Mission: 053 Dante

A dozen hours earlier, at eight in the evening local time, with a light drizzle falling, at the Devil May Cry office.

The lights here had gone out far too early. Through the narrow window, the glow of the streetlamps outside faintly revealed someone sitting motionless with his legs propped on the desk, as if he had fallen asleep.

As the landline rang with a shrill "ring-ring-ring," the man asleep in the chair laboriously raised a hand, tossed aside the magazine covering his face, kicked away the empty Pizza Box on the desk, then hooked the receiver with the tip of his foot and flicked it into his hand.

"Devil May Cry~"

The man spoke into the receiver in a flippant tone.

He was a mercenary who made his living by taking jobs hunting demons, and he was probably the strongest Devil May Cry on the planet, bar none. Unfortunately, he was also extremely lazy. Unless something caught his eye, he usually waited until he was almost out of money before taking the next job.

On top of that, his fee matched his strength, which meant that although this office was well known, no one came to him unless the job was difficult and truly urgent.

"Oh, Dante, don't tell me you were sleeping again? What time is it over there?"

The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to someone the man knew very well, and the way she spoke made her sound practically like a nagging mother. So he narrowed his eyes and glanced at the wall clock opposite him, straightening up a little—though his legs still did not come down—as he asked, "Trish? I'm the one who should be asking that. Isn't it not even midnight on your side yet?"

"That's right. I've been very busy over here."

Trish's slightly distorted voice came through the receiver. "But I found something on this island that you'll definitely care about. Want to know?"

"Me?" Dante laughed despite himself. "Let me guess. Another conspiracy to rule the world? And some poor little beauty caught up in it?"

"To a certain extent, you guessed right."

Dante relaxed. "Come on, Trish. That kind of thing..."

"Don't hang up so fast." Knowing Dante's personality all too well, Trish spoke with a smile in her voice. "I sent something to your fax machine. Why don't you take a look first?"

"Fax?"

Unable to understand why this matter warranted such solemnity from Trish, Dante set down the receiver, rolled out of the redwood chair beneath him, and fumbled in the dark to turn on the fax machine in the corner of the room, watching as it slowly spat out a sheet of paper.

Then he took the paper and walked to the light by the window.

His expression turned somewhat strange.

He went back and turned on the lights, then returned to the desk, leaned against it, and picked up the receiver. "What is this?"

Trish asked in return, "What do you think it is?"

Dante turned the black-and-white photo printed by the fax machine in his hand and said, "Your latest selfie? Honestly, the editing's a bit much."

"Any other thoughts?"

"This cutesy style doesn't suit you either..."

Halfway through speaking, Dante's brows furrowed tighter and tighter.

He suddenly remembered that in order to infiltrate some organization on that island, Trish seemed to have disguised herself. Right now, she should not be wearing her original appearance.

And besides, the part at this person's chest in the photo—no matter how he looked at it—

"Hey, Trish." His voice grew low.

"Mm?"

"Tell me this is you in the picture."

"What if I say it isn't?"

"Damn it!"

Dante angrily clenched the photo in his hand, his excessive strength tearing the edge of the paper. "Those bastards—"

"Don't rush to judge yet. Hear me out."

Dante took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "Talk."

"I only found out about this today too. Yamato is on this island."

"I'm booking a ticket."

Dante made the decision on the spot.

Trish sighed helplessly. "Please, let me finish first."

"There's more?" Dante asked back, somewhat surprised.

"The Little Beauty in the photo resonates with Yamato."

In an instant, Dante froze in place as if he had turned to stone.

"I asked around. The Yamato that drifted onto this island is in fragments. It can't be repaired, and no one has been able to make it react. Not until she saw Yamato."

The petrification ended. Dante gently placed the photo in his hand on the desk before finally speaking. "You've met her?"

Trish answered as if it were only natural. "I took the photo."

Hearing that, Dante reached up and swept the loose hair on his forehead back. "I figured. That outfit is yours too, after all."

He waited a moment, then asked again, "So... what do you think?"

"It's very likely what you're guessing."

"Whew."

Dante shook his head, his tone easing a little. "Looks like that guy's got more humanity than we thought."

"You could just say 'a womanizer,'" Trish said with a laugh. "Our Little Beauty grew up in an orphanage."

"Oh! That's really not good."

After chuckling twice, Dante said, "I'll get ready and head over now. Anything else you haven't told me?"

"Nothing you'd care about. No, wait."

"Hmm?"

"You might not have noticed, but I took a few of your little cuties from your place, and now they've been stuffed into the Gate of the Demon World."

"..." For a moment, Dante's expression was hard to describe. But the person on the other end was, after all, his longtime partner, and if she wanted to take a few things, he really couldn't say much. "Sigh, fine. But you said the Gate of the Demon World?"

"A fake. But it really can connect to the Demon World. There's a real one too, but you know it can't be activated."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Sparda's Blade is in their Pope's hands."

"...Are you serious?"

Trish's tone was very calm. "I had to find out what they were trying to do, didn't I?"

"Fine, no problem. It'll be easy enough to get back anyway. What do they want that thing for?"

"Ah, that brings us back to that Little Beauty." Trish's voice carried a hint of teasing. "She's the one who gave me the last piece of information—these people calling themselves the Order of the Sword used Demonic Power to create a powerful... well, some kind of thing, called the Savior."

Dante sighed in exasperation. "Do the villains of this world have no originality at all?"

"Don't I know it? But the interesting part is, the god worshiped by the Order of the Sword is Sparda, and the core of the Savior also needs someone with the Bloodline of Sparda."

"Then they'll never succeed... Wait."

Dante spotted the blind spot. Speaking of the Bloodline of Sparda—

"You get it now, right? We're very unlucky. There just happens to be someone with the Bloodline of Sparda on this island. Now you should also know why they need Sparda's sword."

"Then we'd better hurry?" Dante pushed away from the table and loosened up his body.

"Exactly. They're only one step away from success now. If they aren't stopped in time, things could get very troublesome."

"There's no such thing as troublesome for me. But you're right... I do need to be quick."

He hung up, picked up his favored greatsword, Rebellion, and pushed the door open, stepping into the city in the rain.