Doom Slayer Ends Up in the DMC Universe

The streets of Red Grave City were a warzone. Smoke and ash filled the air as civilians fled in terror, the once-vibrant metropolis now reduced to a battlefield between humanity and the unrelenting hordes of demons. The remnants of crushed vehicles and shattered buildings stood as a testament to the ongoing chaos.

Through the destruction, a singular figure moved without hesitation. The Doom Slayer.

His arrival had been an event in itself—an explosion of hellfire and raw energy that shook the city to its core. And now, as he waded through the demonic filth that infested these streets, his very presence sent shockwaves through both his enemies and unexpected allies alike.

From a rooftop overlooking the carnage, a pair of demon hunters—mercenaries far less famous than the likes of Dante or Nero—watched in stunned silence.

"Yo… you seein' this?" one of them whispered, gripping the hilt of his sword. "That guy in green just ripped a Hell Vanguard in HALF."

"No way… Dante or Nero, maybe, but that dude ain't even using magic!" his partner responded, eyes wide.

Below them, the Doom Slayer moved like a force of nature—unstoppable, unwavering. A group of demons lunged at him, howling with bloodlust, but they barely had time to react before he cut them down with a ferocity unmatched. His Super Shotgun roared, reducing a charging Hell Caina to a mist of gore. Another demon, a Fury-class predator, attempted to teleport behind him. The Slayer caught the movement, twisted, and grabbed the beast mid-lunge. With a sickening crunch, he tore its clawed arm from its socket and, without breaking stride, impaled the creature with its own limb.

The mercenaries could only watch in disbelief.

"This guy fights different," one whispered. "No fancy dodging, no magic circles—just pure brutality."

They were used to seeing demon hunters in action. Whether it was Dante's stylish gunplay, Nero's raw power, or even Vergil's calculated swordsmanship, each fighter had their method. But this… this was something else entirely. This warrior didn't fight like a man.

He fought like an executioner.

Steeling his nerves, one of the hunters finally called out. "H-Hey! You with the armor! Who the hell are you?!"

The Doom Slayer did not respond.

He merely reloaded his Super Shotgun with a metallic click, his focus never wavering. Without so much as a glance toward them, he moved forward, stepping over the broken corpses of his enemies.

"…Did he just—bruh, did he just ignore us?!" one of the mercenaries stammered.

"More like, he doesn't give a damn," the other muttered.

A deep, guttural growl cut through the air, making the remaining demons scurry back. A new presence had entered the battlefield—a Hell Pride Knight.

Standing nearly ten feet tall, the creature's twisted, armor-clad form radiated with unholy energy. Its enormous hell-forged blade dripped with molten fire, its helmet resembling the visage of a tormented soul locked in eternal agony. Unlike the lesser demons, this one did not flee.

The Hell Pride Knight exuded confidence, its deep, gravelly voice carrying across the battlefield. "You… are not of this world… but you shall perish in it all the same."

The Doom Slayer did not respond with words—only action. His fists clenched, his gauntlets tightening as the air around him seemed to vibrate with barely contained aggression. The runes across his Praetor Suit glowed faintly, responding to the rising tension.

High above, on a rooftop overlooking the scene, three figures stood observing the impending confrontation. Dante, Nero, and Vergil.

"Alright, I gotta see how this plays out," Dante said, his usual cocky grin widening.

"Is he seriously about to fight that thing bare-handed?" Nero questioned, gripping Red Queen. "What is this guy's deal?"

Vergil remained silent, watching with an intensity that suggested he was already analyzing the Doom Slayer's movements. He had seen powerful beings before, but this one intrigued him. There was something different here—something beyond raw strength.

Below, the Hell Pride Knight raised its massive sword, prepared to bring it down upon its silent adversary.

With inhuman speed, the Doom Slayer dodged to the side, his movement precise and unrelenting. And then, in a single motion, he retaliated—his fist surging forward with a devastating Hellbreaker punch.

The impact was immediate.

The Hell Pride Knight's helmet cracked, the sheer force sending it staggering backward as the earth beneath them trembled from the blow.