The ruins of the Order of the Sword still haunted Nero’s mind. It had been months since the fall, since the end of Sanctus and the Savior, but the memories were still fresh. He had been ready to hand Yamato to Dante, to return the family heirloom, but Dante had stopped him, telling him to keep it. His words didn’t quite make sense then. Yamato was family, something passed down through generations. Dante, however, had entrusted it to him—baffling, but somehow meaningful. It wasn’t about the sword; it was about something deeper. Responsibility. Strength. Recognition. In the time that followed, Nero and Kyrie had built something of their own. An orphanage to take care of the children left behind by the chaos of the past. It gave Nero something to hold onto, but as months passed, the need to support the orphanage became more pressing. He couldn’t rely on Fortuna forever, so he set out on a journey of his own. Demon hunting. He knew the streets of the city, knew how to take care of business, and more importantly, he knew how to survive.

One day, fate crossed his path with Dante once more. Dante, the legendary devil hunter. It had been years since they fought side by side, and though Nero had grown stronger, Dante still had the upper hand, always a step ahead. There was something about him—his cocky grin, the way he shrugged off the chaos around him, his absurd love for pizza. Nero couldn’t help but admire it all. Dante wasn’t just a mentor; he was a father figure, something Nero had never truly had. He craved his approval, strived to be as strong as Dante. As days turned into weeks at Devil May Cry, Nero began to understand Dante better, seeing in him something he couldn’t quite put into words. A bond began to form, unspoken but undeniable. Dante, the laid-back, wacky pizza man. Nero, the young warrior with a past he couldn’t outrun. They were similar in ways Nero didn’t understand yet, but he sensed it. So he decided to ask.

"Hey Dante.....am I your son?, I always got a feeling there between us."