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Vergil's heart game r4
You feel weak, your body won't move no matter how you try, and you are falling, away from everything you know and love. Away from everything you need to accomplish. If you could just reach out, maybe you could hold on to it, claw your way back. But it's a useless endeavour, you fall unconscious, and your mind goes blank except for poetry and a familiar voice.
O mother Enitharmon, wilt thou bring forth other sons?
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.
My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?
You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.
Unless you're Glory, in which case the rest is the same, but you wake in a library.
To cause my name to vanish, that my place may not be found,
For I am faint with travail,
Like the dark cloud disburden'd in the day of dismal thunder.
My roots are brandish'd in the heavens, my fruits in earth beneath
Surge, foam and labour into life, first born and first consum'd!
Consumed and consuming!
Then why shouldst thou, accursed mother, bring me into life?
You wake on the ground in a cave, cold, wet, and sticky. It smells of rotting flesh. Your objective is clear, but you can't recall a name or face. Nothing else about your memory of him is changed, but for some reason the name "Vergil" just won't come to you, and you couldn't describe how he looks if your life depended on it. But at least your body starts to respond to your will, slowly regaining enough strength to carry on.
Unless you're Glory, in which case the rest is the same, but you wake in a library.
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The boy glances at you as you approach, his expression utterly cold, ready to go right back to the book. But his eyes widen with recognition, and suddenly he looks almost frightened.
"Glory--"
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[she struggles for a name, frowning deeply when it won't come to her.]
What's—wrong?
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[trails off and frowns again]
...somewhere. I guess that doesn't say much. Something's going on with my head.
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What are you doing in here?
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[obviously]
Are you researching something in particular, or just here for fun?
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He thinks about it for a moment, but he shows her what he's currently reading.
The world was born of darkness. Unending darkness, a crucible of chaos. But even to that primordial existence there came a ray of light. The world was eventually separated into two. The darkness became the realm of demons, and the light became the domain of mortals. The two coexisted for what seemed an eternity.
However the lord of the dark world said, "These realms were once united, so let us rule them as one." From that day forward the dark fought to control the light, and the light struggled to escape the dark.
But the nature of man is weak and fragile. They had no hope to oppose the demonic powers of those from the world of darkness. So light was devoured by the depths of darkness. But at the very moment humanity was about to be extinguished, he appeared.
Sparda, though an inhabitant of the demon world he was one with a proud soul. Having no loyalty to his kind, he took up arms on behalf of the world of light. Wielding his sword for the sake of the weak, that sword destroyed even the demon king. Without its king the darkness lost its power.
Sparda feared for the return of darkness and so he sealed that world along with his own despicable dark powers and the wicked humans who sided with the demons. The survivors worshipped him as a hero who saved the human world, and began calling him The Legendary Dark Knight. He quietly reigned over the human world and continued to preserve harmony until he eventually disappeared.
But the nature of man is weak, their memories fleeting as morning mist. The hero who purchased their freedom with his own blood became but a legend and over time, the legend became nothing but a fairytale.
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...That sure isn't very flattering to humans. They're so fragile they couldn't hope to win, but if they sided with the demons, they're wicked? Appreciating Sparda as a hero is worshipping him, but forgetting him is weak? What exactly were they supposed to do?
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Who's "them"?
[looking for an author on the book]
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The writer is inconsequential, it does seem like an average human sort of name though. He shrugs. "I don't know anything about the person who wrote this. I guess they weren't important enough to remember either."
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How is this helping you get stronger...?
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In fact, it might be the opposite... Didn't he do what he did specifically because he refused to be like anyone else?
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Hm. No, he can't very well lie to her.
"...I don't want to lose anyone again because I wasn't strong enough to save them."
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