Chapter 1:

Millennia ago, the demon world was ruled by a tyrannical devil know only as Mundus. Like any tyrant, his favorite pastime was sending his demonic hordes to terrorize innocents, be they demons or humans. His godlike power insured that no one would be brave or foolish enough to challenge him. It seemed like his rule was absolute. However one courageous demon warrior decided to stand against Mundus, and protect the human world. He made his way across the planet, slaying every one of Mundus' top generals. The warrior's journey has now lead him to the country of Midland, where both Mundus' strongest generals and a new ally wait for him. Soon the both human and demon alike will know the name of this dark knight; Sparda.

Some run-down tavern:

The putrid stench of death was all there was to smell at this particular den of scum and villainy. The bar looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the Stone Age, no one could tell which bodies were dead or just unconscious, and the whole place was populated by some of the ugliest sons-of-bitches that God had somehow allowed on this earth. The perfect place for a demon to hide in plain sight. Seated at a booth in the back of the pub was a young looking man with white hair. He was dressed in a long formal coat with gauntlets and greaves strapped to his limbs. He had a longsword sheathed on his back and a long curved blade hanging from his side. The strangest part of his attire had to be the monocle over his left eye. This man wasn't actually a man, but rather a demon named Sparda. Sparda was minding his own business, drinking the horse piss that the pub was trying to pass off as beer, plotting his next move. As he did this, he looked around at the disgusting scene unfolding around him. The brigands that populated the place were engaging in their typical activities; abusing some poor redheaded kid, cat calling the waitresses, and throwing knives at a small fairy that they tied to a beam. It was times like this that the demon questioned his faith in humanity. The aforementioned fairy tried in vain to free himself from his restraints as one particularly homely brigand with missing teeth threw another knife at him. The bandit primed another knife just before the aforementioned redheaded kid stopped him "You making another mess I'm gonna have to clean up?" the kid said.

"Piss off," the bandit bluntly stated. The kid crossed his arms.

"I joined up with you guys because I heard you were mercs," the redhead said in a snarky tone, "Since then you've just acted like a bunch of assholes. I want to be known for my swordwork! And it's clear that that's not gonna happen with you guys, so I'm out!" The bandit didn't say anything in response. Instead he shoved the kid to the ground and began kicking him. The kid was getting beat up bad enough to be coughing up blood.

"Don't act so high and mighty you little shitstain!" the brigand yelled, "After all the crap you just spouted, you thought you'd leave here alive?" Outraged, Sparda tightly griped the sword on his back and readied himself for an attack. However before he could tear this guy to ribbons, a large man draped in a black cloak with spiky black hair intervened.

"Hey, step aside. You're standing in my way." he said calmly. The ugly merc turned around with a look of pure rage.

"Who the hell do you think you a..." he shouted before being cut off with a swift punch to the face. That punch came from the man in black and it was able to knock out what little teeth the vermin had left. The bloodsoaked teeth landed in front of the boy's face when they became dislodged from the punchee's gums. This angered two more brigands who charged at the man in black with swords drawn. One was punched in the face while the other's sword was blocked by the man's right forearm. Sparda was shocked to see that the arm wasn't chopped off. The man's cloak opened to reveal that the arm was entirely made of metal. Using this metal arm, he punched out the last of his attackers before turning around and walking away like a badass. Now that Sparda could get a good look at what was underneath the man's cloak, he found that, in addition to the metal arm, he wore a suit of black armor with a belt of throwing knives wrapped around the breastplate. On his back was what looked like the hilt of a giant sword. Slowly this black armored warrior walked toward the bartender.

"I'm sorry for the ruckus," he said while putting a small canteen and a coin on the table, "Would you mind filling this with water, and a bottle of rum?" The bartender complied with the warrior's request. Sparda carefully examined the warrior further from his booth. The demon could tell that this man has more than just seen combat, he's been through hell on earth. He could also feel something coming off of him, something unnatural. One thing was clear to Sparda though, this man was the toughest looking human he had ever seen. And for the mission that he was on, he needed tough. He decided to ditch the cesspool of the tavern and tail the black armored warrior into the forest.

