed both men by their ears and was dragging them towards a nearby bench. Both seemed to be talking over each other, evidently trying to appease her in some manner.

She was obviously the leader, as they were subservient. But why would a pair of enthralled beings need to explain themselves?

They were not enthralled, logic whispered. But are accomplices through and through.

That would make sense for the brother. Humans, as far he remembered, only lived for around forty years; a five-hundred-year-old human would a be miracle, but extremely unlikely.

Something wasn’t adding up.

He kept his gaze on the brother. Ash blond hair adorned his scalp, a far cry from the raven locks of Bayonetta. His features were sharp, cold and harsh; again, a far cry from his supposed sister’s rounded and welcoming face. Both had long bodies and longer limbs; the brother was thinner, but Balder could not attribute that as a clear genetical difference. Nevertheless, it still set the pair apart, just like his golden eyes clashed with her grey irises.

Someone he knew with golden eyes flashed through his mind, and Balder rolled his own with derision. Khepri’s human form had them, yes, but that was mostly an in-joke between herself and Rosa. The Madama of Time was in no way, shape or form related to this… winged thing that claimed itself to be his legacy.

So, this Damien was Bayonetta’s sibling? He ruminated on the question as the human stood up and started explaining something about Paradiso and answers. From every logical standpoint, every possible conclusion, the answer was no. He could not be.

But then why did Bayonetta react the way she did? If he truly wasn’t her flesh and blood, then why did her reaction of surprise and relief look so genuine?

They could be the same as yourself and the Sages, or Rosa with her Witches. Bound by code and oath, not by blood.

Logic once again struck true. Observing the two again, he found that the looks they were giving each other, their relaxed body language and small touches of affection were genuine. They had to be. Surely an accomplice to a murderer wouldn’t allow themselves to be so casual, so close.

Whoever this Damien was, he truly believed himself to be her brother.

Balder shook his head. This was just an act, meant to thrown him off his game. Loptr had already warned him about the enemy-

Wait.

Why didn’t Loptr warn him about this brother?

The main reason he retreated was that he had no interest in fighting multiple opponents, nor ones he had any clues about. Bayonetta was an Umbra Witch; Clan tournaments and Rosa’s flirtatious sparring sessions had given him more than enough experience to be comfortable with battling them, but he had never fought an amalgamation. He had also very little experience with Angels, but Balder was under the impression they fought like Witches. It still didn’t make up for the fact that a winged man had shown up with magic he had never even heard of before and started hurling it around like it was second nature.

Five hundred years of history was what he had missed. There was a high chance that what he had understood of the branches of magic had warped and evolved, but this was something that he didn’t recognise at all.

But that was getting beside the point. This Damien was a threat, regardless of his relation to anyone, and he wasn’t even informed of his existence. If that was the case, then just what else was Loptr hiding? Was there an entire Bayonetta family out there, waiting in the wings, to foil his plan for revenge?

More of ‘Damien’s’ words echoed out, as if in response.

“Ask the children he tortured to death.”

His eyes closed as anger spiked through him. It was one thing to attach your existence to his legacy, whatever that meant, but to accuse him of daring to harm children? Balder knew what it was like to lose a child; why would he ever dream of bringing that pain onto another parent?

At the same time, something was asking him why. Why would someone who claimed to be his last legacy also turn around and claim that he had tortured children to death? Damien had been derisive of the former, in his defence; the man had not given him the impression that he was at all proud of the fact.

A final glance at the gathering beneath him solidified his decision. Something had happened in the last five hundred years; he was going to find out what.

Bayonetta turned to the mortal and began talking. The content of her words did not interest him, but one word stood out. One that gave a name to the face he would be hunting;

Luka.

…

The party had decided to split, or so it seemed.

Loki, Bayonetta and Damien were continuing onwards towards the mountain, evidently non-plussed by his appearance and unfazed by the growing threat to them. Balder respected that tenacity, but that was as far of a positive he was willing to give them. The Angel and the mortal had split off, seemingly heading in a random direction. As tempting as it was to follow the trio, he already knew where they were going. It wouldn’t be too difficult to find them again.

Besides, if the mortal was not a thrall, then information would flow freely.

Taking care not to be seen by mortal or Angel eyes alike, Balder trailed the pair at a distance. The traitorous Joy had transformed into a simple-looking woman with auburn hair, wearing a speckled green and white sundress. They had attempted to match the population, but it was very clear who was the human and who was just pretending. Snippets of their conversation floated down to him, carried along the wind in the silence of the night.

“Do you really have to be transformed?” the mortal asked. “It’s kind of distracting.”

“Distracting how? If we are in the mortal realm, we should take care that we are fitting in,” they answered, stumbling slightly. “Although these shoes leave a lot to be desired.”

Balder glanced down on reflex to see that the Joy was wearing flats. The mortal voiced exactly what he was thinking: “Shouldn’t that make it easier to walk?”

“We were born walking in heels. This… flat nonsense is not what we are accustomed to.” A short meent passed and they chuckled. “Besides, now you can understand us without the need for us to replenish that translation spell constantly.”

“That’s fair. Why does it have a time limit?”

That, he knew the answer to. Balder slipped behind a building and followed the alleyway down, stopping and crouching in the shadows of the exit. Some magics, especially those that changed perception, were only as strong as the one who cast them. This Joy many be able to cast this spell, but from his own prodding at their defences, he was assuming that they weren’t strong enough to keep it up for a long time.

What use to Bayonetta would a weak Joy be?

His question was answered the instant he saw them walking around the corner of the building. The face of the disguise was plain, unassuming and completely and utterly forgettable. The role of the Angel was never to duel the Matriarch’s of the Nightstalkers, or to be able to channel Paradiso directly; it was to infiltrate and assimilate to those around them, then assassinate their target once necessary. Even if some of them were skill fighters, their intention in the grand scheme of Paradiso certainly wasn’t.

A person as despicable as Bayonetta would not stop themselves from stooping to this dishonourable low.

“We need to practice. We rarely linger outside of Paradiso long enough to use this spell, and the times we do it is sometimes wholly unnecessary,” they explained with a shake of their head.

“Hey! Practice makes perfect. And I guess with the current situation inside of Paradiso, that makes those opportunities all the easier.”

The what?

Balder unconsciously craned his neck forward, hoping that the Joy would address this particular statement. They, unfortunately did not.

“We’ll remove this horrid disguise once we reach our destination. Then, while we search, we’ll try to keep the spell up for as long as possible.”

“Horrid? I mean, I guess you are having trouble walking, but I think you look nice.” The Mortal rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and Balder almost rolled his eyes. “No offense, but the form you chose is quite pretty.”

“It is plain and simple. What is pretty about it?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I get the vibe that some people who are unnaturally beautiful are trying too hard to hide something. Jeanne used to be like that before she started dating, you know?” he said. “And we figured it was her past still catching up to her. Now-”

“Are you calling Jeanne beautiful? Luka!” The Joy turned to him with a look of faux-offense. It uncannily reminded him of Rosa. A twang of longing passed through him, not for the first time.

“Wha- NO! I’m not! I respectfully call her attractive, because she is! If anything, Damien would be the one calling her beautiful, not me.” The man’s words rushed out like a waterfall. They stopped and he took in a long breath, one that seemed to calm him down.

“What do you mean by that?” The Joy asked.

Luka gave them a look of confusion. “What do you mean by what?”

“Damien calling Jeanne beautiful. Is she not betrothed to another?”

The man rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah, she basically is. And boy, does he know it.”

That brought about a stare of pure confusion, amplified by the Joy’s lack of precision with an unfamiliar face. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

Luka just stared at her incredulously. “Have you not seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is looking?”

“The last time Damien and ourself were in the same area was at Isla Del Sol, which did not feature a Jeanne. We’ve been out of touch since then, mostly because of our commitments to our realms. We have absolutely no idea how he looks at her,” the Joy replied with scorn, stumbling over their feet again. “Does he look at her the same way you look at Bayonetta?”

Balder let the pair pass his crouched position in the alley with a raised eyebrow. So, it wasn’t a coincidence that Damien had arrived when he did; he was another love-struck fool looking for some form of validation. Perhaps Jeanne’s fate had been elucidated to him at a different time and made his way to Noatun then.

It still didn’t explain why Loptr had not informed him of the man’s existence.

The Joy’s innocent statement did not go unnoticed. Balder narrowed his eyes at the mortals tightening posture, taking note of just how uncomfortable he was becoming.

“Wha-no! We are friends, that’s all! And that’s all there will ever be to it! Sheesh, why can’t a guy just be friends with a girl for once!”

“She is considered extremely attractive for a human,” the Joy mentioned.

“And?”

“You are attracted to her.”  

“I’m not!  Gah, just forget it. There’s nothing between us and, in regards to Damien, it’s all just a theory anyway. We both know he would never admit to anything. You know what he’s like.” Luka sighed and pointed to a nearby fork. “Let’s just get back on track. According to Loki, the library should be through this street and on the left.”

Why in the blazes would they be going to a library?

Libraries were vaults of knowledge, yes. But these were pawns of Loki, accomplices of Bayonetta; what use would a library be to them? Every piece of information they could possibly need, they should already have.

He was still blind, yet but a lamb in the grand scheme.

Balder jerked upright and crossed his arms, frowning. He felt that he would have arrived at the same conclusion, not exactly referencing himself in that manner, but that was a little too fast for how he normally worked through problems.

The question then posed from that revelation lead to one answer; that was not his thought.

 Voices inside his head were definitely not something he was unfamiliar with, as both himself and Rosa were used to conversing with their Contracted mentally. But aside from a brief alert from Temperentia to inform him that his powers were back, he had not encountered any of his former confidants. He hadn’t sensed anything enter his mind.

Just who was out there?

Was it an Umbran trick, an attempt to throw him off his game? Balder dismissed the thought as it arrived. Bayonetta was clearly a fighter; any tricks would be physical, not magical. Her brother seemed more inclined towards that school of magic, but he seemed far too brutish for subtlety.

You should pay more attention to your surroundings, Onythyll. Who knows who might be listening in.

Something withdrew from his mind, and he felt a shadowy presence across the street. Glancing up sharply, Balder noticed a figure standing there, watching him. Every part of their being was hidden in the darkness, but the Sage knew their lips had twisted into a cruel smirk.

The figure blurred, then vanished into the night. Balder clenched his fist and slammed it against the wall in fury.

More unknown parties. Just who else was on this accursed island?

…

The library of Noatun, aptly named the Biblioteca, was a modest building situated about four streets from one of the three rivers that quartered the city. It looked to be about four stories tall, standing taller than its neighbours but not extravagantly so. The only reason he knew it was the library was because Luka and the Joy had walked inside.

Well, ‘walked’ wasn’t the correct term to use at all; Luka had attempted to pick the lock only for the Angel to simply kicked the door down in frustration about three seconds in.

Balder glanced around, checking that no one was coming out of their homes to investigate the disturbance. As much as staying in Purgatorio allowed him to remain hidden from prying eyes, dragging mortals into the realm-between was forbidden. He still adhered to that part of their code; interrogating Luka there and exposing him to the dangers was an unnecessary risk to the man, which was something he was not particularly comfortable with.

Moving swiftly, yet with a calm poise of belonging to not arouse any suspicion, Balder crossed the street and pushed aside the ruined remains of the door. He paused before entering, turning around with a crawl up his spine; someone was still watching. His gaze trailed around the rooftops, trying to find a hint of anything out of the ordinary.

Nothing.

Balder assumed that it was the same figure as before, but at the same time he knew that assumption was as likely to be wrong as it was right.

‘You seem apprehensive.’

Loptr’s voice calmed his nerves to a point. Frowning slightly, Balder shook his head and returned to his task.

Have you told me everything about this situation? There was no use in playing dumb. Bluntness would give him the answers he desired.

‘I gave you all the information necessary to help you with your revenge; the who, the what, the where and the why. You have seen the how. What else could you possibly need?’

You did not inform me of this brother. Or the Angel, or the mortal. Balder figured that answers would come if he approached them one at a time.

‘The brother should never have existed,’ Loptr instantly responded, his tone now sharp. ‘No future’s I have seen have ever involved it. Do not worry yourself with it at all.’

He almost questioned that, but then he remembered Loptr’s title: the Prophet. That was what the being had initially introduced himself as, only giving him his true name later. The name itself was familiar, but Balder could not put his finger on why. Loptr was not a common name; he could not remember anything from his studies or anything else that he could clue his struggling mind with. It had to be nothing, he reasoned to himself.

But then why would the name resonate within him?

Why would you not see him? From my brief interaction with him-

‘You have met?’

He swore he heard the smallest amount of panic in those words.

‘Hmph. This brother is meaningless in your revenge. Ignore it.’

And just like that, it was gone. The abrupt change in demeanour threw the Sage off, but he tried to see the logic through it. Bayonetta was the executioner; not her brother. The vile Witch was who was working for Loki, not the brother. Besides possibly sharing her blood, another prospect he was highly doubtful of, the man was innocent in all of this.

He had to at least confirm his theory; is he innocent? Did he have anything to do with the murder of my family?

‘Innocent? Hardly. That… abomination is all that is wrong with the world right now. It is not directly involved with their deaths, no, but it is connected in all other possible ways. Do you want to know what it is?’

Balder froze and focussed on this statement. You know?

‘Some of the Umbra decided to simply construct their own child of light and dark. That ‘brother’ is a poor child who was experimented on until they become something beyond human,’ the Prophet’s words bristled with barely hidden anger, and each word was a burning dagger that melted his body. ‘Bayonetta decided that giving up her baby brother was the best choice for these experiments.’

He couldn’t stop himself. Balder threw open a portal to Purgatorio and screamed. Every emotion, every possible feeling was rushing through him. Fury.

Anger.

Hatred.

He had sacrificed so much. Rosa had sacrificed even more. All for their child that had to be hidden from the Umbra and Lumen.

And they had simply gone ahead and made their own!? What was the point of adhering to the Prophecy out of fear-

The Witches.

His fist tightened and he punched the doorframe. Whatever was left of it flew into the street, clattering and bouncing along the cobblestones. None of it gave him any reprieve.

The Umbra had discovered them first. They told the Lumen. The Lumen captured them. Rosa and Cereza were then handed over to the Umbra, who finally discovered just how strong a child of light and dark was. They killed them, just to hide the fact they were going to create their own as a weapon against all of reality.

