Chapter Text
Nero zigged when he should’ve zagged.
Credo probably would have called that a ‘gross oversimplification of events’ but Nero wasn’t feeling inclined to listen to the guy who had just beaten his ass while trying to ‘arrest’ him.
Failing to dodge that last blow may have been his most recent misstep, but a long trail of screw-ups led him here, crushed into the concrete by a blade longer than he was tall, by the man he’d looked up to for years. All the mishaps leading up to this were avoidable, in retrospect, if he had just calmed down and kept his fucking temper like Kyrie and Credo kept telling him. Unfortunately, his short fuse and impulsivity had left him battered and bleeding even before stepping into the arena against THE Supreme General.
No, losing to Credo wasn’t a surprise when it came down to it, the man had something like ten years more combat experience than Nero, plus he was relatively fresh to the fight. On top of that, Credo was the one who had trained him since he was just a pissy bastard kid with a wooden sword.
And the icing on the shitty cake? Credo had also been hiding a demonic trick up his sleeve. Though Credo’s sleeves were a little more metaphorical than Nero’s.
Heh. Bad joke.
Nero watched taloned feet approach from where he lay crushed on the ground, breath coming out in weak pants, mind beginning to go fuzzy and vision fading in and out for the second time that day.
‘I’ve gotta stop getting fucking stabbed.’ Nero mused.
“I am taking you into custody, try not to injure yourself further by trying to resist.” Credo’s voice rang out, as though he hadn’t just beaten Nero into a crater, the jackass.
Nero hacked to clear his throat of the blood, and spat. Again.
“Q-quit acting so- high and might-y, you’re no better than- me, we’re both- both monsters.” He wheezed.
And since when did Credo of all people have demon powers? He called himself an angel but he couldn’t be that deluded, no way. He couldn’t have had them that long either, he never would have been able to hide them from Kyrie. They were both terrible at keeping secrets from Kyrie.
Then again, maybe Credo could. Maybe it was just Nero that had a hard time hiding it. Blood pooled beneath him, sliding through the cracks of the concrete crater he lay in, soaking through his shirt as his eyes slid shut.
Maybe he never really knew Credo at all.
“I am no demon. I take no pleasure in this, Nero. I don’t know how you attained it but using demonic power is a danger,”
‘Oh here we go,’ Nero almost wished he was bleeding out faster, ‘he turns himself into a demon, kicks my ass, and even that doesn’t get me out of the lecture.’
“To steal the Yamato of all things, don’t you understand what-” Credo’s voice cut off with a choked sound as the voice Nero most missed and least wanted to hear cried out in a panic.
“Nero!” Frantic footsteps raced towards them. Nero gurgled, trying to tell her to leave, to get somewhere safe, somewhere as far away as she could get.
“K- Kyrie…” was all he managed before he finally lost consciousness.
– – – – – – – – – –
Kyrie’s been having a rough day.
When the day started her worst fear was missing a note, or tripping onstage- as the day had worn on she had been afraid Nero would miss her whole performance, that he had decided it wasn’t important enough to show up to.
Then, the assassin appeared.
His Holiness was shot dead before her eyes. The man in red struck down a dozen holy knights like it was nothing, before setting his sights on Credo, then Nero. After the man escaped the demons started flooding in, and all her earlier fears suddenly seemed very small and far away. She’d been scared for her life before, scared for Credo and Nero’s lives, but never for hours with no end in sight, and never has she feared for all of Fortuna like this.
When Nero was charged with apprehending the assassin she put on a brave face, he would only be sad thinking he’d upset her somehow, or worse- he’d take her worry as doubt and start to doubt himself when he most needed his confidence.
Still, she was worried, so when the man in the trappings of a council member came to offer her the opportunity to check on Credo and Nero directly, she needed little convincing. The shelters were as safe as they could be, the wounded were being tended to, and the man promised the Knights on guard would see them both safely to her brother and his protege.
The journey there was safe enough, the headquarters were built to be defensible, after all. Disconcertingly, the man, Lord Agnus, didn’t seem inclined to talk. They walked in near silence, the solemn quiet only broken by their echoing footfalls and distant ocean waves. Kyrie found herself humming nervously, but at least none of their escorts seemed to mind. Lord Agnus briskly escorted her to a side room in the building’s lobby, claiming he would be back shortly and leaving Kyrie to her worries.
