[The one thing Dante has gained a better understanding of as his turns round the sun began to rack up is that nothing in life is ever simple. The shades of grey outnumber black and white and the contradictions are laughably commonplace. The fact that he over Vergil inherited their father's power and stepped oh-so-reluctantly into Sparda's shoes is a cruel cosmic joke as far as he's concerned; even his 'retirement' is short-lived now he's been brought on this journey with his family to Etraya and beyond. The fact that they're facing a room full of Fae instead of a horde of demons is neither here nor there.

There's innocent people here, and if it's the Fae's intent to harm them then they're going to get a taste of Dante's eponymous devil sword right between the teeth. Even though he feels naked without the weight of Ebony and Ivory strapped to his person, he can feel his sword within him, thrumming impatiently as if it knows it might soon be needed. It's still a novel feeling, knowing that his own power can manifest itself into something more, forged of the two blades that had honed him into becoming the weapon he is today and his own tempered strength.

It's also a pretty convenient way of hiding a weapon to get around the iron ban.

Wait, is he manifesting his devil sword from the iron in his blood? That'd be pretty dope- no. Focus.

He rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, looking for all the world that he's ready for a fight.]

It's not about what I want to do. It's what I've gotta do if it comes down to it, you know that.

[But he shoots his brother a sidelong glance, the promise of a challenge gleaming in his eyes.]

You feeling up to it?