Correction; they created it under the orders of Loki. Just so he could rule over all of existence unimpeded. The Father’s sermons played over and over again in his mind, each word ringing truer and truer.

…

“Come on!”

Norik’s youthful voice dragged his eyes away from staring the intricate designs of the cathedral. Balder blinked and shook his head, attempting to refocus on his friend. A flash of bright red hair passed by him and he found himself looking straight at a toothy grin.

“We are going to miss our first sermon as Lumen Sages! We have to-”

“Norik, we are not Sages yet. We are merely beginners of the clergy, not anything to be compared to our brothers,” Balder corrected, reciting the passage from memory. “And besides, the schedule says that we do not need to be here for another-”

“Who cares about what the schedule has to say? We are here now! We can get in and get the best seats!” Norik grabbed at the sleeve of his smock and tugged. “And once we have them, everyone else will have to look past us!”

Balder internally shuddered. “Look, we should not be assuming ourselves better than anyone. We merely have begun our journey; hundreds of years will need to pass before we even get a chance to be counted amongst the ranks of the Holy Warriors.”

“Ehh, we’ll get there. They always say that the next generation will outclass the previous, and that’s not to mention we were both selected due to our potential. I think we’ll be just fine.”

He pulled his sleeve from Norik’s grasp and raised it up. Holding it against his chest, he slipped his fingers around the cross on his necklace. “I believe that She Above All will judge us when the time comes, friend.”

“Have some faith, Balder! Anyway, the doors are open; let’s go!”

And he was correct. The massive, carved stone doors of the cathedral were opening up, slowly and noisily dragging themselves along the floor. The crowd around them began to slowly move forward, increasing in pace as the entrance widened up. The pair were swept along with the mass of humanity, with Balder tripping as he was pushed around by the fervour that was sweeping through those.

He couldn’t blame them. His own excitement and anticipation were building up, almost causing a giddy smile to break out on his face. But he did not let it. A Sage controlled his emotions and never let them affect his centre. Swallowing everything down, he straightened his face and continued onwards.

The interior was just as magnificent as the exterior. Large, vaulting columns rose up from the floor, carved from ornate white marble. Rows upon rows of pews surrounded a raised centre stage, each section coloured by a radiance from the ceiling. Frowning, Balder craned his neck back and his eyes widened at the sight. Stained-glass illustrations made up the ceiling, each one portraying events from throughout history.

The creation of the world, as formed by Omne.

The fissure of the world, along with She Above All, Aesir, and Argosax.

The Betrayal of Argosax, showing the fall of the former Lord of the Underworld.

The split of Aesir, portraying the two Eyes of the World.

And finally, the betrayal of Mundus, illustrating the final stand of Sparda and the seal he created with Temen-Ni-Gru to lock Inferno away forever.

Light shone through each one, illuminating the sections beneath it with a myriad of colours. The sight was breathtaking; there was nothing the Umbra could do that rivalled the magnificence of this. There was nothing the Nightstalkers could do that belayed the majesty of this.

It was simply incomparable.

“Come on Balder! They are about to start!”

Norik’s voice again broke him out of his reverie, bringing his attention away from the glorious sight of the cathedral and to a nearby pew. The pair scrambled to take a seat, with his friend throwing him grins of both nervousness and excitement.

“Aren’t you excited?” he asked, nudging his shoulder.

Balder hesitated, then answered plainly; “A Sage does not show emotion, nor partiality.”

Norik raised an eyebrow. “You said we aren’t Sages yet.”

“That is true.” A thin smile broke out on his face. “Then I supposed I can admit I am very excited.”

A hush fell upon the crowd and the pair instantly were glued to the centre platform. The Lumen Father was descending from the heavens, his peacock coat billowing from a non-existent wind. His half-mask covered the right side of his face, contrasting against the blue of the Right Eye of the World.

Balder swallowed and bowed his head at the sight. That was the treasure he would dedicate his life to protect, above all else.

“My Lumen Brothers, my family…” His voice was old, yet powerful and kindly. Balder’s fingers found his pendant again.

“I welcome you today for, of all things, a joyous welcoming to all of our new family. This year is the first to provide us with more than thirty aspirants who have chosen the path of the Sage. Every one of them had sacrificed their previous life to be with us; let us pray that this is not in vain.”

The crowd muttered a small hymn in prayer, and Balder found his lips moving along with words he did not recognise or understand. This must be the holy language of Angels they were speaking, Enochian.

A nudge from his left again drew his gaze in that direction. Norik pointed at themselves with excitement in his eyes; “That’s us! He’s talking about-”

“Silence!” he hissed in return. Norik instantly quietened down and bowed his head as well.

“Thank you,” the Father said once the hymn had finished. “I do bring good news from our sister-clan of the Umbra; they too had a large yield of aspirants who seek to fight against the darkness and protect the Left Eye of the World. The mortals of the world are slowly acclimating themselves to our presence, which can never not be a boon. The more protectors to Aesir’s legacy, the stronger that defence becomes.”

“But… that is not all. I have communed with the Elder’s of the other clans, and it has become more apparent with each passing year that separation is not an objective of our core beliefs any longer.”

That caused some discontent in the crowd. There was a smattering of mutters and murmurs in the silence that followed, but they all died down within seconds.

“We protect Aesir’s legacy, as do the Umbra Witches. To become stronger, we need to align our goals and teachings with each other. As such, this year’s aspirants will be subject to joint classes and studies with our sister clan.”

Balder expected there to be an uproar, a cacophony of disapproval from the crowd. He certainly disapproved; the teachings of the Lumen were far more than necessary to teach him. That was all he needed to know! The Umbra could not teach him anything about devotion or humility or honour.

But there was only a shocked silence.

“Now, you must understand that not everything is as it seems. A storm is approaching, violent and unpredictable. The Umbran Elder knows this, the Night Mother knows this, the High Priestess too; inter-clan relationships need to be stronger and tighter. As the Nightstalkers and Desert Walkers are a little further out than we can afford to travel, as they are well beyond my reach, both myself and Matryona decided between us to allow our clans to interjoin our learnings for this inevitability.”

The Father paused, as if to gather his thoughts. “But we must still be vigilant. The Prophecy of old still lingers over our heads and, above all else, we cannot let it come to pass. The Umbra will be your colleagues, your allies; they are not your friends. They are deceitful and cunning, the opposite to you. Even if you keep on your path of purity, they will tempt you. Treat them like one of your contracted, and nothing more.”

…

The memory faded, but his fury did not. Balder closed his eyes, holding back tears, anger, emotions…

Everything.

The Father had been right. He should never have fraternised with the Umbra beyond their professional relationship. All it had brought was-

No. It would be an insult to Rosa and Cereza to even begin to follow that train of thought. Without rebelling against his orders… he would have never met Rosa. As much as his younger self would have objected otherwise, Balder’s years after leaving the Lumen and living with her and their child had been the happiest of his life.

‘Now do you understand?’ Loptr spoke up, a calm amongst the chaos. ‘I knew and lived amongst them. The hypocritical whelps never once thought about the consequences of their actions, and yet force them upon others.

The Umbra wanted their God. The Umbra wanted something far stronger and powerful than their peers and enemies, so that they were the supreme force. And look what happened; they killed those they could not control, then those who opposed them. An abomination was born, their hypocrisy wrought into existence, at the cost of their life.’

Balder opened his eyes. Why would they need such a creation?

‘You know of Cereza’s potential. Imagine the possibilities of something of her potential left to grow unchecked,’ he answered. ‘They created something that only a Primordius could hope to contain.’

The fury dropped and the hairs on the back his neck stood up. That was a turn of phrase he had not heard, either in his studies or in past conversations with Loptr.

But at the same time, something wasn’t making sense. The man he had fought was not much stronger than the Witch, who wasn’t even as strong as himself; how was a primordial being considered the fail-safe? Balder could admit he was not fighting at his full strength against either Bayonetta or Damien, as he was still trying to test them for weaknesses, but it felt that they were not performing the same tasks as he was.

In what way is that possible?

‘When their true potential shines, you will know.’

Their?

There was no answer. Loptr receded from his mind, and Balder slowly turned back to the library, his mind trying to make sense of what had just transpired.

Riddles could wait. His mission could not. Clearing his head ofall thoughts, Balder strode into the library with renewed vigour.

…

The library was abandoned, as he expected at this time of night. Treading softly once he had entered the atrium proper, the only sounds that echoed through were the footsteps of his prey and the crinkling of books. The room was dimly lit by sparse candles that glowed in a set pattern, obviously by the Angel to keep track of their path. Of the seven rows of book-laden shelves, only the two furthest to the left were illuminated.

An intelligent move, to be sure. But while in unknown territory and when they knew there were foes unaccounted for?

Balder’s gaze lifted to a painting that overlooked the three central aisle; it depicted an old interpretation of Death, cloaked in darkness, overlooking a field of Elysium. The longer he stared at it, the more unsettling it became. Each soul was screaming in the fields of paradise and the skeleton seemed to be grinning directly at the painter, its fingers wrapped around a strange weapon composed of intersecting swords instead of the typical scythe.

Just what was the artist depicting? He shook his head and moved on, each step away still carrying the uncertainty that something was watching. It was definitely not the painting.

He found the Angel first. The Joy had a trolley full of books and was flipping through them at an alarming rate. A glance at the spines made him frown; all of them were books detailing history and myth. He knew the pair had come to this library for a reason, presumably research, but this? History? What was in the past that they needed to know?

“Useless…” the Joy spat, tossing the book in its hands onto the growing pile of discards behind it. It had shed its disguise and was roaming in the mortal realm as an Angel, and the incongruity of the scene finally clicked a previously unseen puzzle piece into place in Balder’s mind. Access to the mortal realm had been closed off for all Laguna long before his time, unless they were summoned via a conduit. This one had seemingly entered without any issues; something else must have changed.

“Found anything?”

There. The mortal was a few shelves across. Balder gave the Joy one last glance and slipped across the aisle, finding him perched on a ladder, reaching up to the top shelf as he continued to speak.“For me, I’ve found one snippet on Loptr, nothing on Loki, and a boatload of nothing on Aesir.”

Shouldn’t Loki have told them who Loptr was?

“Keep looking,” the Joy said after a pause. “There will be something. We are certain of it.”

“Gah. Considering Aesir used to live here, it makes sense for someone to take everything with information about them away so we are still left completely in the dark. Luka leaned his elbows on the shelf, resting his weight against it. “But Loki and Loptr? Surely, they would have something on them?”

“This is Loptr’s domain. If he wishes for no one to learn about this place, it makes sense for him to-”

“You think Loptr is the Prophet?”

They did not know anything. Balder began to approach the mortal, each step another silent curse at their sloppiness. The only logical explanation was Loki had set them up to fail.

But why?

Loki had some very powerful, if not at least useful, puppets at his disposal. Wasting them on busywork was pointless.

“Who else could it be? Loki has a brother, who is known as Loptr. Our adversary has some kind of connection to Loki as well, so we imagine that the connection leads there.”

Luka scoffed, stepping down from the ladder. “Aesir, and Loki by association, are thousands upon thousands of years old. And that’s understating it by a lot.”

“Your point is?”

“There’s gotta be someone else he’s pissed off in that time. Maybe one of the other Primordius-”

“This is not Mundus or Argosax’s style. The Prince of Darkness has his own methods of causing insurrections, and his base of operations is Mallet Island,” the Joy cut over him, their voice sharp. “The Despair Embodied has not been seen in a millennium.”

“What about those rumours of Dante killing them?”

That name again. Loptr had mentioned something about a problematic Dante before, and had withheld answers when Balder had tried to inquire further. The best he had was that the man was a Devil Hunter.

Which, of course, confused him to all end. Why would Loptr care about a Devil Hunter? The only logical explanation was that he was trying to stop the man from destroying the demon they had used to steal Jeanne away, but Balder knew that incursions into Inferno were difficult since the raising of Temen-Ni-Gru.

“Considering there was no body and we can still sense them lurking in the depths of Inferno, they are possibly unfounded.”

Balder noticed a doorway off to the right, labelled with ‘meeting room’. Edging towards it, he began to close the distance between both himself, it, and the man.

“Well, no use in discussing hypotheticals. Gotta keep on looking, and look we shall.” Luka stretched his arms above his head. “Do you want me to keep quiet?”

“We prefer silence when studying,” came the curt answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Balder slowly wrapped his fingers around the handle and reached out. The room had no windows in from the library itself; it would be perfect for a conversation without prying eyes.

In one smooth motion, he grabbed hold of Luka’s collar and opened the door. He pulled the mortal back before he could register the sudden change in scenery, twisting around to haul him bodily off his feet and tossing his hat of their head. Closing the door silently, Balder summoned half of his glaive and pressed it against his prisoner’s neck.

“If you scream for help, you’ll never scream again,” he whispered, and the mortal stiffened in his grip. “Now, I’m going to let you go. When I do, you will sit in that chair. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He hated how terrified Luka was. This was all sorts of wrong, and he knew it. Mortals were supposed to be prideful of their protectors, both Sage and Witch, not cowering from them in terror.

“Good.” Balder released him and dematerialised the glaive. Luka practically threw himself at the chair, staring back at him with fear-blown pupils and a face so pale Balder wondered whether or not he still had blood. He clicked his fingers, and the room briefly glowed gold from the Lumen Symbol appearing on the door. Satisfied with the silence spell, he focussed on the man sat before him.

He took the time to take in the mortal’s appearance. He was young, perhaps slightly younger than Balder’s own visage, with smooth brown hair reaching just past his chin. His eyes, darting around the room with increasingly rapid agitation, were a clear and pleasant grey. Even the unkempt stubble on his chin looked more like an intentional choice to frame his face as opposed to a sign of sloppy hygiene, which is more than Balder would have said of most of his peers around the same age. It felt safe to assume the primary reason Bayonetta would keep someone like this around was for eye candy.

He was, as Norik would put it, quite the looker.

“Who are you?” The name was known; Balder wanted something a little more substantial than that.

“Fuck you.”

He was impressed by the fire of rebellion that was still burning, despite the obvious terror. But still, the vulgarities were very disagreeable. “You do understand that I could have killed you just as easily as I brought you here, correct?”

“Well, then why haven’t you done so?” Luka asked, still not answering the question.

“Why do you think, Luka?”

A strange shiver convulsed the mortal, his eyes bugging out almost comically. “How do you know my name!?”