Though, as promised, not for long. She’d scarcely been alone for ten minutes when the sound of pitched combat began echoing through the building. The first exchange of blows had her scrambling to her feet. It was probably the knights taking out approaching demons, but Kyrie couldn’t settle, the distant shouts and clashes, mixed with the whine of electricity and ground-shaking crashes left her shaking and anxious.
Then, she began to notice something. Within the cacophony, she heard an unmistakable sound.
The rev of an engine.
Red Queen, which Nero had personally customized so there would be no other sword like it. Nero’s sword, which she had hand-delivered directly to him just hours ago.
She was at the door before she could think twice, running out of the room and towards the sounds that had frightened her only moments ago. She barely noticed Lord Agnus calling for her to wait as he trailed after her, she'd bolted out as quickly as her dress allowed.
Down the narrow bridge she went, as the battle grew steadily louder. The noise died with a final crash of rending stone, just as she passed through a small roofed sitting area.
Was that the end? Was the fight over? Kyrie crept out, achingly slowly.
She froze in her tracks before the circular viewing area on the bridge. The sight before her was one she had long dreaded.
The battle was indeed over.
Nero struggled on the ground (in the ground, she thought hysterically, looking at the crater he was at the center of) barely moving, surrounded by a steadily growing pool of blood and being loomed over by a feathered demon wielding a massive blade. She felt her breath catch in her throat as it turned toward her.
She wanted to run, but if she did… What would happen to Nero?
Nero was helpless. No one else was around. If she ran and it didn’t decide to chase her, then Nero would die.
Nero would die.
Her panic took a backseat as she practically flew forward.
“Nero!” Kyrie heard him wheeze something as she reached him, throwing herself over his body, shielding him as best she could. He had protected her the same way when his arm was injured, he had always protected her- and even though this probably wouldn’t block the blow that was coming she had to try, she couldn’t stand the thought of him dying! Gently, she cradled his head, clamping her eyes shut- Savior there was so much blood-!
There was no attack.
She waited. Nothing. She waited slightly longer, heart hummingbird fast and body braced for pain, but still no blow fell. She didn’t even hear movement.
“Kyrie-” It knew her? How on Earth did a demon know her name? Its voice echoed strangely. Familiar, but where would she have heard it before?
She looked up out of sheer confusion, panicked tears starting to well up, as she craned her neck up to look into the eyes of the demon. Its face was expressionless, but it wasn’t attacking, so maybe…? She sent a swift prayer to Lord Sparda and spoke up.
“Please. P-please don’t hurt him anymore.” She found herself pleading. “The fight- it’s, the fight is over, you’ve won, so please-!” The demon stared, unmoving, face still as stone as it towered over her.
Suddenly it took a single step back, and before her eyes it did something so bewildering that she hadn’t even considered it could happen.
It turned into her brother.
Kyrie couldn’t make sense of it. She felt her heart beating even faster somehow. She tried to speak but her words died in her throat. Credo stepped closer again, hands held out placatingly, but she couldn’t trust that, she couldn’t! So she shuffled back as well as she could while clutching Nero; limp in her arms, deadweight- she felt sick.
Her older brother who bandaged their cuts and played Princess with her? Her older brother who taught Nero to fight had just decided to beat Nero half to death?
That couldn’t really be her brother, no way, he wouldn’t- it was a demonic trick, it had to be!
A sword was brought down between them before the imposter could get any closer.
“Lord Agnus…?” Surprised, she looked up at him as he crouched protectively over her and Nero, massive broadsword acting as a shield.
“Keep steady pressure on his wound, young lady. It was our intention to protect you from this truth, but Credo has become a demon.” At his reminder, Kyrie scrambled to press against the bloody gash on Nero’s back even as she reeled in shock. That was impossible- but, why would the man lie?
Still, lying or not, if there was the smallest chance this was Credo she had to ask. If it wasn’t him, this wouldn’t mean anything, but if it was…
“Agnus, how dare you-!”
