Doom Slayer Ends Up in the DMC Universe

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Red Grave City was a realm of chaos and ruin, its twisted streets still reeling from the earlier battles. The unstable dimensional energies continued to distort reality, and now the terror had reached a fever pitch. The very presence of the Doom Slayer had rippled through the demonic ranks, and tonight, in the infernal marketplace that had once served as a hub for demonic trade, fear itself had taken on a tangible form.

The marketplace sprawled before them—a vast, open area where once demons haggled over cursed relics and forbidden secrets. Now, it was a place of utter disarray. The ground quaked beneath the strain of unstable energies, and the sky above was a swirling canvas of unnatural reds and violets, as if the heavens themselves were warping between realities. Every stone, every guttural whisper, vibrated with a malevolent life of its own.

In the midst of this unholy setting, lesser demons moved with a palpable sense of dread. They snarled and hissed, their eyes wide with terror as they sensed a presence that made even their cursed blood run cold. A Blood Reaver, its sinewy form scarred by countless battles, stepped forward from a cluster of panicked fiends. Its voice, rough and trembling, echoed through the chaos:

"The Rift is shifting! Something else has entered… something that does not belong!"

At that very moment, a deep tremor ran through the ground. Out of the swirling distortion at the marketplace's edge, a lone armored figure emerged. The Doom Slayer walked forward, methodical and unrelenting, his steps measured as he advanced through the carnage. His visage was hidden behind a dark, unyielding visor, but every motion spoke of lethal purpose.

A massive Hell Knight, usually the apex predator of these infernal realms, paused mid-stride as it caught sight of the approaching figure. Its breath hitched, and its claws twitched in both anticipation and uncertainty. With a low, trembling growl, it managed to utter,

"He… he is here…"

But the Hell Knight's words were swallowed by the relentless thud of the Slayer's boots. The Doom Slayer did not stop; he pressed on. The moment his boot struck the stone path, a wave of absolute terror rippled through the demonic ranks. Several lower-ranked demons—Imps, Possessed Soldiers, and Revenants—began to back away, their instincts screaming at them to flee from this living nightmare.

One Imp hissed in panic, "No… no, it's him… THE NIGHTMARE!"

Nearby, a Possessed Soldier stammered, "It cannot be! He was bound to his world—he should not exist here!"

The atmosphere shifted palpably. The mere presence of the Doom Slayer was like a predator stalking its prey, and the demons, for once, were not in control. Then, without warning, the Slayer burst forward—a terrifying explosion of motion and fury. In a single, fluid maneuver, he closed the distance between himself and the Hell Knight. Before the monstrous creature could even register a proper response, a deafening shotgun blast ripped through its chest. The Hell Knight let out a guttural snarl as it collapsed to the ground, lifeless, its massive form crumpling in an instant.

The effect on the marketplace was immediate and overwhelming. Even demons who had long ruled the underworld with unwavering arrogance turned and fled, their once-proud bellows now replaced by terrified shrieks. A Blood Reaver, its voice hoarse with fear, howled,

"THIS REALM CANNOT CONTAIN HIM!"

High above the chaos, on a nearby rooftop that still offered a clear view of the pandemonium, Dante and Vergil watched the unfolding terror with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Within moments, Nero joined them, having used his Devil Bringer to scale the ruined structures and land beside Dante. Nero's eyes were wide, and he blinked in disbelief as he took in the scene.

"What the hell? These guys are running… running?!" Nero asked, his voice trembling between amazement and dread.

Dante, letting out a low whistle, replied with a mix of humor and admiration, "Never seen 'em bolt like that before. Usually, they've got some fight in 'em."

Vergil's tone was measured and intense as he observed the fleeing creatures. "They fear him—not because of his strength alone, but because of what he represents. He is more than just a warrior. He is… a force of nature." His words, spoken in near-whisper, resonated with the weight of ancient prophecy—a realization that the Slayer was not merely an opponent, but a harbinger of inevitable destruction for all demonic kind.

