Hell was a never-ending nightmare of blood, fire, and screams—but to Liam, it was just background noise. He had been fighting for what felt like days, cutting down demons with no end in sight. Rage and regret clouded his mind.
His once-dark hair had turned almost entirely white, now long and unruly—almost resembling Dante's. Maybe it was a side effect of his awakening demonic power. Or maybe Hell was just twisting him further. Either way, he didn't care. He kept moving forward, slashing, tearing, and burning through anything that stood in his way.
Sparda's voice echoed in his mind, dripping with amusement.
"I gotta say, kid, the new look suits you. But I hope you're not expecting child support, 'cause you can go fuck yourself."
Liam gritted his teeth, driving Orabos' gauntlets through a hulking demon's chest. He flipped backward and opened fire with Satanus and Blaze, his twin pistols. The demon dropped in a heap, its corpse melting into the scorched ground.
"Sparda, shut the hell up."
"Oh, come on, lighten up. You're stomping through Hell, covered in blood, with no goal in sight. The least I can do is add some commentary. Speaking of which, is that your period blood?"
Liam snarled, cracking his neck as another wave of demons approached.
"This isn't the time for jokes."
"It's Hell, kid. No AC, no entertainment, just screaming and fire. I'm just trying to cool the mood a little."
Exhaling sharply, Liam tightened his grip on his new weapon—Cerberus' reborn form. The three-headed flail gleamed with energy, shifting between fire, ice, and lightning as he spun it in his hands.
A group of demons charged, snarling and drooling. Liam didn't hesitate. He flicked his wrist, sending the ice-infused chain whipping through the air. One demon froze solid—then shattered with a brutal kick. In a smooth motion, he switched to fire mode, swinging in a wide arc and scorching another wave. A massive, four-armed brute lunged at him. Liam launched himself into the air and brought down the lightning-charged chain like a hammer. Sparks exploded through the demon's body before it disintegrated into ash.
He landed with ease, twirling Cerberus before snapping it back into a compact staff. More demons poured in. Liam didn't stop. He rushed forward—shattering skulls with Orabos' gauntlets, firing off precise shots from Satanus and Blaze, and slicing through flesh with the Sparda blade whenever they got too close. His body moved on instinct. His rage fueled every strike.
Eventually, after what felt like another endless wave, Liam stood before the mouth of a cave. The air around it pulsed with ancient, unfamiliar energy. He narrowed his eyes.
"That's new."
Sparda's voice hummed again.
"Feeling brave, are we? I can already tell something nasty's waiting inside. Maybe it'll kill you, and I can finally get some peace."
Liam ignored him and stepped inside.
The cave stretched into a long, dark hallway, its walls etched with carvings of ancient demonic battles. At the end sat a figure on a throne-like stone. One leg draped lazily over the other. Crimson eyes glowed in the dim light. Obsidian skin. Intricate markings. The demon's presence was suffocating.
The figure looked up, locking eyes with Liam. His voice rumbled like an earthquake.
"Who dares enter the realm of Rakkar, the Shadow Tyrant?"
Liam smirked.
"Your realm? Buddy, this is a cave. If your evil lair is just a hole in the ground, you're basically a weeb in his mom's basement. Up your game."
Rakkar's eye twitched. He stood slowly, energy flaring around him as he summoned a pack of snarling demons.
"You have a sharp tongue, mortal. Let's see if you can still talk once your body is in pieces."
Liam twirled Cerberus, grinning.
"Sounds like a good distraction to me."
Rakkar cracked his neck.
"You've got a mouth on you, boy. Let's see if you can still run it when you're choking on your own blood."
With a wave of his clawed hand, the demons lunged.
Liam lashed out with Cerberus, ice and fire exploding on contact. One demon erupted into gore; another turned to ash.
"C'mon, Rakkar, this is embarrassing. I've had tougher fights with my morning coffee."
Rakkar snarled and formed a jagged blade from pure energy, dashing forward. Liam barely dodged—his cheek nicked as the sword carved a deep scar into the wall.
"Whoa, easy there, champ. You almost ruined my good looks."
He ducked low and slammed Orabos into Rakkar's gut, sending him skidding back.
Sparda chuckled.
"That's my boy. Beat him like he owes you money."
Rakkar wiped blood from his lip, grinning.
"You're more trouble than I thought. Let's up the stakes."
The ground shook as a massive, horned demon clawed its way out of the stone. It towered over Liam, molten eyes locked on him.
"Big, ugly, and probably smells like a sewer. Great."
Liam reached for the chain around his neck, yanking it. The Sparda blade materialized with a hum. In one fluid motion, he dashed forward and sliced the demon cleanly in half. The beast collapsed in a pile of smoldering remains.
Before Rakkar could react, Liam was in his face, pressing the blade to his throat.
"Well, that was underwhelming. Got anything else? Maybe a puppy I can put down next?"
Rakkar swiped wildly, but Liam danced around him.
"You're slow, man. Like, really slow. I should handicap myself just to be fair."
He vanished into the shadows, reappearing behind the demon.
"Too slow again."
Sparda laughed.
"You are absolutely wrecking this guy. I'm so proud."
Liam gave Rakkar no chance to recover. He drove Sparda through his chest. The demon gasped as the blade drained his essence.
"So, uh... what was that about me choking on my own blood?"
He twisted the blade.
"Guess you choked first. Sucks to suck, huh?"
Rakkar gurgled, trying to speak—but Liam yanked the blade free. The demon crumpled. Sparda whistled.
"Damn, kid. That was cold."
Liam stretched, stepping over the body.
"Talked a big game. Folded like wet paper. Alright—who's next?"
But then the ground cracked.
Rakkar's energy spiked. His body twitched.
"I'm... immortal..." he wheezed, barely audible.
Liam looked down, unimpressed.
"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one before."
He drew Chantinelle, the blade morphing into a whip. With a single, fluid strike, he cracked it across Rakkar's skull. The demon collapsed for good. The whip returned to sword form.
Sparda's voice echoed with pride.
"Damn, kid. You're making me proud."
From Rakkar's remains, the demonic energy surged. The ground split open, reshaping that power into a weapon. A katana.
It was sleek, jagged, and alive with chaos. The guard was horned, the leather-wrapped hilt pulsing with malevolence. It glowed faintly red—still soaked in its master's essence.
Liam stepped forward and gripped the hilt. Power flooded into him. Violent, dark, and hungry. The blade aligned with him instantly. It knew its master.
He grinned.
Swinging the katana through the air, he felt its deadly precision. Shadows bent to its will. On instinct, he focused—and vanished, reappearing behind a demon with a single, deadly strike.
"Now this is a game-changer," he muttered.
Sparda's voice came again.
"You're making good use of it, kid. This weapon's more than just a blade—use it wisely."
"I'm already having fun," Liam whispered.
He vanished again—reappearing behind another demon and slicing through it like smoke. He moved like a shadow himself, teleporting with each swing, slaughtering demons faster than they could blink.
The katana thrived on blood and motion.
When the last demon fell, Liam stood in the silence, breathing heavily. The adrenaline still rushed through him.
Sparda spoke once more, serious now.
"Don't you think it's time to go back? It's been a week."
Liam froze. He hadn't realized how much time had passed.
"What?" he whispered, confused.
"Go back where?"
His grip tightened around the katana. For the first time in days... he hesitated.