Published: 26/01/2023

Last Updated: 28/01/2023


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An Introduction

In late 2021, after a long, long questioning process, I finally stumbled upon myself. When I look back at my past 'kintypes': dragons, demons, fictional characters with similar personality and backstory, it all makes a lot of sense. I didn't know about Devil May Cry until I saw Vergil listed on a list of well-known Virgils, a list I was looking at out of curiosity after I changed my own name to Virgil. I've been interested in Dante's Inferno since I read it at 14 years old, and I always saw myself in the fictionalised version of the poet Virgil featured in the book. I was immediately drawn to this game's version from his Wikipedia page alone, and I thought the concept for the story was extremely interesting and perfect for me. After playing the third game, the first one chronologically, I felt as if I was looking at myself; I couldn't shake the emotions I felt when he was on screen and when he spoke. It was a strange feeling, one I had only felt while looking at tigers, but it felt comforting and right at the same time. I questioned for a while longer, finishing the main series of games and taking a break to reflect away from the source material, and the feelings never went away. It felt natural to call myself him, to recognise that I'd been him for a long time before I discovered the games.

I have been noting down things I recall in a document that's grown to 34 pages long, the information below is everything I feel comfortable sharing, rewritten to be easier to parse, and with basic parts of source canon added in for those unfamiliar with it.

So, here's my memoir, it's a perpetual work in progress because the memories have to be slowly pieced together, but it is nice to have somewhere to share everything. I've separated it into timeframes based on the games, the years are my best guess in terms of source material and my own gut feeling. A lot of information here is not canon to the series, just what I know myself. I'm unsure where my noemata comes from, and whether my identity is spiritual or psychological, but I am not interested in finding canonmates, otherwise I would be more guarded about this account of my life.

I forewarn you, reader, that some parts of this recount may be triggering or otherwise upsetting. Particularly in regards to parental death, homelessness, self-injury, torture, and suicidal ideation. I've been as brief as possible for both my own comfort and yours, but still, tread carefully.


Pre-DMC3 (1973-1981)

I can't remember my birthday, but from what I've figured out from the timeline, it was likely sometime in 1973. I was born first, a few hours before Dante. I definitely used that one in my favour many times. I was raised on the outskirts of Red Grave City, in a house with a little bit of land backing off into woodland. I spent most of my early childhood at home with my mother, father, and brother.

In my early years, my relationship with my family was pretty good for the most part: my parents were more than anyone could ask for, always around, and I loved them even if I struggled to show or reciprocate it. I remember that my mother would often read to me until I learnt how to read and took over the reading myself, either to read alone or to her. My father would teach Dante and I swordsmanship, we would regularly spar together from a pretty young age. Father also gave me Yamato, but I can't remember when that was exactly, possibly a birthday. I would usually carry it with me when I left the house.


Dante and I were sort-of close as children, we were pretty tolerant of each other at least. We play-fought, and bickered, as most siblings tend to do. We were always very different, too different to find much common ground or interests, but I believe we liked and respected each other. I was quiet and preferred to be alone with my books, while he was brash and always wanted to play or brawl. Dante liked to take my books in order to coax me into fighting him to get them back. I don't think he did this maliciously, it was just his way of getting my attention, but it did tick me off back then.

We were often forced to entertain each other, since we were raised at home with sparse visits to the main city. I assume this isolation was due to our parents not knowing what two half-devils would be like growing up around unaware human children. I didn't have many, if any, consistent friends, and I struggled to socialise with the few children my age I was introduced to. I didn't see much of a point in friendships, people were extremely hard for me to understand and relate to.

I have a few good memories with my brother that stick out to me. I was plagued with night terrors throughout my childhood, and often woke up screaming or otherwise distraught. I shared a room with Dante, so if my parents failed to hear me, he would make sure I was okay. He would climb into my bed and comfort me until I calmed down. We never mentioned it in the morning, or ever, but I appreciated and remembered the gesture.


I often visited a man, an ex-teacher and family friend, to discuss literature and my studies. My mother introduced me to him as she wanted me to be able to have an extra challenge academically, as well as a friend of sorts. He kindled my interest in WIlliam Blake's poetry and artwork, as well as literature in general, and gave me the poetry book I held dear. It was hand-made, the illustrations copied with coloured pencil and the poems handwritten. I signed it with my name, a "V" on the cover, because Dante always stole my things. I often carried this book everywhere with me, but lost it before the attack, picking it up again as V just over thirty years later.