Some Forest:

Just outside of the rundown town where the tavern was, there existed a vast expanse of forest. And that forest was creepy as shit. The dense leaves coated the entire area in a dark shadow even during the daytime. Weird noises populated the very air, and nobody's really sure if those noises were made by people, animals, or something else. Plus there was that old legend about how this particular forest was home to an insane cult who used to tear out people's intestines, nail the organs to trees, and make the poor victims run around them until they inevitably died. Surprisingly, the poor sap who decided to enter this forest knew all of this and still decided that venturing into it would be a good idea. The sap in question would be a small, winged, blue haired elf boy named Puck. After being tied up and forced into the role of target by a group of brutal bandits, the elf was eager to find the man who saved him. After all, Puck had nowhere else to go. It should surprise no one that amidst the dark and shadowy woods a single campfire wouldn't be hard to spot. Seated next to the fire was a large man with black spiky hair, dressed in a suit of black armor. He was there cooking up a rabbit carcass as stoically as possible. He didn't even notice when Puck entered his line of sight. The pixie-like elf chuckled triumphantly as the warrior gnawed some meat off of his dagger.

"You shouldn't abandon someone after helping them," Puck stated in a chipper tone, "Show some responsibility." The black armored warrior ignored the elf and continued to cook his dinner. Puck was still determined to get some kind of conversation out of him though. "Oh I have a question," Puck continued while flying behind the warrior, "What's this heavy lump you're carryin'?" The object the elf was referring to was wrapped in a layer of cloth with what looked like a sword handle sticking out of the top. The warrior continued to ignore the elf. Puck was beginning to get desperate. "By the way I'm Puck, nice to meetcha," he nervously said, "I was traveling with a group of entertainers, but they got attacked by those rotten bandits. They stuffed me in a birdcage and dipped me in a cask of ale. Completely terrifying, I'm amazed I'm still alive to tell the tale." Once again, the elf's attempt at conversation was ignored by the warrior. At this point Puck was past nervous and into angry. Practically steaming he yelled at the warrior, "Hey look, I'm almost positive that those nasty bandits have a lot of buddies nearby. And those guys are really skilled fighters. If you're not out of here in a hurry, you could be in big trouble!" The warrior, while still acting like he didn't hear the elf, poured some rum into his frying pan. A small burst of fire erupted from the pan, almost roasting the poor elf alive. "Hey! Are you trying to roast me alive you jerk?" Puck shouted.

"You can either stop yammering, or die," the warrior finally said in a deep gravely voice. Puck was able to get the message and flew off. He knew when he wasn't wanted. He could faintly hear his savior loudly chewing as the distance between them grew. Eventually, he couldn't see the light of the warrior's campfire anymore. The poor elf began to wander aimlessly. Time seemed to blur in this dark forest, as the elf could practically feel the minutes melting into hours. It didn't help that the noises the trees emitted seemed to become louder and more distorted. The light of the full moon barely made it's way through the thick layer of leaves. As if to add insult to injury, rain began to fall after a thunderous clap of lightning shook the very earth. Fear began to set in the elf's small and naked body. His entire body began to shiver uncontrollably as he became increasingly cold and paranoid. Puck soon began to hear something in between the lightning strikes. It almost sounded like footsteps. Oh no, What if it's those bandit guys? Puck thought. He frantically tried to formulate a plan to escape until he was stopped by a man's voice.

"Hey aren't you the fairy from the tavern?" the voice said. Puck screamed in terror. There was no way in hell that he was going back to being a target for those rotten bandits. By pure instinct he turned around to face his attacker and punched him square in the face. Unfortunately that punch was ineffective against a human sized opponent. Fortunately the punch's receiver wasn't one of the bandits. He was a tall, slender man with a handsome face. He was dressed in a long formal coat that was dark red in color. Silver gauntlets and greaves were strapped to the man's limbs. His two most unusual features were the monocle he wore on his left eye and his brushed back white hair.

"Oh, you're not a bandit," Puck said while slightly embarrassed.

"What was your first clue," the man sarcastically stated.

"And for the record, I'm not a fairy. I'm an elf and my name is Puck," Puck stated in an annoyed tone.

"Well Puck, my name's Sparda, and what are you doing out here alone and naked?"