“There are many things I know, Luka, but who you are is not one of them. I wish to learn.” Balder reached up, removed his mask and lowered his hood. His long, silver hair cascaded down his shoulders, finally free from its cloth prison. He almost let out a sigh of relief, but he controlled himself. “Please, tell me who you are. I will not ask again.”

Luka sat in stunned silence, his eyes boring into Balder’s with shock and confusion. He swallowed and, after a few seconds of opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, said, “I don’t owe you any explanations, pretty boy.”

Balder closed the gap between them in the space between seconds and grabbed onto the headrest of the chair. The mortal shrieked and covered his head, cowering in fear. “You will tell me who you are, mortal. I can drag your answers out of you if I need to, or I could simply take them straight from the source.” He tapped one finger against Luka’s temple. “I’m merely giving you the luxury of being able to tell me yourself under your own free will.”

He was bluffing. Balder had no intentions of harming Luka, unless the man wanted to escalate the situation. Taking a few steps backwards, he waited for the mortal’s next move.

“I’m Luka,” came the defeated answer. “Luka Redgrave. My friends call me Cheshire and no, you are not my friend.”

“I’m not planning to be, Redgrave. Who are your family? I do not recognise the Redgrave name, nor its bloodline.”

“Dead. My mother died from… medical complications, and my father was murdered by a Lumen Sage.”

Balder could not stop his sharp intake of breath. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. “Explain yourself. Why would a Sage want to murder your father? He was nothing more than a mortal, correct?”

“Of course, he was just a mortal; he’s my Dad! My father worked with the ‘great’ Lumen Sage Balder, finding out all of his dirty secrets in the process. Once the asshole had no more further uses for him, he was deemed… expendable.” The last word had a deeper tone to it, as if he was mockingly paraphrasing someone.

The inadvertent insult from the man barely registered on his mind. Balder could count on one finger how many Lumen Sages had the name Balder; this man was specifying him. But what in the glory of the Creator would possibly drive him to murder, presumably, a mortal? Mortals were mortal; they expired. Any secrets they had would die with them.

And what secret would he have-

“Your father knew about my daughter!?”

Within a blink he had slammed Luka against the wall, fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. Anger was burning through him; death was but a mere release for Luka’s father if he had been the one to inform his former brothers of Cereza’s existence.

“Why… why would Balder c-c-care about…” Luka wheezed, his own hands ineffectually prying at the death grip around his neck.

And with those words, logic began to break through. The mortal had no idea that he was Balder. His father would have been murdered in, at most, the last twenty years, given his age. Cereza died over five hundred years ago.

There was no possible connection between the two.

The anger faded and guilt clawed its way into the forefront. Letting the mortal down, Balder turned around and began fixing the chair back upright. “I apologise. My daughter was murdered, and I’ve only learned of how and why very recently. I do not blame you, but-”

“You were affected by him too? Sheesh,” Luka massaged his throat, his eyes relaxing in understanding. “I guess it makes sense, trying to create a child of light and dark from someone already of the light.”

What?

The Sage halted in all movement and tried to think about how he was supposed to approach this. He had stolen children in an attempt to create another child of light and dark? That… It was completely nonsensical! The Umbra had been the ones to commit this atrocity! The Prophet had just told him!

“I mean, if all the Clans were killed off in the Witch Hunts, then turning to your own brothers for experiment material makes sense,” the mortal continued, completely unaware of Balder’s internal conflict. “And here I thought you were trying to avenge Balder by going after Bayonetta.”

“I have a score to settle with the Witch, mortal, one that can only end with her slain at my feet,” he snapped. Balder did not know exactly what Luka was implying, but he would be damned if it included himself and the Witch on the same side.

“What’s your problem with her anyway? She’s never met a Lumen Sage besides Balder,” Luka said, frowning deeply. “Just who are you?”

The answer was upon his tongue before he could consider the question. “It doesn’t matter. If you will not tell me about yourself, then tell me about her.”

The mortal shook his head and took a step backwards. “I don’t think-”

Balder summoned an orb of fire and tossed it at the wall. It exploded in an array of reds and oranges, bursting outwards like a blooming flower that blackened into ashes. The sudden flash and noise drew a terrified squeak from Luka, who flinched and cowered away from him. “I am tired of your insistence to not give me any answers. Tell me about her, mortal. I want to know.”

“What else is there to tell! She… she was torn from her family as a child, raised by the Umbra – who, by the way, quite frankly would have rather left her in a ditch to die – and then she was put to sleep by her best friend for five hundred years for her protection!” he burst out, emotions running high. “And when she wakes up, she has no memories and has to navigate a world that’s completely alien to her, around people who want nothing more than to abuse her for her power and people like me who wanted to kill her!”

Luka then shook his head, almost in sadness. “And you know what? It gets even more fucked up! So we get to the man who had ruined her life, and he’s murdering millions in an attempt to create her a brother? Why? Because he could. He took her family away from her, ripped away every single fucking thing she held dearest, because he could. He took way her best friend for no reason other than he could!”

Balder stood motionless, trying to analyse everything the mortal had said. Why would the Umbra take in a child they obviously despised? Why would he order – actually, that was easy to explain. It would make sense for him to keep a close watch on the other Clans once he returned to his time; if they began to stray from their purpose, then they too would face judgement. The new information about Bayonetta and Damien’s relationship was starting to paint a clearer image of why the pair shared no physical traits.

But the man could be lying. The truth, as told by Loptr, was already disproving a lot of what Luka’s story supposedly ‘explained’. Bayonetta had not been put to sleep; she had been murdering his wife and child, then tossing her brother towards Umbran Sorceresses for experimentation. The mere fact Luka was telling him that he was the one to perform these experiments was nothing short of maddening.

Balder managed to keep his temperament in check. Swallowing to make sure his emotions did not swell over, he responded briefly, “What was this ‘Balder’s’ plan?”

“Pretty simple. Reawaken the Creator, recreate the universe in his image, and rule over it as a ‘benevolent dictator.’ And guess who stopped him? His long-lost daughter.”

A cold chill spread through Balder, tingling and burning. His eyes hardened and his breathing slowed to a crawl. “What did you say?”

“Balder had a child, you know? A Child of Light and Dark,” Luka started, each word a biting bullet that burst through his body, splitting him open in every passing second. “He enthralled her mother, made an innocent child believe she had a loving family when all-”

He had heard more than enough. Balder summoned his glaive and pointed it at the man’s throat. “Do not utter another word about them.”

“Why? You know how many times I’ve had to console her while she cried for someone to fucking love her, because her parents surely didn’t?” The mortal snapped. “Balder saw both of them as nothing more than a tool to use and throw away. She’s never mentioned any theories or thoughts about it, but I believe that he personally killed her mother just to tie up loose ends-”

“ENOUGH LIES! MY CHILD IS DEAD!”

The door burst open, flying apart in shards of wood and a strange blocky substance. The Joy from before stood there, lowering their leg with a hat held in one hand. Their mouth was set in grim determination that quickly fell apart into shock when they got a good look at his unmasked face.

“Balder?”

“Balder?” the mortal cried out and a quick glance showed the Sage that he was on the edge of a panic attack. “Balder!?”

Balder swung his body around until he was pointing his weapon at the Angel. “You recognise me, traitor. How?”

“What are you doing with Luka?” They ignored his question, tossing the hat aside and transforming their hands into guns. “Get away from him!”

“Answer my question first.”

The Joy braced themself by spreading their legs out to give them a sturdier base. Their upper body was still loose, ready for any action or reaction they would need to take. “We were there, five hundred years ago, when we warned you about the threat to your family. And you repaid that gesture of faith with the genocide of millions.”

“I have done no such thing,” he growled in response, swinging the glaive across to hold it with both hands. “Your accusations are unfounded, traitor.”

“We are not traitors! You gave up on your oath, you enslaved Paradiso-”

“I do not have the power to usurp She Above All, traitor. If you know me, then you would know that.” Another statement that made no sense. If he wasn’t already prepared to kill both Bayonetta and Loki on sight, Balder would honestly be interested in sitting down and listening to their whole fabricated story. It was very fascinating.

But what if they were ri-

No. Loptr was right. He would not doubt the path laid before him.

“You did! Do not try to delude us into believing our history is false!” the Joy snarled. “You took my sisters, my family, my life from me!”

“Can we go back to the part where my father’s murderer is standing right there!?” Luka cried out, pointing towards him. “And I thought you were another victim of… yourself!”

“I killed your father?” Balder spared a single, incredulous glance at the mortal. “I have no idea whom your family is!”

“Luka, get out of here! You know Bayonetta would kill me if a hair on your head was harmed,” they snapped, moving aside to open up a gap between themself and the doorway.

“I just want to know why this fucker is still alive!” He shook his head. “I’m not leaving until I find out.”

Had they not worked it out yet? Balder scoffed and lowered his weapon slightly: “I am from the past. Whatever happened to my future self clearly has not occurred yet.”

“We were wondering why you looked so young…” the Joy muttered, then shook their head. “It doesn’t matter. You are here to harm the Arch Eve and Luka. You are still a threat, regardless of who you are.”

Balder gritted his teeth and returned his glaive to its offensive stance. He could sense the mortal to his right, tensed and ready for action. The Joy copied his movements, still trying to herd Luka out of the room.

They need not have bothered.

He started by splitting his glaive in two and spun both to imbue them both with energy. Balder then slammed them against the floor, launching out a concussive blast with himself safe at the epicentre. The unreinforced wall that divided this meeting room from the library was obliterated, along with the closest row of books. The mortal was flung back into the wall with a meaty smack. One sharp cry of pain erupted from his throat, and then there was silence. The Joy rode the blast out, flipping to land against the second aisle.

Magically formed bullets flew at him. Balder summoned a barrier in response, reforming his glaive into one and watched as they impacted ineffectually on the golden surface. The Joy dropped down from the shelf, crouching and flipping forward in a very Umbra-like manoeuvre. Their heels spilt the shield in two, only to be met by a thrust from his glaive.

The Joy spun around his blade, transforming their guns into a pair of short, curved swords. One slashed down at him from the right, aimed directly at his neck. Balder leaned away and split his own weapon into two as well, flinging one at the sword held in their left land. They collided with a dull ‘clang’, spinning out of both of their grips and across the room, and they were both once again left with one weapon apiece.

Balder wasted no time gripping the elongated handle of his glaive with both hands, kicking the Joy’s remaining sword out of the way and raising his own above his head. His follow-up slash missed as the Joy disengaged with a twirl, morphing their weapon back into a single pistol. More bullets sprayed towards him and he simply raised his left hand in response. Reality flickered as time crawled to a halt, allowing him to close the distance with a sprint. He drove his free arm’s elbow into their stomach and followed up with an uppercut slice that began to launch the Angel upwards. A click of his fingers restored the natural passage of time and the Joy slammed into the ceiling, causing dust and debris to rain down.

The attack only temporarily stunned his foe. They pulled themself free from the wood and stone and transformed their weapon into a whip. It struck out with several ear-shattering cracks, forcing him onto his back foot in order to duck and weave beneath them. Landing softly on the stone tiles, the Angel took the advantage and rushed forward, returning the whip back into its longsword form and disappearing with a flicker of gold and green flashes.

Balder jolted back, frowning intensely. Was that a cloak spell? Teleportation? What had-

His instincts screamed from his left, and he resummoned the second half of his blade to deflect a thrust from the Joy’s sword with mere milliseconds to spare. Joining its halves back together, Balder rotated his glaive in a wide arc and flipped over his swing to blast the Angel with ice. He missed, unfortunately, and watched as the Joy disappeared again.

This time, the attack was from behind. Balder managed to anticipate this one, turning and grabbing the sword with one hand as it thrust in. With a grunt of exertion, he pulled it backwards to knock the Joy off-balance. They stumbled forward, and he took advantage of the lapse of defence and splayed his palm out.

A blue orb of lightning formed over his hand, then launched itself at point-blank range at the Angel. It connected, shocking the Joy into distorted screams of pain. Balder then dismissed his glaive and reached up with one hand, silently gathering his power. A larger glaive-blade formed above him, then slammed down onto the defenceless being with a loud and resonant clang.

Only it didn’t. The Joy disappeared with a flash of green light, then something tumbled onto Balder and knocked him over. Before he could even begin to comprehend what was happening, a fist began to smash repeatedly into his nose. The first strike broke it, and the remaining began to splatter blood and cartilage everywhere. With a roar, he resummoned his glaive and kicked the Joy off him, warping himself back into a standing position.

The Joy flipped backwards with the momentum, cartwheeling out of the way of Balder’s follow-up slam. Balder delayed for a second, then pirouetted into an overhead spin. The forces pulled his body horizontal and he became a whirlwind of death. The assault was not lethal, however, but it was effective; it sliced up both the floor and the Angel’s defences, slamming the Laguna into the ground repeatedly and tearing its body to shreds. Gasps of pain echoed through the building, each one music to his ears. Twirling back upright when he began to fall back to Earth, the Sage merely raised his fist and punched the falling Joy in the head.

The heavy blow launched them, sending the Angel crashing back into row two. This time they fell back to the ground, landing heavily against the stone floor. Golden ichor leaked from every wound Balder had inflicted in the flurry, spreading in contrast to his own red blood that lay in puddles, staining the stone.

“Did you really think you could challenge me?” Balder growled, raising himself back into a standing position. Green energy spread out from his glaive, healing every part of his injured body from the brief skirmish. He summoned an orb of fire above his free hand, holding it aloft. “You are weak.”

The Joy slowly began to raise themself off the ground, each movement aggravating their bleeding wounds further. “We know. But we had to try.”

“Why does Bayonetta keep you around? Are you her pet, like the mortal?” He tossed the fireball at them, watching it scald and blacken their chest Garbled screams ripped from their throat and he slammed the flat side of his glaive against their head to shut them up.

He should kill them. This Joy would be another loose end that would need addressing before he was finished here.

But at the same time…

Why would they so foolishly throw their life away for a murderer? Why would they heed themself to the command of the one who was manipulating fate to his design? The proud Laguna bowed to no one but Jubileus; why would this be the path they had chosen?

“Who are you, Laguna?” Balder spoke in Enochian, lowering his blade into a neutral position, hanging loosely by his side. This battle was very clearly over.

“We… We are Hope… as… titled…” their voice was failing. Death was but a certainty for the Angel now. “…by… Benevolence…”

That was a name he did not expect to hear. He had harboured doubts that this Angel was one of the three that had approached him on that fateful day, but true names of Laguna were not shared so easily. To know it with such familiarity confirmed their identity.