As if on cue, a massive, infernal warhorn sounded from somewhere in the distance—a call for retreat from the demons that had gathered in the marketplace. The sound reverberated off the corrupted stone, intensifying the terror among the ranks. Nero, still in awe, murmured, "Did he just… break their morale without saying a damn word?"

Dante grinned broadly, his eyes alight with that rare spark of pure admiration. "Yep. That's some next-level badassery right there."

The Doom Slayer, unfazed by the chaos his mere presence had caused, continued his relentless march forward. Every step was a calculated act of annihilation—a silent promise that none would stand in his way. The infernal marketplace, once a vibrant center of demonic commerce, was now reduced to a slaughterhouse where even the most fearsome of Hellspawn quaked in terror.

It was in moments like these that the true horror of his existence became clear. For generations, demons had ruled with a brutal certainty. Their arrogance had been unchallenged—until now. The Hellspawn, once united under the banner of relentless aggression, were now dispersed and disorganized, their instincts overriding their pride. Even high-ranking demons—Hell Knights, Revenants, and Blood Reavers—began to retreat, something unheard of in the annals of demonic lore.

From his lofty vantage point, Vergil surveyed the scene with a cold, analytical gaze. "He is not merely powerful—he embodies something far worse for demons: inevitability. His presence is the end of all resistance."

Dante's cocky veneer softened into genuine respect. "I gotta hand it to you, man. I thought I was the ultimate badass, but this… this is something else entirely." His voice was a mix of admiration and disbelief as he watched the Slayer's every move, the silent efficiency of his onslaught carving a path through the demonic horde.

Nero, always quick with his tongue, could only manage a hushed exclamation. "Holy…" His voice trailed off as he realized that even the fiercest of their foes were crumbling at the mere sight of the Slayer—a living nightmare that transcended all expectations.

The marketplace continued to convulse under the unstable energies. Walls warped and the sky shifted unpredictably, a constant reminder of the dimensional rift that had unleashed such chaos. In this moment, the demons' retreat was not a sign of tactical regrouping but pure, instinctual terror. The inevitability of the Doom Slayer's approach was a force they could neither combat nor comprehend.

As the warhorn faded into the distance, the silence among the fleeing demons deepened. Their hissing and snarling turned into desperate cries as they scattered into the darker corners of the ruined marketplace. The chaos was total, the order of the underworld thrown into disarray by a single, unyielding force.

On the rooftop, Dante shook his head in disbelief, exchanging a look with Vergil that spoke volumes without words. "This is it," Dante said quietly, his tone laced with both humor and grim acknowledgment. "If the demons are running now, imagine what'll happen when the ones who can't run take notice."

Vergil's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as he contemplated the implications. "We have seen only a glimpse of what this warrior represents. A harbinger of doom for those who dwell in darkness. The very nature of fear has changed tonight."

Meanwhile, the Doom Slayer advanced undeterred, his every move a testament to years of unyielding combat and the weight of countless battles. His silent strides, punctuated by the thunderous echoes of shotgun blasts and the crashing of demonic bodies, were a declaration of war—a reminder that in this realm, resistance was futile.

In the infernal marketplace, even as the highest of demons began to cower, there remained a small, stubborn faction that did not immediately retreat. These were the hardened veterans of Hell, those who had long thrived on chaos and bloodshed. But as they caught sight of the Slayer's relentless advance, their resolve crumbled. One by one, they fell back, their fierce pride replaced by a raw, unadulterated fear. A Blood Reaver, its eyes wide and voice quivering with panic, cried out, "THIS REALM CANNOT CONTAIN HIM!" and with that, it turned tail and ran, leaving its comrades to follow in a mad, disorderly retreat.