On my eighth birthday, my mother gave me half of the perfect amulet, the key my father used to seal the Temen-ni-gru, which will be important later. Dante got the other half. Our mother said something about how we were two halves of a whole.

Around this time, my father disappeared. Sometimes he would leave for extended periods of time for business reasons, or to catch up with old friends, so it wasn't completely out of character, but we became very worried about his whereabouts.


I don't remember much of the demon attack, but I'm not surprised that my mind deleted most of it. It was sometime between my eighth and ninth birthdays, I recall playing at the playground near the house when I was ambushed by a group of demons and was stabbed in the chest, presumably with my own sword. I devil triggered for the first time shortly after, blacking out as the surge of power was too much for my body to handle. Once I came to all of the demons had been obliterated. I went looking for my mother, hoping she was nearby to help me. I don't clearly know what happened afterwards, I just remember sprinting through the forest away from the house with my throat feeling tight like I was about to cry.

I assumed my mother and brother were dead, and my father either was too or had abandoned us. I wished I could have also been killed or I was strong enough to be able to have prevented it from happening at all. I began to feel extreme guilt and self-hatred over this event for pretty much the rest of my life. A lot of this hatred was directed at my humanity, as I was half human, and I believed it was holding me back and making me weak.

I wandered into the city and lived on the streets. I didn't want to summon help, I don't really think I knew how either. I slept rough in parks, shelters when I could afford it or if they'd take me, and anywhere with some sort of cover from the elements. I stole food when I needed to, and just tried my best to survive. My half-devil body came with the advantage that I could brave much worse conditions than a human boy my age could ever have. I received offers of help from kind strangers who took pity on me, but I never accepted anything more than a meal or some money. I found it difficult to trust anyone, as I had a feeling the demons that attacked the house would be looking for me, and I was in no state to reliably protect myself. It was a very lonely few years, especially when I believed my mother, father, and brother were all dead or had abandoned me. I remember many a cold night where I was curled up somewhere questioning why I was even putting myself through this, and why I couldn't just use my sword and put an end to it.

I spent a lot of time in the library trying to fill my time, educate myself, and find distractions. I attended a local gym to work out and shower. I also spent time away from the city to train myself with Yamato and hone my devil trigger and demonic abilities away from others. As I got older and stronger, I began to turn to more violent methods of getting money and food, mainly muggings. I would use a fake ID to get into bars and clubs and flirt with women and men in hopes of having a warm bed that night, or a wallet to steal. In the library, I pored over books on demons, legends, and the occult, searching for anything that could get me out of my situation.


Fortuna (1990-1991)

When I was eighteen years old, I travelled to Fortuna to study The Order of The Sword and access their archives and libraries. I met Catarina in those archives.

Note: I'm only slightly certain of this name, but it seems better to me than just calling her "Nero's Mother". Catarina is the woman I met during my trip to Fortuna, and the woman who's most likely the mother of my son, Nero.

She was a human woman, older than me, I'd guess early twenties but I didn't ask. She worked at the archives, and helped me to locate records on certain topics I was seeking. We spoke a little, I mentioned that I had travelled here for research and was struggling with funds, she asked if I had a place to stay and then offered me her spare room since she lived within walking distance. I hesitated a little, but obliged. It was nice to have a roof over my head, a bed, and warm meals again.


I remember sitting at her dining table, completely unsure of myself. We had a small meal together with minimal conversation and then she showed me to her guest room. The bed was on the small side but it was much better than nothing at all.

During the next few days I walked with her to work and helped to set up before resuming my own research work. We chatted, and I became rather close and comfortable with her. I found her very attractive, and I quickly began to fall in love. It was a strange feeling, as I had not desired a close relationship before this nor felt what I would consider true attraction, in the past I would sleep or flirt with others and feel empty more than anything. I got nervous and flustered around her, which was an odd change in character, having a crush like this, but a rather cute one looking back. I remember my heart beating harder, stumbling over my words, and my face becoming warm when she spoke to me or touched me.

I'm unsure who confessed first, but I made her aware that I had developed feelings for her which were requited. I took a short break from my research to spend time with her on her days off, and I moved from the spare bedroom into her bed at night.