“Whether you’re truly a demon or not… Credo, how could you?” Kyrie forced the words out even as she peered past the sword before them, trying to meet his eyes. “Credo, if- if that really is you, how could you do this to Nero?”
Credo reeled back as though she’d struck him, but firmed his resolve, meeting Lord Agnus’ gaze with a sharp glare and his usual unshakable poise.
He looked like her brother, sounded like her brother, he even reacted like her brother, but could it actually be him? And if so, how?
“Agnus, I’ve placed my subordinate under arrest. Why have you brought my sister here- How dare you involve her in this!?” He stepped toward them. What on earth was Nero being arrested for? Lord Agnus drew his sword from the ground, turning the blade so the edge pressed against Kyrie’s neck. She froze.
“In all honesty, his Holiness anticipated you failing, and ordered your sister to be utilized.”
‘What?’ Thought Kyrie.
“What…?” Hissed Credo.
Nero continued to bleed.
“You appear to have succeeded, most impressive! But that cannot change what has already been set in motion.” A blinding flash was the last thing Kyrie saw, and the last thing she heard was the whipping wind.
— — — — — — — — —
Credo is having an awful day, maybe the worst he’s ever had.
The interruption of the Festival of the Sword, the attack and murder of his Holiness, the Revival of his Holiness, dealing with Agnus accusing Nero of not only possessing demonic power, but stealing Yamato after somehow repairing the broken blade. And then his Holiness had actually believed Agnus over Credo, the boy’s direct Superior, ordering him to apprehend Nero and reclaim Yamato.
And then Agnus turned out to be right.
Yes, Agnus had turned out to be right and Nero had somehow gotten himself infected with demonic power- perhaps his arm had been injured worse than anticipated and he had turned to unsavory means to fix it? Perhaps he had been poisoned by something? Perhaps Agnus himself was to blame. However he’d managed to do it, Nero was using demonic power. Credo could tell as soon as he got close to the boy, it was everywhere.
Credo knew full well the threat that represented, though Nero seemed ignorant of it, carelessly bringing danger to himself and others.
Bringing danger to Kyrie, and that was something Credo could not allow.
His Holiness had ordered Nero to be apprehended, not exterminated, so surely that meant he had a plan to fix the mess his young protege had gotten into.
Unfortunately, Nero was never one to come along quietly, and always one to talk back.
Having the audacity to tell Credo of all people to back down, lest he get hurt.
Credo feels Nero is naturally talented at a few things in particular. Swordplay is one, the swiftness with which he picks up new moves and incorporates them into his fighting style is exceptional. Credo wishes it spoke more to his talent as a teacher than to Nero’s natural ability, though he knows it doesn’t.
Weaponsmithing is another, both Red Queen and Blue Rose are a feat of skill, both to have created and to wield, even accounting for the Order’s distaste for guns. Each weapon is so finicky that Nero is the only one that can wrangle them, which he does to spectacular effect.
Though, Nero’s relevant specialty was getting on Credo’s last nerve at the worst possible time.
Credo had chastised Nero for his temper for years. Anger clouds the mind, a greater enemy to rationale and a greater threat to victory than any other. Credo has taught Nero this because it was a lesson that Credo had to be taught throughout his youth. He considers that maybe Nero has forgotten that. He decides to refresh Nero’s recollection.
Before he even realizes he’s committed to it, Credo is locked in combat, full angelic form brought to bear, spears raining and blade swift. The battle does not last long, but it is gruelling, demanding his utmost efforts not to be swept away by the sword-swipes that crash against his shield like waves.
Nero is talented at swordplay, indeed, but Supreme General is no empty title, and Credo is the youngest to ever hold the position.
He wears Nero down, commanding the arena, until Nero’s swipes begin to lag and his dodges get sloppy (he’s warned him about this in training…) Credo waits until he slows just slightly to strike with Red Queen, the blade is parried off his shield, and countered-
And he brings Nero down.
The blow rings in Credo’s head like the sound of a judge’s gavel. There’s the harsh scraping of metal on stone, flesh trapped between, the discharge of electricity, and Nero wheezes where he lands, face first in the center of a stone crater (had he hit him that hard?)