Down on the street, the demonic retreat was complete. The once-mighty forces that had ruled the underworld were now nothing more than scattered shadows fleeing from the inevitable. In that chaos, the Doom Slayer's legend grew even further. His silent, inexorable advance had broken the very morale of the demonic legions—a feat that had never been witnessed before in the annals of Hell.

The tension in the air was palpable. The unstable rift overhead continued to pulse erratically, casting shifting shadows across the carnage. Every demon's flight, every hiss of terror, confirmed one undeniable truth: the Doom Slayer was not just another powerful warrior. He was something else entirely—a force of nature, an inevitability that threatened to upend the very order of the underworld.

On the rooftop, Nero, still recovering from the shock of the scenes unfolding below, shook his head slowly. "Did he just… break their morale without saying a damn word?" he whispered, his voice filled with awe and a hint of fear.

Dante, a grin splitting his face, replied, "Yep. That's some next-level badassery right there. I've never seen Hell run like that." His words were a mix of amusement and reluctant admiration, as he began to truly grasp the magnitude of what they were witnessing.

Vergil, ever the observer, added in a low, measured tone, "He is more than mere strength. He is the embodiment of inevitability—an agent of finality that renders all resistance moot." His eyes glinted with a newfound respect, recognizing that the Slayer's impact went beyond mere physical domination.

As the echoes of terror and retreat subsided, the Doom Slayer continued his inexorable march forward, unfazed by the chaos he had wrought. His silhouette, framed by the shifting hues of the unstable sky, moved with a grim determination that left no room for doubt. He was a predator among prey—a living nightmare that left the demonic world trembling in its wake.

In that moment, as the last of the fleeing demons vanished into the dark recesses of Red Grave City, the stage was set for what was to come. The Doom Slayer's mere presence had rewritten the rules of engagement in this hellish realm. Even the highest-ranking demon lords, once impervious to fear, now faced the prospect of absolute defeat, knowing that if the unstoppable force of the Slayer turned its gaze upon them, none could hope to stand against it.

The alliance of Dante, Nero, and Vergil, though initially formed out of necessity, now found itself bound by a shared understanding—a respect born of witnessing the unfathomable terror that one warrior could evoke. They had seen firsthand how the demonic hierarchy crumbled before him. And as they looked out over the scarred remnants of the marketplace, the unstable rift above, and the trembling echoes of a fallen Hell, they realized that this was only the beginning.

The next chapter of this infernal saga was poised to bring even greater challenges. For if the demons could be driven into such a state of panic by the mere presence of the Doom Slayer, what would happen when the ones who could not run took notice? The very fabric of the merging realms was unstable, and forces beyond comprehension were already stirring in the darkness.

With a final glance toward the trembling ground and the still-echoing cries of retreat, the demonic denizens of Red Grave City faced an uncertain future. The weight of their terror, the shattered remnants of their pride, and the overwhelming inevitability of the Doom Slayer's advance promised that the war for their realm was far from over.

Thus, as the unstable energies continued to swirl above and the sound of distant, agonized howls faded into silence, a profound realization took hold among Dante, Nero, and Vergil. The Slayer was not merely a powerful warrior—he was an inevitability, a force of nature whose silent, unyielding presence reshaped the very rules of combat. And in that grim understanding lay both hope and despair: hope that, with his power, they might yet turn the tide; and despair that such overwhelming force might also herald the end of everything they had ever known.

In the dying echoes of that infernal night, as the chaotic energies receded into a foreboding calm, the future of Red Grave City and the merging realms hung in a delicate balance. The demons had fled, their ranks in disarray, and the only sound left was the steady, unwavering march of the Doom Slayer—a reminder that in the heart of Hell, even terror must eventually bow to inevitability.

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If you like the story ! please support it

 And the best way to do this is through patréon

 You get access to +5 chapters ! form vergil !!

Or even 12+ chapters if you want ! from Dante!!

So please check out my patréon 

https://www.patréon.com/c/zakx205

Don't forget to change "é" to "e"