Doom Slayer Ends Up in the DMC Universe

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" 

/*************************************************************\

Red Grave City was ablaze with fury and ruin. The once-familiar urban landscape now lay shattered under the weight of an unholy convergence. The sky, fractured by swirling energies, burned with hues of crimson and deep violet, and the very ground trembled under the combined assault of demonic forces. Amid the tumult, Dante, Nero, and Vergil fought their own battles, their stylish moves and quips a stark contrast to the grim, mechanical precision of one figure—one unstoppable force who roamed the chaos like a force of nature.

That force was the Doom Slayer.

For most, his presence was an enigma. The demon hunters had seen countless adversaries fall before their blades and guns, but none had ever fought with such cold, unyielding efficiency. While Dante's eyes danced with the thrill of battle and Nero's raw energy pulsed with reckless abandon, there was something almost alien in the way the Slayer approached combat. His motions were devoid of hesitation—every action was pure, calculated death. And as the demonic horde surged forth, the Slayer's singular focus cut through the madness like a beacon of grim purpose.

The city around him was burning. Buildings twisted unnaturally, their facades melting into grotesque shapes, while the sky above churned with the unholy fusion of two hells. In this maelstrom of destruction, the Doom Slayer advanced steadily, his every step measured and deliberate. No wasted motion. No thought of tomorrow. There was only the present—the endless need to annihilate anything that stood in his way.

Then, from the maelstrom emerged a twisted abomination—a nightmarish fusion of a Hell Knight and a DMC Chaos Demon. Its monstrous form was a hideous mockery of life: claws dripping with blackened ichor, skin that burned with molten energy, and multiple eyes that glared with feral, maddened intent. With a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the ruined city, the creature charged at the Doom Slayer.

Inside the Slayer's mind, a silent, clinical analysis took over:

  Assess Threat Level: HIGH

  Armor Density: Heavy Exoskeleton with Regenerative Capabilities

  Weak Points: Knee Joints, Lower Spine, Head Cavity

  Elimination Method: Precision Shot > Dismemberment > Execution

The analysis was not spoken, merely registered in the depths of his relentless consciousness. As the demon lunged, its massive claws extended in a vicious arc, the Slayer sidestepped with impeccable timing. In that fraction of a second, he drew his Super Shotgun, aimed with lethal precision at the creature's exposed knee joint, and fired a single, thunderous blast. The resulting explosion tore through the demon's limb; in an instant, its leg was blown clean off. The beast staggered, a tortured shriek ripping from its throat, but the Slayer showed no mercy.

Without pause, he leaped forward, closing the distance between himself and the writhing creature. With both hands gripping his Doomblade, he drove it into the horned skull of the abomination. A sickening crack echoed as the demon's spine was violently torn apart, sending dark ichor and sparks of unholy energy spraying across the broken pavement.

High above the battlefield, Dante's voice cut through the roar of combat as he watched the spectacle. "Sheesh… I thought I was brutal. This guy fights like he's got a personal grudge against existence itself," he said with a mixture of awe and admiration.

Nero, ever the candid one, grinned as he tightened his grip on Red Queen. "Sounds like someone we know, huh?" he remarked, his tone half-joking but laced with genuine incredulity.

Vergil, ever the detached observer, silently noted the efficiency of every move. "He wastes no movement… No ambition, no hesitation—just pure destruction," he commented, his voice cool and measured as his eyes followed the Slayer's every motion.

But the Doom Slayer did not register their voices. His focus was absolute. In the midst of the raging battle, he processed every threat with mechanical precision. As a group of lesser demons attempted to flank him—creatures that had once been confident predators—the moment they entered his peripheral vision, his mind flagged them as immediate threats.

[Tactical Calculation]

  Threat Detected: Three Targets, Close-Range Attack Imminent

  Elimination Method: Multi-Strike / Rip & Tear

In a single, fluid motion, the Slayer drew his Doomblade once more. With the speed of a vengeful specter, he spun around, decapitating two demons in one brutal arc of slashing steel. Their heads fell in unceremonious heaps onto the burning asphalt. The third demon, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, staggered back in terror. Before it could fully react, the Slayer's Gauss Cannon, already locked onto its target, discharged a focused, searing shot. The demon vaporized on impact, leaving nothing but a brief, acrid scent of scorched flesh behind.