Eventually I told her of my devil heritage, not outwardly saying who my father was but she probably put two and two together. She was much more receptive to the news than an average human probably would have been, she said she found every part of me beautiful, and she felt inexplicably drawn to me from the moment she saw me. I remember devil triggering in front of her. It was the first time I ever showed a human my form in a casual manner, it was a surprisingly intimate experience. She touched my scales and plates and ran her hand across my horns, probably to see if they were real or not. The touches turned into pretty heavy petting which was reciprocated by me and then, well, you can guess.

I remember one moment very fondly: she had fallen asleep with her head resting on my chest. I was awake as I didn't need to sleep very often. While I looked at her, I realised this was probably the first time I felt truly safe and happy in a long time. I smiled to myself, buried my face in her hair, and closed my eyes. I felt rested and calm for once when I awoke.


We were together for a few weeks, perhaps a month. Then I came to my senses in a way. I was acutely aware of demons coming after me, and I didn't want her to be wrapped up in that. I knew I was still very young and I'd never forgive myself if I stood by and let her get attacked by demons targeting me, what happened with my mother and brother was bothering me very badly still. I broke it off, and packed up and left the island entirely. I wanted to come back and find her, but I felt too guilty. I wasn't aware she was pregnant at the time, I'm not sure what I would have done differently if I did know.

I never took another mate: I never felt the same way about anybody again. I considered her my only true partner, even if I tried to repress the feelings afterwards to focus on my other ambitions. Later, I deeply regretted throwing it all away like that, especially since it meant I never got to raise my own son.


DMC3 Manga (1991-1992)

I returned to the city. Soon afterwards, I was approached by Arkham in the library. He explained his plans to raise the Temen-ni-gru, the tower sealed by my father to close the link between the human and demon world. To break the seals and open the portal to the demon world, we needed to return the names of the Seven Sin demons, defeat the various gatekeepers, and use the blood of a priestess (Arkham's daughter, Mary), the blood of Sparda (Dante's or mine), and the complete perfect amulet, which was the key. I was interested in the proposal, solely because it would give me a chance to become an even more powerful devil if I could enter the demon world and defeat Mundus or his henchmen. I wasn't remotely interested in working for Arkham's benefit.

I stayed in his mansion, mostly because I had nowhere better to be. I read from his collection and begrudgingly listened to his plans and ramblings if he came to speak to me.

While walking through the city, I was mistaken for Dante by who I assume was one of his friends. I was surprised, but a little delighted, to hear that he was still around. I needed him for the plans, but I was also interested to see what he had grown up to be.

Arkham showed me to the Seven Sins and I returned their names to them one by one.

I reunited with Dante, though it was far from heartwarming. I told him my plans and we fought. I took his half of the amulet, but gave it back, claiming I could take it anytime I wanted. We went our seperate ways, and for the next year I finalised my preparations in breaking the seals.


DMC3 (1992)

I haven't written notes for this yet, as there isn't much that deviates from the source material, but if you're unfamiliar with the plot, here is the wiki page.

In summary, I managed to raise the Temen-ni-gru and, after a battle with my brother, fell into the demon world. Here, I attempted to challenge Mundus, a ruler of the demon world, in battle.

Pre-DMC1 & DMC1 (1992-2001)

Due to my weakened state, I lost to Mundus and was held captive and tortured continuously for almost a decade because I refused to give in. It was seeing my mother's amulet and the emotions that came with that that eventually broke my resolve. My brain blocked out a large part of this experience, so I have very scattered noemata regarding it, and I find the source material around it extremely upsetting so I do not want to fill in the gaps here. What I do know is events that came back to me through nightmares, flashbacks, and similar experiences after I escaped from him.

After my defence broke, he was able to gain control of my mind and autonomy and turned me into the knight Nero Angelo. I remember very little in terms of clear memories of my time as the Knight. One thing that does stick out to me is after seeing Dante's amulet I took out my own, stared at it in my hand, and began to weep under the helmet. I didn't understand why I was crying or what that amulet truly meant to me, but my heart felt extremely heavy and I knew deep down it was important to me somehow.


Pre-DMC5 (2010-April 2015)

After I broke free from Mundus I wandered the island until I found my way out. I had both literal nightmares and demonic manifestations following me. I was stuck there for a few years, my body and mind breaking down from the years of neglect and abuse.

I found my way to Fortuna and located Yamato. I wasn't aware I had taken it from Nero, I was so desperate and out of it that I didn't really have much control over what I did. Though that is no excuse. I took Yamato and used its portal-opening capabilities to return to the charred ruins of my childhood home. I stabbed myself in the chest with Yamato and separated my human form from my deteriorating body, mostly as a last resort than any carefully calculated plan. I was trying my chances, since I would have died regardless, but luckily it worked.


