With all the demons cleared out, Nero reloaded the dual pistols in the now-quiet church, the faint roar of something in the distance catching her ear. Could that be the demon ruling this forest?
Whatever it was, it sounded pissed. And Nero? She really didn't want to tangle with it. Not yet. Without the Yamato blade powered up and ready, the "Light and Shadow" bullets—uninfused with demonic energy—were about as effective as tickling a beast like that.
After sorting her gear, Nero climbed the church's staircase to the second floor. Pushing open a door carved into the mountainside, she smirked as her memory proved right—a hidden passage stretched across the valley.
Just like she remembered, two demons floated in the air between the valley's cliffs.
"Mephistos," she muttered. In her past life, she'd called these creeps "Little Reapers." Draped in cloaks of dark demonic energy, they ignored gravity and phased through walls like ghosts.
With the forest below crawling with its own demonic pests, the skies were the only place left for critters like these. Still, Nero doubted those parasitic demon flowers down there could latch onto something as slippery as a Mephisto.
She sprinted along the valley's rickety walkway, the two demons trailing her. They weren't fast—Nero was leaving them in the dust as she bolted.
Let's get one thing straight: this wasn't about Nero being unable to take them down. Even without demonic juice, her silver-laced exorcist bullets could shred their cloaks in enough numbers, exposing the Mephisto's frail core. Without their fancy magic capes, they were sitting ducks—couldn't fly, couldn't phase, and any human with a stick could wreck them.
So why run? Simple. It wasn't worth the ammo. Burning through bullets to kill these two wasn't her style.
Her boots clanged against the walkway, the sound bouncing off the cliffs in a chorus of echoes. After a good stretch, Nero glanced back—no sign of the demons. She slowed to a walk, catching her breath.
"Ugh…"
She sighed, pressing a hand to her chest, fingers brushing the scar that now pulsed with demonic power. Another sigh, this time with a bitter chuckle. "Times like this, I really miss the ol' Devil Bringer."
She was talking about the original Nero's demonic right arm from the game. That thing was a beast—insane strength, grappling demons like they were toys, and it naturally channeled magic.
Something this Nero didn't have.
Her demonized part wasn't her arm—it was her chest, thanks to where she'd been injured.
"What's a chest good for? Shooting laser beams?" she grumbled, tapping the spot and striking a few poses. No lasers, obviously.
Without a weapon like the Devil Bringer, her combat power was… well, let's just say it wasn't cutting it.
"Ugh."
And if that wasn't bad enough, she started thinking about the future. If this world followed the game's script, some mysterious jerk was gonna show up and steal the Yamato. Back then, Nero lost an arm. This time? It'd be her heart. Good luck surviving that one.
The more she thought, the more it pissed her off. She ruffled her hair in frustration, then smoothed it out, realizing this nagging anxiety had been haunting her ever since she heard about the Demon Sword Festival.
That creeping dread of something bad coming.
She gave a dry laugh, remembering what Kyrie had told her before. Back then, Nero didn't know the "bad thing" wasn't what she expected.
Or maybe, deep down, she'd already sensed the story was kicking off and just couldn't piece it together.
"Ugh!"
How many sighs was that now? She'd lost count. Ever since her past-life memories came flooding back, it was one long groan-fest.
And no wonder—things were looking grim. If she couldn't save Kyrie from the Pope's clutches, Credo was as good as dead in this mess. Even with Dante backing them up, it wouldn't matter.
Credo was family, ten years of shared life. Abandoning him? Not an option. Not even a thought.
But Nero's own weakness only made the anxiety worse. Sure, she was stronger than any human, but with just her pistols and some fancy footwork, stepping into a real demon fight was a pipe dream.
"Come on, Yamato," she muttered. "Why aren't you waking up?"
Was she too late to awaken it? Or was something missing in her?
Lost in thought, a bright sliver of light appeared ahead—the exit to the valley. Nero shook her head, psyching herself up. She checked her weapons, rubbed her face, and muttered, "Time to get serious."
The area ahead was crawling with demons too. This abandoned western forest was their playground now. Nero hadn't seen a single living animal the whole way.
Probably all demon chow by now.
She stepped onto solid ground, a narrow path winding through palm trees toward a vine-covered stone bridge. Those cursed demon seeds were everywhere again. Scanning the area, she saw no other demons—guess these seeds were the source, some maybe ready to hatch.
Better safe than sorry. Nero drew her pistols and crept forward. One step, another, then another…
The forest was dead silent. No animals, no insects—just the lonely sea breeze and the crunch of leaves under her boots.
Until a piercing screech shattered the quiet.
At that distant cry, the seeds scattered across the forest exploded, tentacled plant-demons bursting out. Nero didn't have time to count—she bolted.
A quick glance told her at least ten had spawned in that instant.
Normally, these parasitic plants could barely move on their own, but two were already blocking her path. Squinting, she saw why: they'd infested animals that used to roam the forest.
Two canine-like creatures stood in her way, their bodies wrapped in vines, their original forms unrecognizable. The scraps of fur poking through were mangled—clearly, they'd been possessed for a while.
The demon seeds had devoured them.
Nero slid under a whipping tentacle, popping two bullets into each of the demon flowers.