"Long story…"

"Well in any case you need some protection and I need someone to talk to. So why don't you and I team up to solve both our problems." Sparda flashed a confidant smile at the little elf. Puck suddenly started to feel a lot better, and more importantly safer, now that this man was here to protect him. Sparda opened a pocket on his coat and Puck nestled in there quite nicely. The two then walked off, proceeding deeper and deeper into the almost certainly haunted woods, at night, in the rain.

Same Forest:

The rain poured down hard in the dark woods. The only light that could be observed came from the occasional bolt of lightning. There didn't seem to be anywhere left to hide from the hostile presence that infected the very air. In spite of all of that, a hooded man continued to trudge onward. His legs so weighed down by armor as well as his own bulk, that his feet were practically buried in the mud. His face was fixed into an expression of stoic fury, emphasized by the fact that he only had one eye open. Nothing seemed to phase this guy as he ignored the rain, thunder, and ominous noises. The only thing that stopped him was a covered wagon that almost passed him. "Would you like a ride?" A voice from the front of the wagon called, "Not easy traveling in this rain at night."

"I'm fine, keep moving," the hooded man's gruff voice responded to the old man at the front.

" Come now don't be that way," the elderly man retorted, "My daughter thinks we should help you." A young girl with blonde hair poked her head out from the back of the wagon.

"Trust me, I'm refusing for your own good," the wanderer answered back. A long pause followed before the man spoke again, "I'm possessed by evil spirits, I'm cursed."

"Well that is unfortunate," the wagon driver said, "But there's no need for you to worry my boy for on my side is God, and a spirit of good fortune." As if on cue a small blue haired fairy like creature popped out from behind the girls head. The wanderer recognized that fairy, it was the fairy that interrupted his dinner. The fairy mockingly stuck his tongue out at him. "Now, hop on would you," the old man stated. Eventually the wanderer caved and found himself boarding the back of the wagon. Once he got in there, he was given a towel to help dry off. Removing his hood revealed spiky black hair and a black suit of armor, as well as a black metal arm. The man began to dry his hair, and it was at that time that he found that he wasn't the only stray wanderer that this old man picked up. At the other end of the wagon was a slim man with white hair, dressed in a formal coat.

"You're the guy from the pub aren't you?" the white haired man asked.

"I might be," the black haired wanderer answered.

"I saw how you punched out those bandits," the white haired man continued, "I have to say, I'm impressed."

"Thank you," A long awkward silence passed for several minutes. It was then that the girl brought the two men some wine, saying that it would warm them up. The white haired man accepted, the other refused. After black armored man threw the flask at the elf, the girl's attention was brought to his metal arm.

"Did you get wounded in battle?" she asked him.

"My arm was taken by a spirit," he answered. The girl slightly recoiled in fear.

"That's awful, I'm sorry," she said nervously.

"Come now sir," the girl's father responded, "Please don't frighten my daughter with your ghost stories. By the way what's your name?"

"It's Guts," the black haired man responded.

"I'm Adolf and my daughter is Collette," the old man said.

"And my name's Sparda," the white haired man responded. "And by the way, is that thing on your back…" Sparda gestured towards a large wrapped object that Guts was leaning up against. Guts then shot him an intense glare, cueing Sparda to stop asking questions.

"I was at the tavern earlier," Adolf said, "I don't like violence, but saving that elvan child was a noble act. You don't seem to be a bad man. So are you a mercenary?"

"Something like that," Guts stoically answered.

"Can't say I approve of a business that involves killing people for money. It really shouldn't be so easy to take a human life. Even if you're doing it for the sake of another."

"This is why I hate pacifist monks."

"Amen to that brother," Sparda chimed in, "Let's face it; in this cruel world we live in, the only way to protect the innocent, is to kill the guilty. After all, might controls everything. And without strength, you cannot protect anything."

"You both sound like my nephew," Adolf mused, "He left home to make a name for himself with his sword. Five years ago, he died on the battlefield, just a nameless footsoldier. If he'd stayed home, he'd still be alive to find happiness, maybe even have a family. What a foolish boy." The elf Puck nestled himself into Sparda's pocket just as Adolf's story ended.

