Babylonia, one week after the Babel Tower incident.
Dante and Vergil sit in a dessert shop nestled in Babylonia's commercial district. With most of the people still at work, only a handful of customers linger in the establishment.
Dante glances at Vergil beside him, who is quietly flipping through the pages of a book—a poetry collection borrowed from Babylonia's library.
You think that Science Council can actually make something to help us get back?
Vergil doesn't look up, nor does he answer Dante's question.
Hey, don't pretend you didn't hear me!
...Perhaps they can. Perhaps they cannot.
Wow, real helpful answer. Thanks.
Vergil turns the page.
If you're so bored, go pester someone else. The Science Council's eccentrics might entertain you.
A shudder runs down Dante's spine as he recalls the Science Council members' eyes gleaming at the sight of them.
These researchers have shown uncontainable curiosity toward the two otherworldly visitors, desperately trying to convince them to stay and assist with tests and experiments.
I'd rather be at Patty's birthday party.
Here are your strawberry sundae and water, sirs.
Dante takes the sundae, shovels a huge spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, and releases a deep, contented hum.
Seriously, you gotta try the strawberry sundae.
Vergil takes a delicate sip of water.
After all these years, you still indulge in such childish tastes.
<size=45>Say that again?!</size>
At least I don't waste my time reading weird old books all day.
With a sharp snap, Vergil shuts the book and lifts his gaze to meet Dante's.
Ha, finally brave enough to look me in the eye?
There's a training spot not far from here. Up for a little warm-up?
Lead the way.
Simulation Training Field
Babylonia
Simulation Training Field, Babylonia.
Let me see how this device works.
The training area's backdrop constantly shifts as Dante fiddles with the control panel.
Hey, they even have a Babel Tower simulation.
And they've got music too. These guys got some taste.
Let me try this one...
Nope, absolutely horrible.
The training field's sound system plays song after song, with Dante quickly skipping to the next track each time.
This one's pretty good, but not quite what I'm looking for.
This is it!
Hmm... I bet Nero would really dig this song...
I've waited long enough, Dante.
With those words, Vergil surges forward, his right leg carving a graceful arc through the air as he drives a vicious kick toward Dante's head.
Dante whirls around, arms snapping up to block.
Don't be so hasty, Vergil. We've got all the time in the world to play.
With a flick of his wrist, Dante grabs Vergil's ankle with one hand.
Take this!
Planting his left foot, he pivots hard, muscles coiling as he hurls Vergil skyward.
Yet even as he's flung backward, Vergil acts. Yamato flashes free, a streak of steel hurled with lethal precision—timed perfectly to strike as Dante's momentum wanes, right before he can reposition himself.
Dante catches the cold glint of steel and moves on instinct, twisting his body just a half-turn farther.
The blade whispers past, slicing through his coat's hem before biting deep into the ground.
Vergil hasn't landed yet. Seizing the opening, Dante wrenches Yamato from the ground and hurls it toward his brother's landing point.
A smile curls Vergil's lips, his scabbard snapping up horizontally. As he lands, Yamato slides perfectly home, but the force of the throw still slams him back several feet before he skids to a halt.
Looks like I'm up one.
Dante glances at the gash in his coat's hem.
Cheap tactics don't earn points. The match is still even.
Whatever you say...
The devil sword materializes in Dante's grip just as Vergil unsheathes Yamato, both poised to strike.
They stand in silent opposition, eyes locked on each other, the world narrowing to the space between them.
Blood burns in their veins. Grins curl their lips. The air itself thrums with thrill.
Without signal or countdown, they charge forward in perfect unison, a heartbeat of silence falling over the training field.
The clash detonates like a storm. A massive shockwave tears outward, followed by a thunderclap that shakes the field's foundations.
It's been way too long since we had a proper throwdown like this, Vergil!
Sparks erupt in a blazing arc where the devil sword meets Yamato, each strike a declaration of unmatched power.
I thought I'd be stuck here forever, never seeing you again.
Can you imagine that?
Utterly boring.
That's right! Utterly boring!
But you came anyway.
Guess we're just doomed to keep this clash going forever, huh?
As if ordained by fate itself.
Even in another world, the fight between the Sons of Sparda continues.
Their blades carve chaos, steel flashing as blood scatters through the air.
From childhood to manhood, from past to present.
To see one's justice through, one must fight for it. For power. To protect what's important.
Their white hair appears disheveled from the battle. The same face, the same power, the same blood—for a fleeting moment, the twins fall in a daze, each seeing himself in the other.
When did their paths begin to diverge?
Was it during that confrontation on the cliff? Or during that fire? Or perhaps... even longer ago?
You're still so stubborn, and just as thoughtless.
And you're still wearing that smug look on your face.
Smiles bloom alongside blood.
Vergil! Dante!
Perhaps one day, the story of the Sons of Sparda will come to an end.
But for now, their legend still endures.
