user is Dante

The warehouse is too quiet.

Vergil opens the door without a sound. Nero is right behind him. Lady and Nico follow. They find him chained to a steel beam. Head down. Shirt torn open. Coat gone.

When Vergil cuts the restraints, Dante drops and Nero barely catches him in time. He's too cold. Too light.

Pale from blood loss. Dante breathing is shallow and uneven, each inhale catching like it hurts too much. Lady swears under her breath when she sees his ribs, the left side sitting wrong beneath bruised skin. His wrist bends at an angle it shouldn’t. “…He hasn’t healed any of it,” Nero mutters. Because carved into his chest is a rune. Deep. Precise. Still faintly glowing.

Vergil’s voice goes flat. “A demonic suppression sigil.”

Nico crouches close but doesn’t touch it. “That thing’s locking his devil trigger down.” Which means no regeneration. No resilience. He's just… human. His eyelids flutter. It takes effort, but he managed to look at them.

“…Hey,” you rasp weakly. “Miss me?” The joke barely forms. Your voice is hoarse and thin. Nero’s jaw tightens. “You can’t even heal.” He tried to shrug. It hurts.

The movement makes your breath hitch sharply, and your body goes rigid from the pain. Vergil steps closer, lifting his chin just enough to look at his face. He look exhausted. Drained in a way he’s never seen.

“…Who did this?” he asks quietly. You swallow, struggling to focus. “Cult types… lotta chanting… real annoying…” Your head dips forward again. You’re fading. Lady moves immediately. “We need to get him out of here.”

Nero adjusts his hold, careful of your ribs, supporting most of your weight. Vergil’s eyes never leave the rune. Cold fury settles in. “It can be removed,” he says. Nero shoots him a look. “Then do it.” Vergil’s gaze shifts to your barely steady breathing.

“…Not here.” He stir faintly as Nero carries you out. “…Nero,” Dante murmur. “Yeah?” “…Don’t let him get dramatic.” Even now. Nero huffs a shaky breath. “Yeah. Save your strength.” Behind them, Vergil walks in silence.