"And how's that," Guts chimed in, "No matter the cost, he died doing what he wanted. I'd call him a lucky man. Though once you're dead none of that matters, it's still the end of the line." Sparda could sense an intense sadness in Guts' expression. The devil in disguise could tell that there was some serious personal baggage behind that statement. "I think it's time for me to turn in," Guts said after a long pause. Collette offered the warrior a blanket so that he wouldn't catch cold. This time he accepted the girl's offer, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Puck followed suit within the confines of Sparda's pocket. Sparda then reached for the flask of wine only to find that it was empty. The blushing expression on the elf's face confirmed the demon's suspicions. Sparda decided to follow Puck and Guts' lead, and rested his eyes while leaning back against the wall of the wagon. Sleep soon found him as he drifted off into dreamland.

A dark wet alleyway:

A shirtless Guts charged his way in between two brick walls. His right arm was gone and he felt as if his lungs were about to explode. He didn't know how long he had been running, and he didn't really care either. He just had to get away. Regrettably he stopped to catch his breath only to look down and see the reflection of a demonic red eye in the puddles on the ground. Unearthly growling sounds echoed from the direction the black swordsman was running from. These growls caused the back of his neck to feel an intense pain. Blood trickled out of a brand on his neck. Gut's limped his way along the alleyway, until eventually reaching the end. What he was greeted with was a lake of mutilated corpses. The water was red with the blood of several dozen dead former warriors, former comrades, former friends. Guts waded his way through the bloody water, every corpse a grim reminder of what he wasn't able to protect. He was eventually greeted by a giant deformed head with one glowing red eye. It only said one thing in a high pitched voice with a demonic undertone, "You will never escape." Suddenly visions armor clad warriors flooded into his mind, every one of them wearing a confidant smile. Eventually Guts' witnessed an image of a naked woman with dark skin and short brown hair. The woman was suddenly dragged into a pit of demonic creatures that violated every oriphice on her body. Guts began to scream in anguish, and suddenly found himself at the base of what looked like a giant hand resting under an eclipsed sun. On top of four fingers stood a different demonic silhouette. The figure in the palm of the hand was clear enough to make out. It was a slim man dressed in a skintight black suit with a helmet shaped like a the beak of a hawk.

"GRIFFITH!" Guts screamed as he charged at the black suited figure. Murderous bloodlust was in the swordsman's eye. This man was responsible for the hell the Guts was now in. He was responsible for the unfathomable pain and misery the black swordsman was subjected to every day. He was the reason that everyone whom he had called a friend was now rotting inside the stomachs of monstrous demons. Guts aimed his dagger right at Griffith's jugular, only to stab something else in the real world. Guts woke up to a small demonic eyeball with tentacles impaled on his dagger. The demon struggled before Guts threw it aside. The demon corpse hit Sparda in the head and fell into his lap. Puck poked his head out to see what the commotion was about. Both of them screamed and woke up Collette in the process. The wagon stopped suddenly while everyone in it went to survey the damage.

"What is that thing?" Adolf asked.

"An incubus," Guts answered, "It causes nightmares and feeds on terror."

"So this is what you meant by 'evil spirits'," Sparda observed, "Question is, why did it attack you?"

"This brand attracts them to me," Guts said while motioning towards the brand on the back of his neck.

"A sacrifice brand?" Sparda questioned quietly, "Alright we don't have much time. Adolf, Collette stay here. Guts come with me. We have to secure the perimeter before more come."Guts then winced in pain and started to walk out of the wagon. On his way out, he grabbed the wrapped object and Sparda could see blood leaking from the brand.

"The hell is going on here?" Puck shouted.

"Incubi are born from dead bodies and they never travel alone. Shit's about to get real so stay inside fairy boy!" Sparta yelled back while drawing a sword from his back. The sword in question was a bastard sword with a skull shaped pommel that seemed to have a faint blue glow. A tense minute passed as Sparda and Guts carefully surveyed their surroundings, waiting for something to pop out from the shadows. The horses at the front of the wagon suddenly started to freak out, startling even the stoic Guts. Collette jumped out of the wagon to help Adolf calm them down.

"Idiot, get inside!" Guts yelled at Collette.

"I will as soon as…" Collette was cut off by a blow to the gut. Everyone else in the wagon became witness to the sight of the small girl being impaled by sticking out of the ground. The lance wielder soon surfaced from the underground, revealing himself to be an armored skeleton with bits of bloody flesh still stuck on the bones. An entire army of similar skeleton warriors rose out of the ground and surrounded the wagon. Provoked by Collette's death, Guts held out his arm and began firing arrows out of it. Sparda also began to strike back at this army of darkness. With one swing of his sword he swiftly cut three skeletons in half, severing them at the spinal column.