DMC5 (April 2015-June 2015)

This is pretty close to the source again, I will write something up when I have the mind to. Here are the wiki pages for the game and the manga.

What you need to know is that by separating the two halfs of me, I split into V, the human side, and Urizen, the demon side. As Urizen, I became a demon king and sought to cultivate and consume the Qliphoth fruit to become as powerful of a demon as possible. As V, I sought Dante's assistance to defeat Urizen. Urizen was eventually brought down by Dante, and re-merged with V to become myself again. After two battles with my son and my brother, I ventured into the underworld with Dante to cut down the roots of the Qliphoth tree and put an end to what I did as Urizen.

V


Vergil


Post-DMC5 (2015-)

I remember nothing of being Urizen, since all of my memories were kept in V and when we merged I didn't share any new ones with him. Urizen faded out of existence except for what the others told me about him, along with V's memories of him. V stuck around in me, I'm not sure in what way exactly but I usually felt his presence and on occasion he would speak to me in my mind. It was frightening to share my body with someone who was essentially a stranger to me, but he was helpful and a calming presence for the most part.

I readjusted to my body and began to slowly reintegrate into society. It was a little like waking up after an extremely long coma: I hadn't been completely lucid since the early nineties, so I had twenty years to properly catch up on. It was very, very distressing to think of the time I lost to Mundus. I saw someone old and unfamiliar when I looked in the mirror, well-known news of the world from decades ago was completely new to me, pop culture had changed (well, I wasn't really following it anyway), technology had advanced, the world had changed. It was a lot to take in and I don't think I ever fully wrapped my head around it all.

With V's guidance, I began to attempt to right my wrongs and find love for my humanity once again. It was difficult, but I was surrounded by those who loved me and wanted this for me. I made peace with the emotions I'd buried for so long under the guise of defeating weakness and for a while I did almost nothing but cry, like my body was releasing decades of unexpressed pain all at once. I hated it, I never fully got over the belief that emotions were an undesirable sign of weakness and a waste of time, but for once I let myself feel them.


It didn't immediately go back to normal when we went back to usual life, I was not warmly welcomed back with open arms, and I was not forgiven or even properly trusted at first. Which didn't surprise me. I had learnt a lot from what happened to me after the events of DMC3 and my whole time as V, I had a whole lot to regret and repent for, and I had things I wanted to work through.

I stuck around and fumbled through trying to have a normal family relationship again. Me and Dante had never hated each other, we just had conflicting views and got in each other's way all of the time, which led to our fights, and once we butted heads less severely and without as many weapons we got along like normal siblings, albeit awkwardly at first. It was nice to have him back properly, the last time we had really talked and were comfortable with one another was when we were children. He welcomed me back properly after a week, maybe a few days, I can't recall exactly what was said though.


Nero took a lot longer to come around, unsurprisingly, it did hurt but I had definitely hurt him more than his words could. I apologised a lot, and I did try my hardest to make it up to him, and give as much of an honest explanation as I could. I remember once instance where he said something that struck a nerve, I can't remember what, and Dante told him to go easier on me. He stormed off and I sat there in silence, Dante lingered for a few moments and then left me alone.

I can't remember if it was months or even years later but Nero did grow to tolerate, maybe even like, me. He always called me by my first name, or he called me father sarcastically as an insult, but I remember once he genuinely called me Dad and it meant enough to me that I still think about it now. I remember one time he came to me to ask about his mother, and I talked about how even though my time with her was very short I had never forgotten her and how I genuinely felt adoration for her, and he seemed pleased with that answer. We read my poetry book together once, it was late at night and I was flicking through it; he came over and sat right next to me to read quietly along, and began pointing out a few poems and lines he had enjoyed when he read it after I gave it to him.


Unsorted + Miscellaneous Noemata


Name: Vergil, birthname Vergilius but that was hardly ever used.

Age: Varies, self-perception tends to default to 18-19 and mid 40's (DMC3 and DMC5 respectively), but there isn't much of a noticeable difference in behaviour. I also like to track my age in real time instead of sticking to the most recent game: I was born sometime in 1973, so am around 50.

Gender: Agender, I use masculine and neutral descriptors for myself.

Species: Half-devil, draconic. I tend to call myself a dragon rather than a devil in 'kin spaces due to more shared experiences and the label being more comfortable.