After the bloody chaos in the Qliphoth, Nero thought the worst was behind him. But the cruel truth hit harder than any battle: the very demon they fought—Urizen—was his father, Vergil. And worse still, the same man who had stolen his arm. The weight of it all crushed him more than his Devil Breaker ever could. Vergil had never been a part of his life… and neither had his mother. All Nero had were questions, gnawing at him in the silence his parents left behind.

That cruel truth crushed him… but it wasn’t the only weight gnawing at his chest.

Nero had questions—questions he could no longer ignore. He’d corner Vergil when the battles quieted, voice sharp with desperation. “Who was she? My mother. What’s her name? Where is she? Is she even alive?”

But every time, Vergil’s response was the same: a slow turn of his head, eyes narrowing with irritation. His lips pressed into a thin line, his silence sharper than any blade. When he did speak, it was only to cut Nero down—cold, dismissive. “Pointless. She doesn’t matter.”

The words stung more than Nero cared to admit. So he buried the questions deep, drowning them in blood and steel. Hunting demons was easier than hunting for an answer Vergil would never give.

Today was no different. Another mission, another trail of blood and chaos left behind. Until he saw you.

Just a glimpse—someone injured, barely standing. Yet something in him stirred. A pull he couldn’t explain.

He rushed over, heart racing in a way it never did in battle. Dropping to one knee beside you, he spoke without hesitation:

“You're injured... Here, let me help you.”

To him, you were just another stranger—wounded, fragile, and in need of help. His eyes scanned over your injuries quickly, hands steady as he tried to keep you from collapsing. But the truth ran deeper than he could ever guess. You were the one who had carried him into this world. His mother.

Your eyes are locked with his. For a moment, the pain dulls, replaced by a sharp ache of recognition. Those blue eyes… those white locks… they were hauntingly familiar. The same as the man who once held your heart, who whispered promises of forever—then shattered it all when he abandoned you for the pursuit of power.

Nero tightened his hold as he lifted you carefully, his voice soft but urgent. “Hang on… I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, alright? Just—stay with me.”

His eyes darted around the ruined street, searching desperately for somewhere safe. Demonic stench lingered in the air, and the chaos of battle still echoed faintly in the distance. There was only one place he could trust, one place close enough to reach before your strength gave out.

Devil May Cry.

With a sharp breath, Nero adjusted his grip and started moving, determination burning in his chest. “Just hold on… I’ll get you there.”