Credo approaches him, swiftly regaining his equilibrium, announcing he’s taking Nero into custody. Nero, defiant to the last, calls him a monster. Calls them both monsters, so at least he’s aware of what he’s become, even as he misidentifies Credo as a demon again.
‘But aren’t you?’ Whispers the traitorous little voice in his head, ‘What kind of angel does this to their brother Protege?’
He shakes off his doubts as he always has, standing tall. This is to keep Fortuna safe. To keep Kyrie safe. For a better world, and hopefully to help even Nero himself. Credo steadies, trying to reign himself in, but the day has already heavily worn on his temper.
Why hadn’t Nero just come to him with this in the first place? Hadn’t he trusted Credo? They could have fixed this, could have healed him and everything would have been fine, but Nero had impulsively taken matters into his own hands, stolen the Yamato, and Credo had been commanded to- to-
To beat him into the ground, and take him into custody. His own foster brother. And he did. Without question.
Credo chokes on air before his tirade can even build up steam as footsteps approach. Very familiar footsteps. His head snaps toward the source of the noise and Credo feels his heart stop.
“Nero!”
‘Ah. They didn’t warn me that angels could have heart attacks.’ He thinks foolishly, as he watches Kyrie, innocent Kyrie, skid to her knees (She had made sure that dress was spotless this morning…) before Nero and shield him with her body. He goes on alert at the sight of her fear and looks frantically around for danger, before realizing.
‘Ah. It’s me.’
He feels as he says her name, though his lips in this form do not move, feeling oddly disconnected from himself. It’s as though he’s watching his body watching her look up at him, begging him to stop hurting Nero, the boy she’d loved for years.
Something in his chest goes cold with shame, because it’s his fault she’s afraid like this. Hadn’t he sworn to protect her? Protect them both? He never wanted to see that look of stark terror on her face, much less be the cause of it. He hates to see her cry.
He drops out of his angelic (is it really? When it puts that look on his baby sister’s face?) guise and her look warps from terror to horror. She scrambles to get away from him.
And then Agnus, damn him, is there spinning lies to her even as he plays at being a bulwark against the threat, against Credo (But are they truly lies? Does he know for certain? No, they must be lies.)
Kyrie simply asking “how could you,” hits the heart of him swifter than any knife.
Nero was right. Angel or demon, in this moment he feels like a monster.
And then, the truth of it all- his Holiness expected him to fail and Kyrie was dragged here as little more than bait, he can’t believe this–
Except that he can, and he does. It’s a plot and he can see the shape of it. Kyrie to capture Nero who has the Yamato which is bait for Dante. They knew Credo would never have agreed to this.
To send someone else to retrieve Yamato if Credo had indeed failed would be one thing, but to use his baby sister who knew nothing of demons or angels… is unforgivable.
Agnus transforms into that strange insectoid form of his and takes hold of Nero and Kyrie, both unconscious and dangling like ragdolls as they’re dragged away. Credo strides forward and draws on his power as his transformation washes over him, focused on getting his siblings away from that bastard, even if he can’t make up for this mess he can at least see them to safety and figure things out after–
And there is a crippling pain in his back.
Groping blindly behind him he pulls out one of Agnus’ experiments, a Gladius. Dragging the blade out, he goes breathless with agony as his arm- no, wing– goes entirely limp, dangling uselessly; likely hanging on by no more than strands of flesh and feather-like scales.
“Agnus you-! Fighting with such- cowardice!” Credo all but sees red as Agnus lifts out of reach entirely.
“Credo you honor-bound fool, only you would call tactics mere cowardice.” Agnus turns to go, as Credo recoils on the ground. “Consider this, if one cannot beat their enemy head-on what does one do? Retreat to where the enemy cannot follow? Employ a knife in the back once they are sufficiently distracted?” He can hear the smugness in Agnus’ oddly buzzing voice even as it grows distant. “In my own opinion, a wise man should do both to better his odds, and I haven’t yet been called a fool.”
“AGNUS-!” Credo roars out behind him, wing limp, feathers fluttering behind him in the wind.
— — — — — — — — —