“Why did you come back now? And not when my child was slaughtered, along with my wife!?” he burst out, fury building back up. “Where were you!?”

“You…” Hope slowly turned to him, their hidden eyes accusing. Their movements were becoming increasingly sluggish and heavy. “You changed. We couldn’t… find you… for four years… and when you returned… you were… different.”

The rage subsided and he narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, different?”

“We’re dying…” they whispered, fading out of consciousness.

A second passed, and Balder knew what he had to do.

The glaive disappeared and green energy coalesced around his hands. He quickly knelt beside the Joy and placed them on their shoulders. The spell passed from him into the Angel, and all of their wounds began to knit themselves back together.

They had attempted to save the lives of his family. It would be wrong for him to let them die.

You tried to kill them, did you not? Why save your enemies when you could crush them?

That voice again!

His head snapped up, looking towards the darkened sections of the library. Again, he could barely make out a shadowy figure, watching and smirking at the scene before.

And that is why you are weak. You know what you must do, yet you do not have the strength to do it.

Something rustled, and the previous feeling of being watched came back, this time one-hundred-fold. Balder’s eyes slowly dragged themselves away from the figure to the painting-

It was empty. All it depicted was a golden-brown field under a black sky.

A shriek of laughter broke through the silence, followed by a chorus of giggles. Balder slowly stood up, his eyes darting everywhere in an attempt to find the culprits. His glaive reappeared in a flash of light, both hands gripping the handle loosely. He left the Joy, their wounds still knitting back together, and stood up to face the darkness.

“What sort of devilry is this?” he asked the echoing laughter, not expecting an answer.

He got one anyway.

Five of those strange, intersecting weapons phased through the bookcases around him, each one snapping shut and opening repeatedly. Skeletal hands gripped the ends of these conjoined and crossed swords, followed by billowing cloaks of pure darkness. Four of these figures had pale, expressionless faces that stared blankly at him; they seemed to be attached to the cloaks themselves, changing his earlier assumption that there were bodies underneath. Those same four also glowed a deep purple, a colour that was only distinguishable through the black due to the fifth being at their centre.

The leader, or so he assumed, did not carry a conjoined pair of swords. It carried a pair of scythes that burned with orange fire; the same colour emanated from it in a glow. This one’s face was a cow’s skull, glowing red with a piercing gaze of pure malice.

“A Death Scythe…” Hope was behind him now, their voice strained. They had not healed fully yet, but they were still ready to “And Sin Scissors. Both of which should be impossible to be here.”

“Well, they are. But what do you mean?”

“Mundus’s power and influence fell once he was stripped of the Rule of Inferno, and his Primordius status,” they answered, their hands forming into guns. “His servants abandoned him and flocked to Sheba. This is unlike her.”

That was surprising. “Madama Sheba is the Empress of-”

“Queen,” Hope instantly corrected.

“It doesn’t matter. Sheba never liked Sages to begin with; to defeat the last living Sage would be a pleasure for her all the same.” Balder watched as the five spectral Demons began to circle above the pair, laughing and clashing their weapons together in a primal form of intimidation.

“Sheba knows what’s at stake. She would not dare harm the human.”

“Luka? She wouldn’t care about-”

“There is much you do not know.”

There is much you both do not know.

Both statements arrived simultaneously. Balder’s frown deepened and his unease grew; as much as he did not want to admit it, both were correct. The events, as told to him by Loptr, were starting to lose credibility with every passing second-

Why was he listening to a Joy, especially one that worked with his enemies? Or to a shadowy figure that was still too cowardly to show their face?

The Death Scythe then decided it had waited long enough. A piercing wail erupted from its lungs, rippling through the air as a miasma of despair. Balder flinched at the onslaught, but raised one hand and closed it into a tight fist.

“LEVANAEL!”

Lightning struck true, knocking the Demon out of its sonic attack and staggering it down to Earth. Before Balder could capitalise on the opening the four Sin Scissors swarmed forward, their blades opening wide. He rolled beneath them and felt the stiff breeze that followed their strike blow past. The force from their speed alone was enough to stagger him into a braced crouch. He stayed on the ground, relaxing his muscles and watching the Demons vigilantly.

The Joy sprang into action, leaping over the sweep and bouncing off the head of the closest Sin Scissor. Their hands transformed into dual maces, and they brought them down with a cry of exertion-

Another Sin Scissor barrelled into them before they had the chance to strike. The Demon laughed as the pair flew at the third bookcase across, slamming into it and knocking it over into number four. Two other Demons flew after them, their weapons clashing and clanging in a sporadic pattern. Balder slowly stood up and gathered his wits as the fourth demon began to circle around him; this may have been an unfamiliar foe, but his quest would not end here.

Tossing his glaive forward, Balder spread his arms out wide and thrust them forward to release a beam of concentrated time. The weapon was parried by the… – he was going to call these intersecting blades shears now – but his magic landed true. The air rippled and distorted around the partially frozen Demon, and Balder knew he had to strike now. The glaive reappeared in his right hand as he sprinted forward, looking up at its expressionless mask; that was where Hope had initially focussed. Considering it was one of two tangible objects on the Demon, it had to contain something; either its core or a weakness.

Leaping up, Balder pointed his glaive down and tried to stab it into the mask. It deflected off ineffectually, and for the first time in his life the Sage cursed himself for not choosing something more suited to bludgeoning as his favoured weapon. Landing on its shoulders, he noticed that there was an indent running around the mask.

The mask was atop something. It was a layer of protection; he had to strip it away.

Balder broke his glaive apart and pierced both halves into the gap. With a mighty wrench the mask popped off, revealing a fleshy, pulsating ball. He stared at it for a solid second of disgust, then thrust one half of his glaive into it. Fire wrapped around his palm and snaked its way into the flesh, blackening and burning it. The time spell weakened, then collapsed, releasing a shriek of pure agony into the world. Flipping off of the burning corpse, Balder combined his glaive again and watched with satisfaction as the shears fell from its hand to the ground, penetrating the stone with ease.

A chorus of shrieks grabbed at his attention, pulling Balder back to the three other Demons floating above. Their expressionless masks were fixated upon him, but their agitated movements told him they were anything but calm.

A smirk slowly formed upon his lips. “I know your weakness, fiends. You will no longer be a challenge.”

Before either he or the remaining Sin Scissors could act, a whip cracked and one of the three was instantly dragged down. Balder watched as Hope morphed their hand into a mace and clubbed the stone mask of the Demon, shattering it completely. They disengaged with a twirl, transforming the mace into a pistol and firing into the true body. The Demon exploded and their shears went flying, spinning and bouncing off the nearby wall.

“Do not lose focus, Balder!” Hope called out, focussing their attention on the remaining Sin Scissors. “We will handle these two; you must finish off the Death Scythe!”

Laughter echoed in response, and Balder turned around to find the aforementioned Demon floating a foot above the ground, its gaze boring into his own. The scythes twirled and something launched him into the air. Quickly recovering his orientation, the Sage found himself being tossed by pillars of hardened fire and light. He could see something approaching him from the corner of his eye, and he swung his glaive to parry the first strike from the foe.

It was unrelenting; the dual wielding had the disadvantage of lacking a sturdy defence, but its offensive was practically doubled in exchange. Balder found himself at a complete disadvantage in this fight. Not only was he currently airborne with no real way of returning to the ground – his least favoured form of combat – he could not find an opening to exploit. Every swing and parry were mirrored by a swing from the opposite scythe, forcing him to defend or be sliced apart by the blade.

The Death Scythe retreated back, then began to spin its arms around its body. It approached him again, the air beginning to shimmer in a tornado. Balder’s eyes widened in alarm. What was he meant to do in a situation like this?

‘Do not panic, my lord,’ Temperentia’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘There is a way.’

Time slowed down as the Lord of the Winds bolstered Balder’s resolve. The Death Scythe was still moving at incredible speeds, but he now had more time to think. Balder started by looking down to figure out why he was held aloft; it seemed that these pillars were inverting gravity, if not removing it entirely. Thrusting his palm out, he tried to counteract the spell but he could not figure out how to interact with the magic.

He didn’t really have a choice, but he could make do with this aerial assault. It would be an insult to his training

Balder looked back up to see the Death Scythe mere metres away. Aligning himself upright, he closed on fist and gestured with the other.

“ALLAR DE OL!”

A golden chain burst from his hand, wrapping around the closest scythe. Balder gripped onto the chaim, pulling back on it once it tightened. Time resumed as normal and the scythe was torn from Death Scythe’s grip. The spell beneath Balder crumpled and he began to fall to the ground.

In the background he could see the pair of Sin Scissor sweeping their blades at Hope, who dodged with an acrobatic leap. They landed on bookcase five, grabbing the top shelf and hurling it at the closest Demon. The projectile shattered into splinters and paper, but the Demon shook it off with a giggle.

The Death Scythe roared and Balder return to see it whirling its weapon above its head, holding it now with both hands. A new barrage of attacks forced him to duck and weave under some, and to deflect those that came too close. Growling with exasperation, Balder whipped the chain up in an attempt to throw the demon out of its fury.

It worked… to an extent. The Death Scythe merely countered with a swipe that tore apart the chain, but it had stopped its advance on the falling Sage; Balder once more had time to think. Bracing himself, he landed on the ground with a roll and glanced up to see that opportunity had now passed. The Demon had recovered from the momentary distraction and was hurtling toward him.

Magic seemed to be an issue for it. Maybe he should try that.

The glaive disappeared and he spun his arms around in a circle, staring down and raising them up above his head. Power surged through him and he released it with a single word:

“QUANSB!”

A portal of red and white opened in front of him and a meteor ripped through, colliding with and obliterating the Demon in one strike. It continued and burst through the ceiling, causing a support beam to fall down and annihilate the bookcase Hope was standing on.

“Really?” came the exasperated cry. Balder merely shrugged and turned his attention to their two final foes.

It was lucky that he did. One had drifted towards his position and now seemed intent on avenging its fallen comrade. Halting the channelling of the meteor spell and leaving the stray rock to fly into the depths of the ocean, he summoned the glaive and hurled it at the Demon.

The weapons struck together in a horrible clashing of metal. To his benefit, it knocked the Demon off balance with a surprised screech. Balder knew he had an opportunity to strike and he took it. Flaring his palms out to use a wind to give him a boost, he jumped up and swung his foot in a roundhouse kick. It collided with the mask and knocked it clean off. The pulsing orb at the centre was revealed and a lightning bolt from the heavens annihilated the rest of it. The shears flew off into the waiting hands of Hope.

“Time for a taste of your own medicine!” The Angel ripped apart the shears and began slashing wildly at the remaining Demon. For the first time in this skirmish, it was on the back foot, forced to defend. The Sin Scissor shrieked against the onslaught, then knocked Hope back with a wild swipe downwards. It followed up with a spinning slash, twirling its entire body into the motion.

Hope parried it effortlessly.

That was all it took to throw the demon completely off balance. The mask slipped and revealed the flesh beneath. Hope took advantage instantly and stabbed one half of the shears into the exposed weakness, then the other to finish it off. Black smoke billowed from it, dissipating its form from existence in seconds.

Balder resummoned his glaive back to his hand and held it loosely by his side. “Thank you for the aid, Lagunan.”

Hope seemed to be breathing more heavily than he would have expected. They jumped down and leaned against the ruined bookcase, their hands gripping the shelving for support. “We… it’s nothing.”

There was still tension in the air. Balder did not fault them for it and decided to address the obvious; “I do not trust you with anything further, Hope. We may be allies for the moment, but you have decided to join forces with that accursed Witch. I cannot stand that.”

“Why are you hunting us, Balder? We are all distanced from any quarrel you could have had five hundred years ago; Jeanne and Bayonetta were mere children when the Clan Wars occurred!” they fired back, dropping into a defensive stance. “They are innocent in all of this!”

“Jeanne was the daughter of the one who consigned my wife to death,” he snarled. “She is hardly innocent.”

The tension was beginning to rise. Before either of them could act upon it, a voice cut through everything:

“You held yourself against her estimations. Impressive.”

Both Balder and Hope turned towards the darkness. He could make out the shadowy figure once again, and a small gasp from the Angel reassured him that they could see them too.

“Her estimations?” Hope was the first to respond.

“I do not particularly care who she is, shadow,” Balder cut across both of them before the figure had a chance to answer. He pointed his glaive at them and growled “but you have been watching me for the last half an hour, if not more. Show yourself, or I will make you.”

“Balder, Balder…” the figure shook their head. Footsteps echoed throughout the library and they finally stepped into the light. “What would be the fun in that? I am here to test you, not to play at socialising. But I suppose that, again, you have surpassed her expectations, much to her dismay; I must play a part that was regarded as unnecessary.”

The figure was clad in black formalwear from head to toe. Balder did not recognise the fabric nor the style, but it vaguely resembled the clothing he himself had had to wear to official Sage gatherings. His hands were ungloved, showing off sickly pale skin. His head was the same hue, and was completely hairless; an ugly red scar covered the left side of his face as the only real distinguishable feature. His eyes were clouded by darkness, but glowed a piercing red and green all the same.

Heterochromatia. That was a rarity.

“You!?” Hope exclaimed in recognition. “You can’t be here; you died!”

“Don’t you remember how Devils and Angels work, my dear Laguna? You kill us here, in this mortal realm, we just go back to our home and reform.” The man’s lips curled, as if in distaste. “Everyone believes I perished on that fateful night nearly twenty years ago. But here I stand before you all, as corporeal and as real as can be.”

Balder narrowed his eyes and peered at the man, scrutinizing him. He had assumed him a mortal, but now…

The stench of Demon was impossible to miss. It was overwhelming and sunk into every pore, suffocating him with its intensity. Balder withdrew his senses and coughed reflexively.

“The mistress found and gave me new purpose, returning my form to me well ahead of schedule. And now she has found… people of interest. I am here to determine whether or not you are worthy of her attention.”

“Who is your mistress?” Balder asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” came the immediate reply. The curl of his lips became humoured with a cruel upturn. “And as for my assessment, you both exhibit no reason for her to become enamoured with you. You may be powerful, perhaps even strong enough to pose a threat to her, but you are both lambs, being shepherded right into the slaughter. You both have little idea of what you are truly dealing with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Enough riddles, Demon!” Balder growled. Both advanced upon the figure, but he did not back down. If anything, he spread his arms out slightly as if to welcome them. “Speak the truth; who are you, and why are you here!?”

