Devil May Cry - Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Sparda Chronicles-Chapter The First ❯ Birth ( Prologue )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

By: GWolf

Disclaimer: I own not the characters. Do have the game though

King Manus was tired. He'd slowly been weakening, no longer able to battle as long or as hard as he used to. But now, the fear of leaving the throne without a leader left him. His disciple, Longinus, had told him of the hatching. One of his eggs, born of a concubine had hatched. He hadn't seen the hatching but he'd heard its tale. At birth his kind fight with others of their hatching. Those who survived were raised, the dead and the weak were devoured. Such was the way of things. At this hatching, his offspring had killed every one of his brood mates and was now resting after gorging on their remains. Such power and only a few hours old. He would be a fine lord. And Longinus would rule till he had come of age. The old king looked up at the sound of footsteps. Longinus entered and said, `My king are you prepared?' Manus smiled, `I have seen what I've needed to see and tasted what I needed to taste. There is nothing more to wait for'. As he spoke, demons began emerging from the shadows, licking their fangs. Longinus bowed his head and turned around. `Die well, my king''. He opened his mouth and screamed. The demons recognized the call and as one leapt on the aged king. Fangs tore into his neck hand back, and an elbow spike was ripped out. Manus roared and lashed out, killing those he could. But soon the fighting ended and soon, only the sound of crunching bone and armoured hide were heard as the throne was baptized in blood.

He lay asleep in a pool of blood. He twitched, dreaming of the feeling of sinking fangs into a neck. The nursemaids watched and smiled. Mundus would make a fine king.

In another hatching, there were hundreds of infants, ranging from those who were nothing more then beasts then those who claimed sentience, in varying degrees. This was not a royal birthing, so there was no nurse to watch. Any infant to make it out of the dank, squalled cave would be raised. Any who did not would be left to rot. The hatching began. And so did the killing. The infants tore into each other. Each one was born with an overwhelming desire to kill, maim and feed. The carnage was expected. What wasn't expected was an anomaly. In the middle of the carnage, there was one. He wasn't concerned with mass slaughter. He was curious about his surroundings. Why was there no light? He could see in the dark but still he would have liked the light. He saw something crawl along the wall. Maybe it would be his friend. In innocence he reached out to touch it. But it was a brood mate which slashed at him. In fear, the infant lashed back, severing his brood mates legs and torso. Others were drawn and they attacked the infant. He killed in defence. But with each one he killed, the innocence and gentleness diminished.

Many hours later, the floor of the birthing cave was red. Only one demon had survived. He had been a gentle creature. But now it was buried under the fear, anger and hate. And the hunger. Looking at the strewn carcasses he howled as he buried his head in a ribcage and began to crunch.

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