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I cannot stand to think of it, really. It sickens me that human blood flows through my veins. It is a weakness, and nothing more. A weakness that I do not know how to cope with… My human side… it has always been in the way, it has always made me weaker. Humanity is what has always stood between me and true power, and yet Dante could never seem to understand my hatred of it. I did spell out the reasons uncountable times but he always retorted with something imbecilic and unrelated, something you would expect from my fool of a brother.I am stiff and rigid, I know that. I have always been that way, as long as I remember, even as a child. Dante is different… He… he is simply not similar to me in the slightest, which is a relief. The mere fact that we are twins, I frequently find it hard to comprehend. Our similarities are but skin-deep, after all. I could never stand to be like him though, sloppy, careless and indifferent. Being calm, cool and collected, like me, it leaves a better impression, without question. Not that I am too bothered with what impression I leave on people. Then there is the fact that Dante does not seem to mind that his immaculate demon blood mingles with pestered human blood. Rather than reject his human side, like I, he embraces it without slightest hesitation. I will certainly never understand why. Not even now… Yet, sometimes, I feel like Dante derives certain strength from the fact that he is not fully a demon. It is as if he would have turned that damn human weakness into an advantage. I will, for certain, never understand it. It is similar to the fact that Dante always seems to feel at peace everywhere. Whether it is at his home or somewhere else, it does not seem to matter. I wonder why? Is it just his personality? But we share the same genes and upbringing, so how could it be?Anyhow, I unlike Dante have never felt at home, never been able to settle down anywhere. I am always looking for something more, never settling… maybe that is where I have gone wrong?In fact I cannot even recall a time when I felt at peace with myself, felt like I have belonged; apart from in my childhood. Thinking back at it now there is a human I never did hate, I never quite despised my mother. But she was fragile, so fragile. She broke so easily, disappeared so quickly. Humans are only temporal, they do not last like I do, they are simply not as durable as demons. They are weak, and so is the human part of me. Without power you cannot protect anyone, not yourself and not anyone else. I could not. I failed miserably at both tasks. I could not protect my mother, not my brother… I could not defeat Mundus… And, worst of all, I lost myself and almost ended up killing Dante in the process, which was never my intention. Not to kill him, not fully. I might despise him for so incautiously espousing humans and his humanity, but I would not wish death upon the only remaining individual of my family. But I do not like him, not in the slightest. It might seem as if I cared for Dante, and this might be true, but only now and only in my thoughts. Whenever we met in the past, however, all I could think of was the hatred I felt towards him. I loathe him, with passion. I resent his antics, sentiments and his convictions, and yet I cannot bring myself to end his life. I wonder why… I do not know… nor do I think I ever will… These emotions remain unexplored and uninteresting to me… I cannot be bothered….These reflections, too, are part of the weakness that haunts me… If I could I would destroy all thoughts like these and end my musing… The method of disposal though, yet remains unknown to me… It is indeed very unfortunate… I need more power… Power…And when Dante managed to take out Mundus… that is a day I truly only can look back at with bitterness. To linger upon the matter, unto this day, it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.I could not bear facing my brother after that. I would rather be presumed dead, as I have chosen to be since the day Nelo Angelo fell. Death…That suits me just fine. Hell is not pleasant, but maybe this is where I ought to be. In fact Hell does not seem too bad any longer, so it might actually be where I belong… What I still fail to grasp though, even up until this day, is how Dante, my useless twin, managed to defeat a demon of the strength of Mundus. I can picture Dante in front of me, sneering, telling me it is the human part of him. It sounds like something Dante would say…definitely… It truly sickens me … However, what sickens me more is the possibility of him being in the right… It not only sickens me, it terrifies me. This would mean all my efforts to gain power would have been in vain, and I refuse to accept that. I would rather be tortured - madly, harshly, relentlessly and mercilessly tortured - than even consider the possibility of humanity becoming an asset, a strength… This is the extent to which the truth scares me… It is truly pitiful… I am truly pitiful…To admit it appals me, and thus I do refrain from lingering upon the thought, but from time to time I think I might be jealous. Jealous of my brother. It is despicable, yes, but I am afraid it might be true, at least to a certain extent. I envy his ability to embrace and to accept, it made his life remarkably easier than mine, and that is what I begrudge. Invidia; there is no other word for it. I can only take refuge in the fact that Dante presumes me dead, thus I will never have to face this truth. Never have to confront him again… It is both a blessing and a curse, and I genuinely do not know which word describes my feelings better… When putting some thought into it the Demon World is perhaps not a suitable place for me after all. There is too little diversion, it makes me too sentimental, renders me weaker than ever before. There is nothing here to distract me, nothing at all, not even a book… Well, it is not entirely true, there are certain diversions. Demons. Demons who long for nothing more than to kill me, who want to see my blood spilled. However, they present me with no challenge, not since Mundus’s fall. They are not enough to quench my thirst. I long for them, books. I long for knowledge, new ways to gain power. Power to balance out my birth defect, my weakness, my humanity… It is a never-ending battle, and the possibility of losing is ever-present, always haunting my mind. I cannot accept my faults, my weakness, and perhaps that is my biggest shortcoming of them all… Perhaps one day I can admit it to myself… Maybe… But to be honest I find this very unlikely… After all, I am striving for perfection and humanity is a defect… It is all very simple, even a human child could reach the answer…