"You two have to get out of here!" Puck warned the both of them.

"You're welcome to leave if you want to," Gut's bluntly pointed out.

"Are you guys insane? You'll both die if you try to take them all on!" Puck retorted.

"That news is old," Guts then reached onto his back and pulled out the wrapped object by the handle. The cloth soon came undone as he swung it with all of his strength, smashing five skeletons to pieces in the process. Sparda and Puck stared in awe of Guts' weapon. It was a large, double-edged sword, as tall an adult man and as wide as a human torso. The hilt was wrapped in dirty bandages and the edge of the blade was dull and chipped. Upon reflection, it was clear to Sparda that this weapon could scarcely be called a sword. It would be more accurate to call it a hulking mass of iron. In spite of how heavy it appeared to be, Guts was swinging away like it was a mere children's toy. Easy downing about a dozen skeletons and even a few trees with wide, arcing slashes. If this display proved anything to Sparda, it's that the kid gloves were off.

The demon warrior gave a confidant smirk as seven skeleton soldiers charged at him at once. Suddenly the skeleton's target was surrounded by several ghostly versions of his main sword. These summoned swords then flung themselves at the skeletons, nailing them to nearby trees. Sparda was then rushed from the left, getting speared through the arm. The demon knight returned the favor and sliced the attacker into three pieces. He pulled the spear out of his arm and impaled a skeleton that was rushing him from behind without even turning around. Eventually Guts and Sparda were forced back-to-back, and Sparda decided that now was the best time to ask the black swordsman some questions. "So that's a sacrifice brand right?" He asked Guts after bisecting another skeleton.

"Is now really the best time?" Guts angrily questioned, cutting down three more skeletons with a horizontal slash.

"I'm just saying that you're a lucky man to still be alive," Sparda pointed out, "I've seen some brands like…" The demon was interrupted by two skeletons spearing him through the chest. "Excuse me a moment," the impaled demon politely stated. He then removed the spears from his chest and readied his sword. While wielding the spears in between the fingers in his left hand and his sword in his right, the demon began to slash and stab furiously at the army of skeletons, shouting at them, "I... was in the middle… of a conversation." Sparda then charged and shish kababed five skeletons on each weapon. He then summoned more astral swords and, with one mighty spin of his body, flung the skeletons, spears, and astral swords at the surrounding demon army. This maneuver eliminated over half of the skeletons and mesmerized Guts. Sparda then backflipped behind Guts and encased the two of them in a dome of spinning astrals swords, slicing apart any undead warrior who was stupid enough to try to rush them. "So like I was saying, I've seen mark like that before, but nothing in that specific shape."

What the hell is this guy? the black swordsman thought.

"Although," Sparda continued, "That brand does look familiar…" The demon began pacing around, until suddenly snapping his fingers, "That's it, you were a sacrifice to the God Hand."

"What?" Guts exclaimed. The utterance of those words caused Guts' mind to flashback to the final night he spent with his former comrades. More specifically, the demons who were responsible for their deaths. There were five of them; a robed figure with it's brain sticking out, a succubus like woman with large bat wings, a small head with a permanent grin, another demon with closed eyes and clasped hands, and the beak helmeted man known as Griffith. Guts could feel himself foaming at the mouth in rage. A scream from Puck brought him back to reality. The two warriors' attention was brought to the back of the wagon. What they saw shocked them. Collette was still alive, holding a rusty sword in one hand and her father's severed head in the other. Her eyes were completely engulfed in shadow and she was wearing a disturbing smile. The girl then hopped out of the back of the wagon and started shambling towards the two warriors. Sparda deactivated his spinning sword dome out of utter disbelief. The obviously possessed girl then did something even more shocking by stabbing Guts in the stomach with her sword. Sparda and Puck both gasped in horror. Reflexively, Guts swung his sword at his attacker, slicing her in half at the waist. Puck and Sparda were utterly speechless. Guts looked at the blood on his hands as the image of the creery girl flashed in his mind. Unsurprisingly, all of this mental scarring caused Guts to go on an unstoppable rampage, slaughtering the remaining skeletons. The black swordsman stuck his sword into the ground, using it to keep himself upright while he caught his breath. He soon felt hand on his shoulder, Sparda's hand to be exact.