“Must I repeat myself?” The man smirked, raising his arms. The burn seemed to move by itself, crawling and rippling all over his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Hope was the first to lunge. The man merely faded away and disappeared from sight, leaving the Joy to tackle nothing but air. Balder instantly turned around, covering their rear and tried to find a glimpse of the man.

I have other matters to attend to. We will never have cause to meet again.

And with those words of finality, the presence and stench of Inferno receded, leaving the pair standing in a ruined library.

Balder relaxed himself and faced the Joy. “Just who was that?”

“That was-”

Something collided with the back of his head and Balder immediately fell into the realm of Morpheus.

…

The metallic clang echoed throughout the library, followed by the painful smack of flesh on stone. Hope stood staring at Balder’s crumpled body, their thoughts racing. Their gaze rose to settle on the mortal and their mouth fell agape.

“Luka!” they exclaimed after reapplying the translation spell. “Why did you-”

“Hey, if you hadn’t noticed, that’s fucking Balder!” Luka clutched the silver bollard tightly with both hands, his entire body trembling with adrenaline. “He ruined all of our fucking lives-”

“Luka, calm down.” The Joy closed the distance between the pair and gently grabbed the bollard. “Something is wrong-”

“Something is wrong? You know what’s wrong? Me and you not killing this asshole right now!” He wrenched the weapon back and set his sights on the unconscious man. “He killed my father, and he was only one of millions that he’s murdered! He’s ruined countless lives! How could anything be possibly wrong!?”

Hope reflected on Luka’s rage with pursed lips. They did not blame him for his anger; it was fully justified and, given any other circumstance, they would have moved aside for him to claim his rightful vengeance.

But that was the key word; rightful.

They had never told Cereza or Damien that they knew Balder from before. As far as they knew, Balder had always been a power-hungry maniac who had ruined their lives. But from that brief, five-minute interaction before all of the Onythylls lost their secluded, peaceful life to imprisonment, Hope came to know one thing at the very least: Balder did care for his family, or at least he had at one point.

This was that Balder.

There had been no lie in their words to the Sage earlier; once they learned of the farce of a trial that had occurred in both the Crescent and Sunrise Valleys, both themself and their sisters had attempted to find him. But whatever the Lumen had done to their former champion, they could not find him. Even the power of the Eye of the World was suppressed and only reappeared along with Balder four years later.

That Balder had instantly turned to Paradiso and started corrupting everything and everyone within earshot, a far cry from the man they had observed. Something had changed.

“Luka, we know that you are angry and frustrated and we understand that,” they started, reaching out to the bollard again. “But you need to calm down and listen to us for just a minute. That’s all we ask for.”

“I… God! I fucking hate him! Why are you defending him?”

“Because he changed. We knew him, when he lived with his family. He loved them-” they tried.

Luka cut her off with a scoff. “Yeah, right! He admitted to Bayonetta that he literally only used her mother to create a child of light and dark. If that’s love, then the asshole deserves everything he gets!”

“Luka, please! Listen to us! Just… put down the bollard and we will try to explain,” they begged. A tense moment passed, and they were afraid that they would need to take action. Fortunately, Luka swallowed and hurled the bollard down to collide hard against the stone with a loud ‘clunk’.

“Then talk. You know if Bayonetta or Damien were here, they would have killed him by now!”

Hope swallowed, then pressed on with a nod. “We met with Balder and warned him that the Lumen and Umbra knew about him, his relationship and his child. We could not interfere, but after the trials that sealed all three of their fates, we tried to find him. Four years later, he resurfaced and began to corrupt Paradiso.”

Luka lowered his head, processing the information. “So?”

That was a response designed to infuriate them. Hope did not rise to the bait: “What happened in those four years?”

The man did not answer, as he could not have. He instead swallowed and waited for them to continue.

They gestured to the body on the ground. “This man obviously has not had any thoughts about creating another child of light and dark. He seemed confused when we accused him-”

“I literally repeated to him what his… older self told us and he got pissed.” Luka interrupted, turning to look at the fallen Sage. “Then he told me his daughter is dead.”

It all clicked. “Oh no…”

“Oh no? ‘Oh no’ what?”

The only reason Balder would assume his daughter was dead was because someone told him so. The only reason Balder would be targeting them was because that same someone had told him that Bayonetta was responsible. Hope was willing to bet this was the same person who had told the Lumen that a child of light and dark existed. The one person who had been playing chess for seemingly over five hundred years with everyone’s lives and had always been several moves ahead.

The Prophet, or Loptr as it was increasingly looking like, had gotten to Balder.

They turned to Luka and pointed to the door. “We need to get to Cereza and warn her. Is that connection with Damien still there?”

“It should be- what the fuck? It’s gone!” He instantly pointed an accusing finger at the Sage. “It’s him! He did it! For fuck’s sake, I knew he-”

“Balder would not know what to look for,” they briefly glanced around, finding nothing but more ruins in the library. “There’s more to this puzzle than meets the eye.”

“Fine. But the second he proves himself as nothing more than a A-tier asshole, I’m going to make sure Bayonetta or Damien skewer him,” Luka promised, glancing at them with fire in his eyes. “And I’ll be the first to say ‘I told you so’ in regards to sparing him right now.”

“You would be justified,” Hope agreed, crouching down to flip Balder onto his back. Blood poured from the wound on the back his head, but they placed their hand on his cheeks. The flesh and skin knitted itself together with their healing spell, and they let his breathing even out before leaving him be. “But we hope it doesn’t come to that.”

…

The dimly lit classroom felt Umbran.

Balder knew he was being facetious. He had only been in Vigrid, capital of the Witches, for a scant couple of hours, but the alien atmosphere and sensations that constantly washed over him had to be those of the Umbra. They were nothing like the familiarity of the roaring cathedrals or humbleness of the churches; arrogance and excess seeped into these walls, decadent as they were vain. He stared at the closest wall with a scrutinizing gaze, trying to perceive anything.

You are in the closest thing to the realm of Demons, Balder, he reminded himself. Logically speaking, it would feel like them.

A soft tutting drew his attention across to their tutor and a strict voice followed: “Are the walls so interesting, boy?”

Balder had a brief moment where he thought he would lie, but it went against everything that had been driven into him since birth. “Yes, Madame Le Fay. They are much different to what I am used to at home.”

The tall, blonde witch folded her arms beneath her feathery cape, tilting her head slightly. Her hair, stylised into four hornlike-trails, swayed with the movement, settling back down gracefully after a few seconds. The gap of silence was filled with snickers and chuckles from the other trainees and acolytes, causing a blush to spread across his cheeks. Still, he did not look down to hide his weakness, and continued to meet her gaze.

“Different how?” Her voice had become softer.

“I… I can’t explain it. But I can feel them,” he muttered, each word sounding more ridiculous than the last. “Just how I can feel you and your power.”

The Witch raised an eyebrow at that. “Interesting. To those who laughed, did you not feel the same?”

Muttered ‘nos’ and awkward shuffling answered her. Madame Le Fay shifted on the arch of her heels and settled her gaze on Norik. “You there. Tell me, what do you sense in these walls?”

“Warding enchantments,” his friend answered after a second. “After all, we are meant to be learning combat here. Balder is a little weird at times, so it makes sense to me that he’s-”

“Incorrect. You there,” she pointed to a Witch. Balder was morbidly curious about his friend’s expression, but kept his attention on the tutor. “What do you feel?”

A moment passed and a sigh of despair followed. “I apologise Madame, but I feel nothing.”

“Good. You were not supposed to.” Le Fay unfolded her arms and walked over to the nearby wall, placing one gloved hand on it. “Normally, this entire building is warded against Paradiso; to be specific, the entire Sunset Valley is. I made sure to remove these for this session.”

Her gaze found Balder’s, and the young man felt her grey eyes penetrate straight through him. There was no magic involved, but he could sense that she was reading everything about him in one, fell swoop. “Normally, we start by obtaining you all a contract before even thinking about moving to basic combat training. But if you can sense these walls, maybe you need to obtain a contract before your contract obtains you.”

He broke the impromptu staring contest and stared down with shame.

“Why so glum? Onythyll, there is not a reason to feel that way. You merely have more innate abilities than most, which is nothing to be ashamed of.” A light, teasing smile graced her lips. “And besides, I have no idea how Lagunan contracts work. I will not assume that you are any immediate danger, but it would be very helpful for me to be aware of any potential incursions that may occur inadvertently.”

Oh.

“But that brings me back to my initial point for being here; basic combat and magic. As I just stated, normally the process can be expedited with successful formation of a contract. However, both myself and Father Mathias believe that appropriate instruction for you all should begin with the basics of the basics. Elemental magic-” she clicked her fingers and an orb of water formed above them, shimmering and refracting in the light, “-is something that we all should know. It is the core root of the tree of magic; everything you learn, whether it be light or dark for Sage or Witch respectively, stems from it. Now, who can tell me the five elements?”

“Earth, fire, wind and water!” a Witch cried out immediately.

“Three of those four are correct, Miss De’Arc,” Madame Le Fay turned to the red-clad acolyte. “But I asked for five.”

“Isn’t it lightning instead of earth?” a trainee asked from his left. 

“Correct. But that is only four of the five; what is the other one?” Madame Le Fay waited half a minute for any response. None came. “Soul. Each of the five elements cannot be broken down further; any attempt would just reduce the amount.”

“Pah! Isn’t there documented evidence that we can break down water?” Norik questioned with a confident smirk.

“The physical elements differ massively to the elements of magics. Water is used for the basis to heal,” one hand raised and began to glow green, “and combined with fire it can be used to destroy.”

The glow faded and a sharpened ice crystal formed above her palm. She thrust it out and the missile flew right beside Norik’s head. His friend shrieked and ducked his head on reflex, much to the amusement of the Umbran acolytes. “I wish not to make an example of you, boy, but your tone is very disrespectful.”

Norik would never attempt to make amends; Balder knew he had to say something. “My apologies for Norik’s behaviour, Mada-”

“Do not apologise, Onythyll. His words and actions are his to bear.” She smiled, retracting her hand and clasping them both in front of her. Her voice changed tone as she turned her attention to one of the Umbra; “Florecer!”

One of the Witches moved forward in response. Balder recognised her friend, who was dressed in red, as De’Arc from before. His gaze followed her movements and his throat constricted with a reflexive swallow. Each step was lighter than snow and more graceful than a cat, accentuated by her long legs. Her clothing hugged her body, flaring out only at her sleeves and ankles. There was a sight sway-

And that was when he forced himself to look well away from her. She was a Witch-to-be, and he was a Sage-to-be; he would not let himself be distracted by such… carnal desires.

“Yes, Madame?” Her voice was sweeter than-

Balder nearly slapped himself.

“You were the highest ranked in the initial trials. Onythyll was recommended by Matthias as someone to keep an eye on. I would like you two to work together.”

Florecer turned around, her gaze finding his. Grey eyes, teasing and full of mirth, were the only visible feature on her head. Her mouth and lower face were covered with a tightly-woven cloth that wrapped around like a mask. Her hair was hidden behind a tall hat, woven with the same black cloth as her suit. Butterfly glasses framed those bright eyes, made with black steel, speckled with red and silver that glinted in the flickering candlelight.

“Me and you?” Her voice was inflected with humour. Her eyes didn’t leave him, but she turned towards their tutor. “Are you sure, Madame? He looks like a scholar, not a warrior.”

“Step forward, Onythyll.” Le Fay ignored her and began to shepherd the rest of the students towards the walls. They obliged and left the three standing in the centre of the room; Florecer was bemused, Le Fay was ambivalent.

Balder was terrified. He had not received formal combat training in his brief time at the Lumen before being transferred here. All he could do at this moment was summon small wards to defend himself. This coming sparring session would be nothing more than slaughter.

“Hmph. You want me to fight this runt?” Florecer smirked, placing her hands on her hips. “You know this is just a waste of both of our times. What would we even learn from this?”

Was it truly arrogance if she was right? Balder asked himself.

“What you can learn, Rosa, is humility. You may be gifted, but you have had no formal training, just like him,” their tutor answered. “If you are so powerful, then this should be a… what do they say, now? Walk in the park?”

“I question why you would pit a scholar against a warrior-”

“May I speak plainly, Madame?” he interrupted.

“You may,” came the reply.

Balder hesitated, then bowed his head. “If you are to teach us combat, why trial by fire? Would it not make sense to begin with the basics?”

A soft chuckle was her answer. Madame Le Fay folded her arms and took a few steps backwards. “I cannot teach without a baseline, Balder. Knowing is half of the battle.”

She clapped her hands and two sticks appeared in front of both himself and Florecer. Balder snatched the training weapon instinctively and held it with both hands. Then he stood there awkwardly, terrified of what the Witch opposite him could do.

Rosa did not copy his actions; she merely snorted and slowly pulled the weapon from the telekinetic field holding it aloft. Placing one hand on her hip, she lowered the stick and held it in a fencer’s stance. Confident. Arrogant.

“Come on; let’s dance, boy.”

She rushed forward, thrusting at him. Balder yelped and parried wildly, throwing the girl off-balance and causing her to fall. The result surprised him, and then he understood why.

Rosa was arrogant. Not skilled, only arrogant. She was all show.

She looked up, recovering and getting back to her feet. Gone was the humour from her eyes; now she was furious. That fury coiled through her body and then expelled with a cat-like hiss. Balder took a step backwards, now completely unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to make the Witch angrier and risk becoming injured in a simple training exercise, but he knew that logically now was the best time to strike and end this before it escalated further. Looking over to Madame Le Fay, he tried to read her expression for any help or aid.

She only watched intently. There would be no answers from her.

A howl brought his attention back to Rosa. She was swinging wildly, uncoordinated and extremely ungraceful. The trainee Sage attempted to block some of the strikes, but then thought better of it and simply began to flee. He could hear the laughter from the crowd around him and the embarrassment did burn, but what else was he supposed to do?

Magic.

Balder formed an orb of light and tossed it behind him blindly. A sound that he thought was not be possible burst from behind; the sound of Witch Time.

Evidently, he was not the only one with abilities.

Rosa appeared in front of him and drove her stick straight into his stomach. All air was driven from his body and he fell forward, onto the trainee. She shoved him off and he felt his body slam against the ground awkwardly. Another strike hit his stomach, drawing a pained cry from his throat. A third strike hit his nose and blood spurted onto the stone in front of him.