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I love life, and everything about it. Mostly. Sometimes things can be a bit shitty, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right? It’s as simple as that! And as long as there’s plenty of women, who can complain? Vergil would…He never gave a damn about women, only books, always those stupid books. Damn it, now I’m on about him again! It’s only the alcohol speaking though, so what does it really matter? Booze sure is amazing in that way, so fucking liberating! Hahaha, there’s always one excuse or another to get drunk, always! Vergil would disagree though. He’d probably spout some shit about how alcohol dulls your senses, making you more apt to become an easy target or something like that. That’s what he always went on about when we were younger, when he didn’t want me to drink. Man, I must’ve been such a bother at times. Then again so was he, a real pain in the ass, a royal bastard! That’s what he is… or was, at least. Vergil, he is… I wish he would have been more open. His determination to always make it on his own was amazing, but… it was his downfall. But I could never stick to anything like he did though, never. We might both have been stubborn, but in different ways. Always different…Everything was always such a struggle with him! Actually, I should be glad to be rid of him!Still, sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different. I wonder if I could have done something to prevent it; his death. Aargh, who am I kidding, everything went to hell already back when that jerk decided to fall. Fall down to Hell. So really, it’s Vergil’s own goddamn fault he’s dead! So stubborn! A perfectionist to a fault that’s what he is! Was…I hate his guts, I really do! But I never wished him dead, never wished to be the one to kill him… He’d hate me for that, if he was alive. But I guess that’s kinda paradoxical to say. It’s worst by far though, the fact that he had to die by my hand… I feel guilty even though I shouldn’t…or should I? If he just wouldn’t have become so megalomaniac…I wonder when it was he flipped out.Maybe it was the moment mum died, at last that’s when his hatred for humans grew tremendously. That’s when he got so…difficult. Training, reading, training, reading, training, reading…that was his life. No wonder I turned to alcohol at times, there was not much else to do if I wanted some entertainment. Vergil just wouldn’t do anything else than strive after more and more power, and if he ever did anything else he didn’t have time for me at least. He used to though, when we were small, when our parents were still around. Sure, he’d still read a lot and train, in a sense he was a miniature copy of himself already then, but, he’d have time to play with me, too. If not I used to annoy him until he did. Always worked, always! He used to be all grumpy about it first, but he’d be smiling and having fun in no time. Not that he’d ever admit it, not even as a kid, but he couldn’t hide it from me. We are twins, after all. We were… To think there was a time when Vergil knew how to smile out of reasons other than spite. It’s quite unbelievable to think of really. Then again, before he went all manic and power crazed Vergil used to discuss his findings with me, enthusiastically telling me about all the books he read and what they said, and when he did his eyes always used to glow with a passion that’s hard to describe. Sometimes I can still see that avid flare before me if I really try. I wish I had listened better, but at the time I was uninterested, keener to go outdoors and explore the surrounding woods than listen to Vergil’s stories about demons and what not, just like any normal child. I still regret it though. When mum died it all stopped, he locked himself away from the world, and from me. The flare in his eyes, it also died. I never saw it again. It was replaced by something colder. It was as if his eyes had been glazed with a transparent shield which allowed his expression to remain unchanged and rendered his eyes unreadable. That’s when we stopped getting along. I still have a bunch of Vergil’s old books, which he collected throughout the years and a couple of demonic artefacts too. They look pretty amazing but I can hardly guess what it all was meant to be used for, and most of the books are written in languages I can’t even read. My best guess is that power, in some sense, can be attained from all of this crap, but power doesn’t really interest me, not in the way it enchanted my brother. I just keep his stuff because… why was it again? Who cares anyway? Maybe I should just throw it all away? I have no use for the books and surely no one would miss them…but they sure must have been important to him though, because Vergil has scribbled notes all over the pages. I can’t really understand them either, not most of them at least. There are a few that I can interpret but they’re really of no use to me.It never quite struck me actually how intelligent my brother was and how much he must have struggled and fought to gain all of his knowledge. In a sense his willpower was quite admirable. If his hatred for humans hadn’t been so deep I might even have looked up to him as an older brother, I might even have learnt a thing or two… But his abhorrence of humanity ruined it all! I just don’t understand it, his resentment towards humans, and his own humanity nonetheless. I never found it a weakness; as a matter of fact it feels like the human blood running through my body makes my life a lot more fun, so why isn’t this applicable to him? Sure, humans are not as strong and though as demons, but they have many other and good qualities. Our mum for one managed to soften dad’s heart, pulling out the good in him. In the end, what is really the difference between humans and demons? Both mum and dad disappeared, and sometimes I wonder if Vergil has not forgotten this… They both died… So why does Vergil feel this inexplicable hatred towards humans, and only humans? Why don’t I? We were raised under the same circumstances and experienced the same things, the only difference being that he was a tad older… I just don’t understand… Why did Vergil let himself become overcome by hate? Why did I let hate overrun Vergil? Maybe I’ll hang on to his stuff just a while longer… just because… Ugh… My head hurts from all the thinking… I shouldn’t drink this much, I get way too sentimental……Sometimes it still feels unreal that he’s gone…