"She was possessed Guts," the demon knight reassured, "There was nothing we could do." Before Guts could respond, the upper half of Collette's corpse was grabbed by a wooden hand that was protruding from the ground. Suddenly several tree roots with demonic faces grabbed both warriors, restraining all of their limbs. Both of them tried their best to cut themselves out of there, but the roots wouldn't let them swing their swords. The roots then turned them around to face a giant tree demon with hundreds of glowing jack-o-lantern esque faces on its body. Several of these faces had sharp bloody teeth. Several sharp roots then impaled Guts through the shoulder and Sparda through the stomach. Puck was frozen in fear, wondering just what the hell was going on. Guts' attention was brought to Collette's severed torso as it was being slowly lowered into the tree demon's largest mouth. Rage began to fill the black swordsman's mind, to the point where everything started to look a little red. Guts screamed and struggled harder. Miraculously he was able to free his metal arm. His right hand then folded downward, making way for a small cannonball to fire out of it. Sparda summoned several swords to cut himself free after the explosion. The two landed on the ground in front of the creature. They each readied themselves for the attack.

"You demented kindling!" Guts shouted as he pulled his sword behind his head, "It's time for you to DIE!" As Guts charged at the creature, Sparda fired swords at it's torso in a staggered pattern. Guts then jumped from sword to sword, eventually ending up several feet above the creature. With one mighty downward slash, Guts drove his sword into the tree demon's head, cutting the entire thing in half. A huge explosion blanketed the entire clearing in smoke. Once the haze cleared, the clouds began to break. Sunlight illuminated the two swordsmen who stood victorious above a mountain of broken skeletons. Speaking of skeletons, ghostly figures rose out from their broken remains. These spirits of the dead continued to rise up into the sky until they were all out of sight. Guts and Sparda stood over the torso of the young Collette, realizing that they couldn't save her.

"This… this isn't your fault," Puck pointed out to the two swordsmen. To everyone's surprise, Guts started laughing.

"Your right, this is on them," he stated, "Only the weak get killed in someone else's battle. If you can't live life fulfilling your desires, you're better off dead." The black swordsman then sheathed his sword and started walking off, crushing a few skulls under his boots along the way. The demon and elf followed closely behind. "I'm a menace, one those people were too weak to protect themselves from. That's all there is to it. If I worried about crushing ants, I'd be stuck in place forever." It was then that something… unexpected happened. It was as if the trees themselves started emitting three or four demonic voices, and all of them were mocking Guts. They said that he belonged to them so long as he had that brand on his neck and began to fight over who would get his heart. Guts' anger continued to rise and almost boiled over. It was Sparda that unintentionally calmed him down.

"So is this what the mighty God Hand is reduced to, stalking some random tribute? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Who's voice is that?" a sultry female voice mused, "Oh now I remember, the traitor Sparda."

"Insults are far less effective when they come from the mouth of a whore with a god complex Slan." Sparda retorted, "And I hope you four enjoy being gods, it'll make dethroning you all the sweeter."

"A little overconfident aren't you?" a shrill male voice spoke.

"I have every right to be confidant, considering that you're the only dogs Mundus has left to hide behind, Ubik."

"I see you are still the same fool that you've always been Sparda," stated a deep male voice.

"Really Void? If I'm such a fool, then why don't you reveal yourself and finish me off right here? Oh wait you can't because you know that I'm too strong for you!" Sparda didn't get a response to his quip. The voices of the God Hand simply faded away with a low growling noise. Sparda gloated over his verbal victory.

"What are you?" Guts asked him.

"Well I could tell you," Sparda answered, "But you have to do something for me in return."

"What is it?" Guts impatiently questioned. Sparda walked over to where the black swordsman was standing, holding out his arm as if expecting a handshake.

"I want you to help me take out the God Hand." Sparta concluded with a confidant smirk plastered onto his face.

Author's Note:

So that's chapter one down. If you're wondering about Sparda's arsenal, I decided to have him start out with with Vergil's Summoned Swords as well as Force Edge, Yamato, and the devil arm Gilgamesh from Devil May Cry 4. I feel like I may have stuck a bit too closely to the first episode of the anime, but that's just how this came together. Review and let me know what you think.