“ENOUGH!”

The roar halted all movement and the only sounds were Balder’s whimpers and Rosa’s exerted breath. He began to curl into a ball, reaching up to try and stymie the blood flow. A pair of heels clacked across the room and then a meaty smack rang out.

“What in the blazes are you doing!?”

“He embarrassed me!” came the outraged cry.

“You are embarrassing the Umbran clan and yourself!” Madame Le Fay replied. “Get out of my way. Now.”

A soothing hand was placed onto his shoulder and warmth spread throughout him. Balder’s nose reknitted itself back together and his tenderised flesh stopped throbbing.

“Stand up.” Le Fays’ voice was not attempting to be kind or gentle. The Witch was furious, but Balder understood it was not directed at him. He followed her instructions and scrambled up, standing with his head bowed.

“Your arrogance, Florecer, has caused this. We are meant to be learning; what did you learn?” she snapped, keeping her gaze firmly on Rosa. The Witch was rubbing at a pink bruise on her cheek, her eyes burning with indignation. “Nothing! You have some powerful, innate abilities that most Witches don’t even learn yet until they are well into their third century; in what way is using them to… assault a defenceless boy appropriate?”

He glanced across to see Rosa bristling with anger. For a brief second his thoughts turned to pity and he addressed their tutor for her; “In a real fight you take whatever openings you can get. Do not blame her, Madame; she was only doing what she deemed necessary.”

Le Fay blinked, taken aback. Her mouth opened, then closed into a thin line. “Onythyll, she took advantage of the fact you are a novice in every aspect. My intent was to pit you both against each other so I could gauge what you knew; cruelty is not that.”

“Then let us battle again,” Florecer said, stepping forward. “If you want a fair test, then we won’t use magic.”

She turned to him, her eye studying him with a critical gaze. It closed with a wink. “And I won’t lose.”

A long sigh filled the gap. “I don’t trust this, Florecer. But I don’t believe I can convince you otherwise. Are you fine with sparring again, Onythyll?”

Balder swallowed, unsure of whether or not he should accept. “I-”

“Or would you be branded a coward before the Umbra?” Rosa faced him, smirking arrogantly. “Go on; kneel before Mummy and beg for mercy.”

He marched over to his fallen stick and grabbed it, manoeuvring it until it was held low in a two-handed grip. Balder set his mouth in a determined line and directed its tip at her.

“So you want me to make you beg?” Rosa laughed, twirling her own weapon in her fingers. “This will be fun!”

A tense moment passed as their tutor walked back to the group. “Begin.”

Rosa lunged forward and Balder parried with a swipe of his weapon. The Witch spun with the momentum this time, utilising it to perform a swipe of her own. He brought his stick down and they clashed with a cracking of wood and splinters. The pair stayed locked together, each trying to eke out an advantage.

The Witch was the first to break away, twisting and bouncing back to create space. Balder did not give chase and merely lowered his weapon back into what he thought was a defensive stance. She landed in a slight crouch, only to return to her arrogant, one-handed fencer stance. Her head tilted slightly and her lips pursed.

With great speed she raised her stick and brought it down, attempting to break the weapon over his head. Balder stepped to the side and blocked the follow-up flick with a rigid swipe.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The sticks clashed three more times before they became interlocked once more; each time, Rosa was the aggressor. Balder continued to stay on the defensive, trying to think. It was hard to learn combat. Each time he tried to dedicate his focus towards getting an advantage, it was taken away by needing to block the strikes that were aimed for his head.

He supposed the training they would receive would give them some sort of combat instincts that made this whole ‘block and attack’ second-nature for them. But at the same time, Balder felt that this was almost impossible to learn. There was just so much going on!

CRACK!

Their sword-sticks connected together once more, this time with Rosa bearing down on him with all her weight. Balder buckled slightly, but held firm. She was above him, gritting her teeth and exerting heavily.

She was tiring! That was the key!

A glance down at her legs showed that she was perched on her heels awkwardly. A good kick to her ankles would definitely cause them to buckle and the body would go tumbling after. Balder did not want to potentially break her ankles, magical healing or not, so he opted to sneak one of his boot-cladded feet around her footwear and pull backwards.

It worked spectacularly. Rosa tumbled to the ground, her weapon falling from her grip and her arms flailing wildly. Balder retreated and let her body hit the floor, before tapping his stick on her backside to signify he had won.

“Enough.”

Balder relaxed and held his weapon down, letting out a well-deserved exhale. His limbs ached, his fingers tingled from the repeated jolts they had experienced, but he felt pride. He had won, with no training, against someone with a small amount of training.

Logic said that meant they were of the same skill, but he allowed the feeling.

A hush had fallen upon the audience. There had been no noises from them in the brief skirmish, but now he could tell it wasn’t a respective or awed silence. It was unsettling.

“I lost!?”

Rosa was incensed. She scrambled over to her fallen weapon and grabbed it, only to hurl it at the ground. Balder dropped his own and moved over, holding one hand out.

“Rosa.” The name slipped from his tongue like water in a stream. Natural. Fitting.

Her head whipped around; eyes ablaze with fury. She took one look at his outstretched hand and slapped it away with all of her might.

…

The first sensation Balder became aware of once he rose from the grogginess of remembrance was a throbbing sensation in the back of his skull. He didn’t open his eyes just yet. Instead, his thoughts drifted to the memory that had just played out; the first meeting between himself and Rosa.

She had been an arrogant woman. Rosa had told him later that her ego had been fed by thousands of mouths of adulation, each one telling her that she was going to be the best; she was going to be the strongest Umbra Witch ever. While they weren’t wrong in their assumptions, it was still a poison that shaped her perception. His tactical defeat of her in their second spar had turned the arrogance into hatred; Madame Le Fay had paired the two together and she had shown him nothing but scorn.

It had taken decades for them to become amicable. He remembered how she had taken a full minute to confess she did not hate him and then the five, agonising minutes more that she thought of him as a friend. That drew a faint smile to his lips.

His eyes opened to a dark ceiling and ruined bookcases.

Sitting up, Balder rubbed the back of his head with one hand and groaned. A glint of silver in the candlelight drew his gaze to  a curiously shaped object on the ground. He reached out and lifted it up, raising an eyebrow at its weight. Whatever it was, it was probably what caused him to fall unconscious.

He tossed it away and quickly gathered information around his surroundings. There was no sign of Hope and he could not sense Luka in any of the rooms of the library. They must have left long ago; his gaze found the candles and he noticed they had not melted further than he had expected.

That still did not allay his fears that he had been unconscious for hours and hours upon end. Candle technology may have been improved massively in the last five hundred years, for all Balder knew.

Loptr? He cautiously asked into the void of silence.

The reply was instantaneous; ‘Where have you been?’

How long have I been silent for?

Loptr sighed. ‘A little over five minutes. Why haven’t you delivered Bayonetta and Loki to me yet?’

Balder was about to answer truthfully until he remembered Hope’s words. He knew it was idiotic of him to even entertain the lies the Angel had spoken and disregard the benefactor that brought him here, but he remembered one, single truth that all Angels followed.

They could not lie. Misrepresent, partialize, but not an outright falsification. The words Hope spoke were spoken from the heart, as if they were completely true to them.

I was ambushed and left for dead. I only just returned to consciousness a few seconds ago.

‘Hmph. I thought you were much stronger than that. If you are looking to get back on track, the one you are seeking vengeance on is approaching the Cathedral of Cascades. I’ll slow them down so you have a chance to… catch up.’

The way Loptr phrased that was… disconcerting. Balder had not told him anything about his location, nor that he had lost track of Bayonetta and her companions, yet he had correctly guessed the Sage had lost them.

Guessed was not an appropriate word. Loptr knew.

‘It would be best if you started moving, Balder.’ Loptr continued, the statement holding finality. ‘I cannot delay them forever.’

The presence of the being receded from his mind and Balder was left unsettled and alone. Standing up, he cast his senses out. The presence of Demons and a Witch met him, along with the lingering aura of Divinity. The Angels he could not place, but the Demon and the Witch were definitely known to him; Scolopendra and Bayonetta.

It seemed that a battle was taking place.

…

It didn’t take long to find them. Scolopendra had raised a barrier that glowed an alien red against the whites and blues of Noatun, and Balder simply traversed the rooftops until he found a perch to observe the proceedings in front of him. It was rather calming, in a sense, to watch-

What was he actually looking at? Bayonetta looked like a mixture between a Centauri of myth and Diomedes of Inferno. That was no power he had ever seen before. She was challenging a group of five beings that he recognised as Laguna, but did not at the same time. They both seemed… artificial. Fake. False.

The brother was the one facing off against the Demon. Balder ignored him for now; he seemed to be struggling and was not particularly interesting.

He could attribute the false Demonic scent from a logical thought that Bayonetta was imbuing herself with their power for some form of boost. It was actually something Rosa had once mentioned that was theorised before she left the Umbra; perhaps Bayonetta had uncovered something that allowed her to bring theory to practicality.

Before his thoughts could tangent elsewhere, Scolopendra exploded.

Balder’s gaze left Bayonetta instantly to look at what he could only describe as a pure Demon. Black tendrils flowed from its head to float around five outstretched wings; one was covered in feathers, whereas the other four were leathery and bat-like in appearance. His eyes were now bulbous orbs of horrible yellow, and his body was replaced with inky-black darkness.

Bayonetta seemed to be apprehensive and almost fearful of what her brother had become. Balder leaned forward, staying hidden atop the roofs, feeling anticipation build.

A primal roar erupted from the Demon’s throat and they charged forward, aiming themself at their sister. The sight filled him with both dread and hope; Balder believed he understood enough about the man to know he wouldn’t attack his sister while sound of mind, but the idea of an ally in the making was very tempting.

The pair battled in a brief, fast-paced skirmish to begin with. After forcing them back with a headbutt, Bayonetta spread out a pair of her arms – Balder had now just noticed she had two pairs of arms and four pairs of legs – and spoke in Enochian; her voice was strained with emotion and the words were whispered, but Balder heard them all the same.

“I do not wish to hurt you, brother. Please, it is up to you to make this madness stop!”

Damien did not back down; if anything, he began to circle around her like a wolf before its prey. The words, meant to calm, had done nothing but agitate him further. Balder questioned the purpose, or whether or not the Witch was particularly smart, but then he remembered one of the first lessons that he had been taught for combat was to fight calmly.

The words were very deliberate.

The pair jumped back at each other, both of their weapons raised and poised to strike. Before they could meet, something green burst out from the Demon’s chest and erupted into an explosion of the same colour. Balder shielded his eyes with one arm, then lowered it to a sight he never expected to see again.

Madama Khepri.

…

The house was a slow, arduous build. Balder had no idea how to construct anything, let alone a habitable home, but Rosa had known. Somehow. He didn’t question it at first, but as the days went by she somehow, someway, knew the answer to every possible problem they ran into.

He brought it up on the night they had finished, while they were sat at the small table in the ‘dining’ room. Rosa sat across from him, hair down and mask off, her lips curled into a soft, contented smile, and Balder questioned himself before he said anything.

“Rosa?”

Her radiance turned to him, dazzling and disarming. “Yes?”

“How did you know?” he asked, noticing that he was going straight to bluntness once again.

“Of what? You will need to be a little more specific.”

“To build. To construct. We aren’t taught skills like this,” he gestured to the house around them.

Her eyes turned mischievous. “What if I said we were? And you didn’t pay attention?”

“That would be impossible.” He smiled. It wasn’t that long ago that those kinds of innocuous comments would upset and insult him, but Balder had learned that it was a form of affection from some people. “I would remember it.”

“Correct. But I have had some… extra-curriculars with my patron recently. I asked her the viability of building this ourselves and not only did she insist that it was possible, she gave me the tools to do so.” Rosa leaned backwards on her chair slightly, stretching out her legs and toes. “And here we have the results of that.”

“Is your patron the Demon of construction?” he asked the obvious question.

“Oh, Gods no. She would be insulted if you implied that was the case.” Rosa stopped stretching and leaned forward. “Do you want to meet her? She’s been dying to meet you.”

“Dying to meet me? I am just-”

A finger stopped his lips from moving. “You are the wielder of the Right Eye and are one of the most impressive Sages of all time. Of course she would be interested.”

Balder shook his head. “I’m fairly certain the second reason is just your opinion.”

Rich laughter filled the silences between the crackles of the fire. “You do have me there. But she is interested.”

“Then summon her, if you so desire.”

Rosa pushed her chair back and nimbly stepped towards the centre of the room. She ran her fingers through her hair, resettling it back in waves down her back. Before she began to summon, she turned to him with a grin. “You’ll like the view, darling.”

Before he could even start piecing together what she meant by that, she twirled on one foot and struck a pose, her clothes flying off and forming into a weave that pierced into a portal to Inferno. Balder caught a glimpse of one bare breast and buttock before covering his eyes and keeping her modesty sacred.

(A voice inside of him reflected that if she did not want him to look, she would have requested it.)

“PDEE BARMA!”

Another portal erupted behind him, and then closed after a few seconds. The stench of Inferno lingered, but then dissipated into a homely, welcoming scent. Balder frowned; no Demon he knew wanted to be welcoming. Every skirmish he had encountered and his very brief meetings with the Demon Sparda always carried the same sensation of despair, disgust and unwantedness.

A hand tapped on his shoulder with a giggle. “You know I want you to look, Balder. But you can open your eyes now.”

And he opened them to not just his wife, but a green-skinned woman with kind eyes as well.

“Rise, my champion,” she murmured. “The Master of the Heavens.”

…

He didn’t know how to feel.

Madama Khepri had acted like a mother to both of them, and even kept watch over Cereza when she was too young to be left alone. There wasn’t a moment where she wasn’t doting upon them, and despite the paranoia that a Demon was doing all of this, both he and Rosa trusted her completely.

But here she was, consorting with the person who murdered both of them.

Balder tried to rationalize it. Why would she? Was this event something she was obligated to take part in? Clairvoyancy was-

She foresaw their deaths.

She had to. Khepri could see the future.

She had foreseen their deaths and done nothing to stop it.

Rage threatened to overwhelm him and Balder struggled against its tide. He wanted to scream, to shout and expel the emotions, but he needed to stay rational. To stay calm. Why would she have done this? There had to be a reason.

Or maybe both Rosa and himself were played for fools. Khepri had simply extracted what she wanted, Rosa’s soul, and moved onto her next victim.

He took a glance back over the wall to see Loki, Bayonetta and Khepri talking, with the former holding an unconscious Damien. The Madama looked extremely uncomfortable, whereas Bayonetta was very agitated.

“That means you can tell me. I can deal with whatever it is! Please, Khepri; I beg of you. Tell me.”

Balder knew for certainty now. Khepri was a liar.

“Miss, why don’t you want to tell us? Will it affect us?” Loki asked, his voice both certain and completely unsure.

“Of course, it will. Every action has a consequence; you both should know this,” Khepri answered with a slightly exasperated tone. “I’m not holding onto this information because I want to.”

Liar.

Loki pondered that for a few seconds, then nodded. “Is there a future where he doesn’t go on a path towards this… non-existence?”

“Every future I’ve viewed leads to the same choice. And every time he chooses what will lead to his own annihilation.”

Liar.

“I don’t know the context.”

Liar.

“I don’t even know what the choice is!”

Liar.

“All I know is that he takes it.”

LIAR!

He could kill them all right now. They were too focused on themselves and not their surroundings. Sloppy. Unfit to be even referred to in the same breath as his wife. A spell cast directly at them would be unnoticed until they were nothing more than ash.

But then Bayonetta raised her head and he could make out faint lines trailing down from her eyes. Wet lines that glistened under the strange light from the lamp opposite him. “Can you please tell us when? Please. I need to know how much time I have left.”

It just didn’t make sense! Loki was the mastermind, not Khepri! Bayonetta was a heartless murderer, not some caring fool. What did- why did-

He missed Khepri’s reply, but not Bayonetta’s reaction. She was staring at the Demon in complete disbelief with dread building in her eyes. Her mouth quivered, like it was trying to say something, but completely unable to form any words. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and walked away.

“Bayonetta?” Loki called after her and attempted to follow, but one hand from Khepri stopped him. Balder eyes did not and he watched the Witch wander over to a bench and sit down, her head falling into her hands in a defeated pose.

“Let her be. She needs to digest this.”

“We’re on a time limit, remember? Her friend is dying in Inferno and all we are doing is nothing-”

Khepri’s sharp voice cracked over him. “Must I remind you who asked for this information? I apologise if it was not what she wanted to hear at this moment, but she insisted.”

Loki folded his arms and gave her an irritated look. “You know, for someone who says they care you have very little tact in addressing others. Is there a reason you have to be so blunt?”

“Do not assume anything about me, Aesir. You have no idea what I will have to sacrifice for this.”

He had never heard Khepri so emotional or so angry. She stalked over to a separate bench and gently placed the man in her arms onto it. “Every single passing moment I’ve dreaded this day. I don’t know why he never told anyone, but I specifically told him about it when he asked. I suppose it either slipped his mind or he didn’t want to burden others.”

“But what about you?” Loki asked. “I’ve known you for about three minutes and already you’ve been hiding big secrets from some of your closest allies.”

“Friends,” she firmly said. “They are my friends. And I don’t tell them these ‘secrets’ all the time because some are best left for them to discover. Or –” she held one finger up “– it’s vital that they don’t know.”

“If you say so. What’s the plan?” Loki asked.

“You should either check on Bayonetta or try to use that remembrance powers of yours to do something about this cathedral,” she answered. “By the time either is done, Damien should have woken up.”

The boy turned and walked towards Bayonetta, not bothering to look back at the Demon. “You’re going to do something about him?”

“No. I have something I’d like to look at.”

The way she phrased that was odd. The Sage frowned and watched her intently, trying to decipher what she meant. Seven seconds passed, with no real answers – then she turned and looked directly at Balder.

Khepri’s lips parted into a smile.

Balder gasped and fell back, his hands finding grips on the roof beneath him. It was not possible. There was no way she had noticed him. There was-

“Hello, Balder.”

His glaive appeared in a flash and he tried to put some distance between himself and the Demon. She was leaning against some sort of ventilation shaft that hummed constantly. Her red eyes seemed to be glinting with nostalgia and sadness.

“How did you find me?” he asked, keeping a defensive stance.

“Put that thing down. I’m here to talk, not fight.” Khepri stood up and walked towards him, her hands held out in a peaceful gesture. Balder retreated to maintain that distance and her expression became hurt. “Balder, I knew you-”

“I thought I knew you. I thought you were a friend, not a foe, and here you are fraternizing with that monster!”

She blinked. “What?”

“Is she your latest pawn, one that you’ll use and abuse until she cannot?” he accused, watching her expression fall further and further. “Just like you did to my Rosa?”

“What in the nine circles are you talking about?”

“You knew Rosa was going to die! And you let it happen. You treated us like family, and you-”

The abrupt stillness in her figure made him pause. Her gaze had fallen to stare at the floor in an attempt to avoid his own. He knew what she was feeling.

Guilt.

“You knew.” The words were spoken with absolute certainty. A semblance of a tremble laced through his voice, something that he tried to supress.

“I did.”

His world shattered again. A sob erupted from his throat and he almost threw his glaive down in anger. Swallowing, trying to keep his centre from spilling off into the deep abyss of despair, Balder kept his ground. “You… All of what you did… All of that advice… Was it all just to feed the lambs to slaughter?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then why did you let it happen!? Why didn’t you warn us that our actions were going to lead to their deaths!?”

Khepri looked up, her eyes beginning to burn. A strange, golden tinge was beginning to run through them, reminding Balder of the fire he wielded. “Did you think I just let it happen? Do you even know how Rosa died?”

“Bayonetta murdered her, then Cereza. Must you be reminded?”

“That’s not- did you say Cereza is dead?” Khepri just stared at him, the fire dying down. “Do you even realise what you are saying?”

“I mean every word I say, foul demon,” he spat out. “The truth was given to me by the Prophet Loptr; his words are yet to be proven wrong. And you! You are a liar. Why should I even be entertaining you?”

“Because you are my friend-”

“You forfeited the right to address me like that when you ruined my life.”

“Balder, this is madness! Listen to yourself! I did not-”

“Silence!” Balder pointed his glaive directly at her, replacing his mask onto his face. His hood followed and he began to channel his power. “You do not belong here and I will banish you from this world forever!”

The Madama closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Then you have chosen madness. I do not wish to fight you, Balder, but you are seemingly indiscriminate from your future self.”

A long, curved sword – an odachi, to be precise – appeared in her hand with a flash of red fire. Khepri brought it to her side, held point down, and placed one hand on her hip. Baler recognised the stance and he knew it was meant to be infuriating.

That was Rosa’s stance.

“I hope my contracted doesn’t mind me borrowing this, but be warned, Balder; one touch from this weapon and your soul shall be taken,” she said, beginning to stalk towards him. “This is your last chance; do not challenge me.”

Balder rushed forward, splitting his glaive into two. He tossed the left at her head and swung the left low at her ankles. A clash of steel informed him she had merely deflected the first and then the jarring ‘clang!’ when she blocked the second. Summoning back the deflected blade, he began to attack with a flurry of strikes. Left, right. Left. Left. Right. Right. Right. Right.

Khepri grunted in annoyance, but managed to deflect every single swing with a flick of her wrist. The odachi then struck out, and Balder was forced to defend himself with a parry; as much as he didn’t trust the Demon, he did not want to find out if her words were true.

She followed up with two overhead slams that Balder avoided with a twirl. He rejoined the glaive and struck at Khepri’s midsection with a feint, only to slam his head into hers. She stumbled backwards and he took advantage with a swipe that caught her in the stomach. The blade bit deep and pushed the Madama back.

“Doalim Cordziz!” came the pained hiss. She had doubled over with her left hand pressed against her side, the odachi falling limply by her side. “No wonder why Rosa gave up fencing. Perhaps this will work a little better!”

The wound on her stomach closed and healed before Balder could blink. Khepri stood up tall, her wings flaring out to amplify her presence. The sword remained by her side, but now it was gripped loosely with an air of confidence. Magic began to swirl around her free hand, sparking with arcs of lightning or bursting with the reds and oranges of fire.

Before Balder could adjust to this new-found confidence, Khepri disappeared.

His senses screamed at him and he turned to block a swing from the Demon. She immediately disengaged with a swipe at his toes, of which he played into her hands by also retreating back from. Khepri twirled and swung her odachi in a cross-like pattern. Shockwaves roared through the air and Balder attempted to parry the first blow that arrived.

The glaive being ripped from his fingers and his body being flung across the rooftops informed him that was a very, very bad idea.

Another shockwave slammed into his side, and he caught a glimpse of Khepri teleporting again before he was tossed to his left. The presence of Loki, Bayonetta and Damien were beginning to fade and Balder understood her intent; get him away. A fifth shockwave drove him back again and he began to formulate a plan.

Step one: get close.

Recovering with a kick off a nearby wall, Balder flung his palm out and implored upwards to the heavens.

“LEVA-”

Something covered his mouth and he could sense the Demon directly behind him. “Shhh… We don’t want to wake those who need their rest.”

As frustrating as this position was, Balder allowed himself a smile of triumph; she had played straight into his hand. Step one complete. Step two: get rid of the sword.

The glaive reappeared in his hand with a flash and he swung it with an upwards slash at where he envisioned her head to be. A clang of steel informed him he was not successful, but he used his momentum to flip him up and atop her shoulders. His legs wrapped around her neck in a chokehold – a move he had borrowed from Rosa – and he reached down with his free hand to grab the odachi by the blade.

It burned.

A scream erupted from his throat as he pulled his hand back, only for the odachi to come swinging at him. Balder swung his glaive to meet it in a parry of pure desperation. She was not lying about the potency of her blade; a scratch could prove more than fatal.

The blade did work as a fine distraction. Something grabbed the front of his robes and ripped him from his position atop her shoulders. Then he was flying through the air and landing on the rooftop in a sprawl. Balder returned back to his feet as fast he possibly could, turning to find Khepri leaping at him, her odachi held high. Splitting the glaive and placing it in an X formation, he held it up to meet her.

CLANG!

The force behind her swing jolted his entire being, but Balder did not falter. They stayed interlocked, their eyes meeting.

“I have to admit, this style of battle is very liberating,” Khepri commented casually. “No rigidity? No rules? No guidelines? Maybe the Umbra should have never been taught battle properly.”

“What?” He did not let down his guard. Khepri was very obviously trying to get him to relax and then seize the opportunity; Balder would not let that happen.

“My contracted just fights as his instincts let him. You should try it too, Balder.”

“Who is your contracted?” Balder growled, his eyes darting over to the odachi for a second to analyse it. They widened once he realised that he recognised it. “That abomination of a man?”

“He is no abomination! That slur has no place here, anywhere or especially from your mouth!”

The sudden shift was an opening. Balder let a sly smile crack his composure and he slowly, deliberately, dragged his gaze back to Khepri. “He isn’t? Then where is his humanity?”

Balder later reflected that he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. The barb was meant to infuriate, to anger, to draw her into a state of rage so deep that she would become predictable. For anyone who had an emotional connection with another, this was how they normally reacted.

Instead, she froze. Pure terror and shock spread across her like a crack in glass, instantaneous and sudden. Khepri’s grip slackened and the pressure she was exerting lessened. As much as Balder would have liked to question this, it was an opportunity and he would not let it go to waste.

Before he could capitalise, the shock disappeared. Her eyes turned yellow and a red aura started to emanate from her entire being, clouding and tinting his vision. His confidence faltered.

Her fury grew.

“You dare!? How could you possibly know!?”

A rush of wind blew him back and Balder braced himself against the rush. A small portal formed next to the Demon and she thrust her hand through it. A larger portal opened above him and he barely dodged the enlarged fist that rained down from it. He recognised it as something akin to a wicked weave; a technique only available to the strongest Umbra.

It seemed that those sparring sessions with Rosa was preparing him for this battle.

Another fist rained down and Balder flipped back to dodge it, then released a stream of pure time at the Demon. It had worked wonders against Hope; surely-

Khepri merely absorbed it, her eyes burning. “Did you really think you could weaponize time against the Mistress of Time? Not only are you insane, you are completely delusional!”

Fire enveloped the odachi and she rushed forward, roaring in Enochian. Balder watched her movements carefully, then parried her swing with one half of his glaive and thrust the other into her stomach.

Khepri’s choked cry was the only sound above the crackle of the flame. Then that disappeared too and silence remained.

“Khepri…” Balder whispered. “Why?”

“Why what?” she returned, the odachi falling from her grip and clattering against the rooftop.

“Why didn’t you warn us? Why do you play all of these games with all of these secrets? Are we nothing but-”

“Balder, even if I could save Rosa…”

The Madama pushed him away and Balder let himself retreat; this battle was over. Khepri was doubled over, her hands clutching at the blade embedded in her. Her eyes had returned to their natural red and that aura was gone.

“I have foreseen every possibility. I changed every combination of events, accounted for everything and Rosa always dies. And it is always by his hand.”

“Loki’s?” he snarled.

She shook her head. “The knowledge would destroy you.”

That made no sense. Balder wracked his brain for a meaning behind those words; she had never outright said it wasn’t Loki, but at the same time he could tell that those words did not refer to him. Then who was she referring to? What knowledge could possibly destroy him?

Khepri then straightened herself and ripped the blade from her stomach like a stick from a tree. Balder instantly readied himself to continue, but she tossed it back to him and folded her arms.

“As much as I like entertaining one of my favourite people, your weapon is naught but a pointy metal stick. If you wish to continue this absurd and pointless quest, you will need upgrades,” she cooly said, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “My, I’ve forgotten how fun this is.”

“What do you mean, upgrades?” he blurted out. His confidence had long faded; it was beginning to appear that he had never had any control over this situation.

“Use your imagination. But for now, please take care and please…” she bowed her head to him. He had no idea if it was in respect or fear. “Please look at events objectively before you do something you will regret.”

And then she disappeared.

Balder turned back in the direction he had came from, then thought against it. He needed to talk to Loptr.

‘You needed to speak with me?’

Speak and he shall arrive. Balder did not know what upgrades Khepri could possibly be referring to, but he had an idea. The scene of Bayonetta lying beneath him with a cut up her leg played though his mind. If she was any competent Umbra, then she would have healed it long before now.

But what if it never healed?

He shared his plan with Loptr. For a brief moment he thought his request was impossible, but his benefactor answered with glee.

‘I thought you would never ask.’

My First Journal

Enemy Data

Hope

One of Uncle D’s closest friends, and a very helpful confidant in Paradiso. They are the closest being you could label as a ‘truly benign’ Angel, but honestly they are the awesome other Aunt/Uncle that I’ve never had. They are really awesome! And cool! And kinda creepy. Not having eyes makes it hard to know what they’re thinking, although those lips are very expressive.

Anyway, they fight like a mixture of Mummy and Aunty J. Which is a weird thing to say, because Mummy and Aunty J fight very similarly in the first place, but once you see them it makes sense? Maybe? Hope is very aggressive, like Mummy, but has a whole suite of weapons like Aunty. Grandfather, during his brief… thing with Loptr, fought them in an attempt to gain information about Mummy and Uncle D. He was successful, but it seems that his faith and resolve crumbled as he did. Did Hope… give him hope?

HA! I hope that Aunty J is reading this for my fantastic puns. I know she loves them!

First appearance: Bayonetta (2009)

Theme: Riders of the Light (EP solo version) – Bayonetta 3 (2022)

Dear Violetta,

Please stop making puns when you are meant to be writing reports on what you have experienced. And why have you put one of our friends in the ENEMIES section?

Jeanne De’Arc

Author’s Note: Hope is the Joy that steals Cereza briefly in Paradiso in the original game.

Sin Scissors

Scissor-wielding servants of Mundus. Dante and the rest of the Devil May Cry crew have both fought these in the Mallet Island and during the Red Grave City incidents respectively. According to Aunt Trish these ghosty bois are ‘supremely loyal’ to Mundus and only Mundus, which makes any appearance by them outside of the former Primordius’ whims very rare and OOC.

Grandfather fought a few with Hope during the Noatun incident. They seemingly were summoned and controlled by the MYSTERIOUS MAN who, at the time was very MYSTERIOUS. Ooh! Ahh! MYSTERIOUS!

Do do do do do dooooo (Dun-dun-dun da-da-da da-da-da da-da-da)

First appearance: Devil May Cry (2002)

Death Scythe

A Necron flying unit-

Shit. Wrong thing. Uhhh, a Death Scythe in Inferno is basically the upgrade to the Sin Scissors and act as their ‘field commanders’ to direct traffic in the heat of battle. They are almost zealot-like in their devotion to Mundus, so it’s surprising that they allowed themselves to be ordered by another person.

They fight with two scythes (wow I know right) and utilise gravity magic to keep their prey both off balance and an easy target. Their mask holds their weak point behind it, but Grandfather proved that you can simply just explode them instead of fighting with their rules.

First appearance: Devil May Cry (2002)

Rosa Florecer

Grandmama! She’s so awesome! And cool! And a badass motherfucker!

Sorry, got carried away for a second there. Turns out Mummy’s Mummy was a bit of an ass in her youth. She was told that she was going to be strong, if not the strongest Witch ever and it really got to her head. When the Umbra and the Lumen joined together to further both their teachings and learnings, she was paired with Grandfather as a way of giving her humility and him confidence. They sparred many times, with neither truly being the victor in the end.

Uncle D says that I got my hot-headedness from Mummy, and that she got her hot-headedness from her Mummy too. I wonder if it’s genetics or just an Umbran thing? Could be both; Uncle D gets very aggro, but he is both of the Umbran and is Mummy’s brother. Do I care? Nah. Mummy says that who I am is who I am, and I shouldn’t change for anyone.

Cept for the GF, ya know. But she deserves it!

In this battle, it was proven that brute force and intelligence could be keys to victory. Daddy says I should be more like Grandfather and exercise more caution when I fight. Mummy says otherwise and that bashing Mab Dachi on my enemies is just as effective as any thinking.

First appearance: Bayonetta (2009)

Theme: Battle for the Umbra Throne – Bayonetta (2009)

Madama Khepri, Protector of Time

Uncle D’s contracted Demon and one of the four Madama’s of the Court. She’s the most well-respected by the other three, despite not being the strongest physically or with magic; I guess that has a lot to do with her powers of clairvoyance and seeing-into-the-future. There have been a few times where see has threatened annihilation of someone, so I guess that’s how she pulled the other three Madama’s into submission…?

She fights like a mimic. I watched Uncle D fight, only to watch her repeat his actions one after the other. According to Mummy, she also utilises Grandmama’s stances and patterns as well. I know for a fact that the only two people she has contracted is Grandmama and Uncle D, so I guess it makes sense that she mimics them… but there’s something off about it all. Uncle fights his own, unique way that Aunty J can’t even replicate. I guess she’s been within him for so long that she can do anything he does, but…

Idk. Khepri hides a lot of things. If there’s something to hide, she already has it hidden away and we wouldn’t even know what to question.

First appearance – Bayonetta 2 (2012)

Theme: Madama Absolute (Jenova Absolute Dual Remix by JdotSweapA -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ob8SUSTpv8A&list=WL&index=29 )

Jukebox

No Updates… :(

Character Data

Norik

One of Grandfather’s oldest friends.

From everything I’ve heard about him, he seemed to take advantage of Grandfather for his own benefit. Or at least to try. He kinda threw Grandfather to the side once he was caught.

No one gives him any more thought, not even Grandfather. I guess some things are best left forgotten.

First appearance: Original Character

Mysterious Man

HE IS SO MYSTERIOUS!

Well, not really. Since parts of this journal were written after I found my family again, his identity is kinda fucked up but expected at the same time. It’s amazing how weird things can get if you apply internal logic across universes.

The only spoilers I’m willing to share right now is that he is a visitor on behalf of someone with an invested interest in the multiverse. Someone who is completely wrong and I do not want to talk about it anymore.

First appearance: ????

Theme: Disappeared: Opening refrain – KH2 (2005)

Morgana Le Fay

An ancient Umbra Witch of legend. She rose into power without a contract as one of the strongest ‘sorceress’s’ ever, and then obtained a Demon to further her powers. She became a teacher for the Umbra and taught both Grandmama and Grandfather everything they knew. Well, most things. The basics, the middle, some of the advanced…

I wish I got to know her. She was banished by the Umbra at some point for an unknown reason that not even Aunty J knows, but to official records state that she left the clan of her own volition. It’s strange that they lied like this, as they normally do report when people are banished, but I guess there was something wrong with Morgana. Perhaps she was the first Umbra to ever fancy a Sage and threaten their sanctimony of peace.

As far as I know, she has no recorded descendants and disappeared into the wilderness to die alone, stripped of both her power and her dignity.

First appearance – Bayonetta: Origins

Theme: Overture – Bayonetta: Origins (2023)

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Chain of Memory

…

“Before tomorrow’s sun reaches its apex, Damien will no longer exist.”

At a later time, when the world wasn’t going to shit and Bayonetta could reflect on her entire journey from start to finish, she would be able to count statements that had filled her with more dread and hopelessness on two fingers. One was yet to come, and the other was when Balder had revealed his grand plan over her brother’s corpse.

But neither one had the certainty, the absoluteness, of Khepri’s words. They hit her like a truck speeding on a highway, an inevitability that was here and no longer able to be stopped. This wasn’t death. Death was a tangible concept that everyone knew; this was beyond that. To not exist meant that everything about Damien would disappear. Her memories, his being, his impact; it would simply be as if it never existed.

Because it never would have.

She couldn’t handle it. Bayonetta turned away and slowly stumbled towards a nearby bench, trying to keep the remaining, tattered pieces of her psyche from falling apart. Her buttocks hit wood and her hands gripped her temples; a physical effort to retain her mental state. Was it working? The hell if she knew.

It just… It just wasn’t fair. Jeanne was essentially gone. Damien was going. Her mother was dead, killed as a puppet. Her father was a man who-

He didn’t exist. Her father may have helped to conceive her, but that was the extent of their relationship. Balder could burn in Inferno and rot away, completely and utterly forgotten.

The Left Eye pulsed and she instinctively covered that side of her face, grimacing in pain. It was a stark reminder of just what the reason for all of this was; the power it contained and what she could wield. Balder had laid waste to millions and altered history as he saw fit to merely get his hands on it. Their latest adversary was seemingly no different with their reckless attacks with Angels into populated cities. Unlike last time, it seemed there would be a consequence or a price would

But just who was ‘them’? Did they not know that the Left Eye, as powerful as it was, was useless without the Right Eye?

Jeanne’s words came back to haunt her: “I can still sense the Right Eye in this world. But, there’s something off about it. Like I can’t pinpoint exactly where it is.”

Just where was this elusive Right Eye? The theory that both Luka and Dante had put forward was that it disappeared along with Balder, but it never had. The sensation of the power had always remained a constant, a buzzing that never ebbed or flowed.

And just so tantalizingly out of reach.

“Hey.”

Bayonetta raised her head to see Loki approaching her, his hands held behind his back. The rest of his posture exuded concern and his tone was no different. She didn’t blame him.

She felt like a wreck. She probably looked like one too. It was honestly impressive she hadn’t started crying yet.

“Little one,” she greeted back, her voice hoarse and wavering. A cringe followed and Bayonetta looked down at her knees again. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry. It’s been a hell of a five minutes, has it not?” Loki climbed into the chair beside her, relaxing back on his arms. “I don’t blame you for anything. If anything, this is a perfectly normal reaction.”

“You don’t like that name. It would be best for me to stop using it.”

Loki chuckled and shook his head. “Before I knew anything about anything, yeah. But now? There are far more things to be worried about than a name. Little One doesn’t define who I am, therefore I don’t worry about it.”

“That’s awfully mature of you,” Bayonetta commented with a slight amount of surprise.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I guess some recent events have really forced me to be a bit more perspective on everything. You know, before you came along, I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. Now you’re here and I’ve gotten more and more of my memories back, it doesn’t make any more sense.

“You have this whole thing with the Remembrance, the Eyes of the World, some weird hybrids, a Lumen Sage is hunting us, and a Demon is not only not trying to kill us, but she’s actively being benevolent. I feel like this is a little more than just your everyday, basic conspiracy.”

“Would you like me to get you a tinfoil hat?” Bayonetta peered at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That reference is lost on me, I’m afraid.” The boy swung his legs innocently, kicking both in an entirely irregular pattern with the left moving faster than the right. “But I believe it to be something greater than just… random?”

“Random?” she scoffed, annoyance leaking into her tone. “Little one, my sister, my best friend, is dead because of something ‘random?’ Are you saying that my brother, the only piece of family and blood I have left on this accursed world, will disappear and cease to exist because ‘random!?’ Are you hearing what you are saying!?”

“I don’t mean it like that! Or at all! What I’m saying is that there’s a lot more going on than-”

“Than?”

“I don’t know! But whatever is happening now, is happening for a reason. I can guarantee that.” Loki sighed and covered his face. “Maybe Khepri- where the fuck did Khepri go?”

He jumped off and began to search the area, cards appearing in his hands. He flicked them out at the walls of the ruins and they pierced through the stone like they were nothing. “I swear she was right there literally seven or so seconds ago.”

“Did she say something about where she was going?” Bayonetta followed the boy’s movements with a raised eyebrow, then noticed that Damien had been abandoned on a bench. Khepri did appear from him, after all, so presumably the Madama had simply… gone… back… in?

Since when was her brother possessed by a Madama?

There was a lot Bayonetta still did not know about his trip into Paradiso. She had gathered that the last leg of his journey before he arrived in Noatun was in the realm of the Divine, but what actually transpired there neither Khepri or Loki himself had explained. Standing up from the bench, she slowly walked over to his bench and knelt beside it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not expecting an answer. One gloved hand caressed his cheek lightly, recoiling when Bayonetta realised it was covered in sweat. “And why are you carrying a Demon now?”

“POWERFUL. ME THINK POWER HOLDS MADAMA AT BAY.”

Bayonetta flinched. You need to stop shouting.

“SORRY!”

‘Diomedes has a point,’ Butterfly spoke up, her tone subdued. ‘Your brother is very much magically inclined, unlike you. That kind of power is more suitable to fighting possession, but if Khepri truly wanted in there would be no stopping her.’

Hey! We’re both perfectly capable!

She swore Butterfly chuckled. ‘You, my dear, are a far superior fighter. And I don’t deal with mystics. I find their kind to be… lacking.’

That’s a little rude. Damien is more than capable in… almost every situation.

‘What about that time with the vampire?’ Butterfly asked.

Bayonetta almost burst out laughing. Instead, she settled on a quiet chuckle and a tap on the sleeping man’s nose. That was more hilarious than anything else. But thank you.

‘Thank me? For what?’

For cheering me up.

Butterfly was silent for a moment. ‘That was not my intention. But if this brings you to a state of mind where you are to continue onwards and stop the annihilation of the universe, then I am glad to be of assistance.’

And not that you care?

The silence was more than enough to draw another chuckle from her. Bayonetta smirked and stood up, satisfied with the condition of her brother, returning her attention to Loki. The boy was standing there, one finger tapping on his chin and look of intense concentration on his face.

“Well, wherever she is, she’s not here,” he announced with a sigh. “As much as I want to keep moving, we’re kinda stuck until Khepri comes back or Damien here wakes up. Something tells me that both are mutually inclusive events.”

“You certain Khepri didn’t just return to where she came?” Bayonetta asked.

“Are you talking about Inferno or him?” Loki gestured to the man besides her. “Because I’m certain she came from him. Is that normal?”

“No. As far as I know brother dearest here hasn’t housed anything other than the souls he was infused with. This is a more recent development.”

Bayonetta cast her mind back to Khepri’s words. Damien had pushed and pushed himself well beyond his limits, ones that were already lower than normal due to being a ‘horse’ for a month, so it was far more than likely that his constitution was damaged – a fact already confirmed by the Demon herself. When she was in, Damien functioned normally. Now she was out…

Khepri wasn’t a liar. She withheld the truth, but never misrepresented it. Even with that reassurance, Bayonetta felt that her words weren’t exactly correct. If she truly was borrowing strength from the futureless man to bring to the present, then why did it look like he was reliant on her? The former was simply a paradox of the highest degree, whereas the former was almost a definite given the evidence.

Was she granting him her own strength instead? A small pact that would grow and grow until-

“She’s really not inside him, is she?” She tried not to sound panicked.

“No. My cards would have found her by now,” Loki tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”

“I think…” She swallowed and straightened up. “Yes. It could be a problem. But for now?”

Bayonetta let her gaze linger on his face before diverting her attention back to Damien. “I just wonder what is going on inside that head of yours.”

…