For the Doom Slayer, these moments were as natural as breathing. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only the relentless drive to eradicate all manifestations of evil. His mind was not cluttered with emotions or regrets. Instead, it was a battlefield of pure tactical calculation, where each enemy was assigned a threat level and a corresponding method of elimination. Every action was precise, efficient, and final.

Yet, despite the mechanized efficiency of his killing spree, a strange aura of isolation seemed to surround him. While Dante, Nero, and Vergil fought with flair, their eyes occasionally flickered with questions and uncertainties. Dante's playful banter masked a growing concern: "How the hell does he keep going like this?" he wondered aloud, his smile fading ever so slightly as he observed the Slayer's unending assault on the demonic horde.

Vergil, his expression inscrutable as ever, contemplated the enigma. "Is he truly a warrior… or something else entirely?" he mused, his voice barely above a whisper. There was an otherworldly quality to the Slayer's efficiency—a detachment that suggested he was driven by forces beyond mere mortal rage.

Even the demonic forces, notorious for their ruthless arrogance, were beginning to cower. The merging of the two hells, combined with the Doom Slayer's unyielding fury, had instilled in them a terror they had never known. In the midst of the chaos, lesser demons that had once marched forward with unbridled aggression now trembled in the shadows. Their unholy roars gave way to frantic whispers, and some even fled the scene, abandoning the battlefield in sheer panic.

Amid the burning ruins of Red Grave City, the Slayer pressed on. His every motion was a symphony of violence—a dance of death performed with no room for error. The world around him was collapsing into anarchy: the very sky cracked open with swirling fissures, the ground shuddered under the weight of chaotic energies, and the air vibrated with the cacophony of battle. Yet, amidst this cosmic carnage, his focus remained unbroken.

He fought not for glory or recognition. There was no time for reflection or sentiment. His only thought was the next target, the next threat to neutralize. In his mind, each demon was nothing more than an obstacle to be removed, a problem to be solved in the most efficient manner possible.

As the battle raged on, the ambient sounds of combat receded into a distant murmur in the Doom Slayer's consciousness. His eyes—behind the dark visor—seemed to pierce through the chaos, locking onto every detail with cold precision. The tactical calculations, the split-second decisions, and the brutal execution of his foes were all part of an internal dialogue that few could comprehend.

Every explosion, every shriek of dying demons, every ripple of unstable energy was noted and categorized. There was a rhythm to it—a relentless cadence of destruction that played out as if on a loop. In that loop, the Slayer was both the conductor and the instrument, orchestrating a symphony of death that resonated with the ferocity of a wrathful god.

The relentless tide of the merging demonic hordes surged forward, and the Slayer met them with a series of perfectly timed strikes. His Hellbreaker punches shattered skulls; his Super Shotgun blasts cleared entire swarms; his Doomblade swung with the precision of a scalpel, dissecting his foes with ruthless efficiency. There was no room for error, no time for mercy. Each motion was a calculated act of annihilation, executed without a hint of doubt or distraction.

Even as the chaotic merging of dimensions threatened to engulf the city in a maelstrom of uncontrollable energy, the Doom Slayer did not waver. His internal focus was absolute—there was only the enemy, only the next target to eliminate. The swirling energies above and the distorted echoes of collapsing reality were mere background noise to his singular purpose: to fight.

From his elevated vantage point, Dante and Nero continued to engage the lesser demons with a mix of style and bravado, their occasional banter punctuating the roar of battle. Yet even they could not ignore the fact that the Doom Slayer's approach was something far removed from the theatrics of their own combat. It was clinical, relentless, and terrifyingly effective.

As the demonic tide pressed in, Vergil's gaze lingered on the Slayer. "He fights as if he is driven by a force beyond this world," he remarked quietly to himself. The silent intensity in the Slayer's every movement raised questions that the seasoned warrior could not easily dismiss. Was he merely a man—a soldier forged in the fires of countless battles—or was he something else entirely? A being not bound by mortal limits, a living embodiment of death itself?

The battle raged on, and the city's fate hung in the balance. The merging realms had brought forth horrors beyond imagination, but none were as fearsome as the man in green—silent, relentless, and utterly unyielding. His eyes, hidden behind a visor of cold determination, saw only the enemy. And so he fought—without pause, without hesitation, without end.

In that infernal crucible of chaos, as Red Grave City burned and the boundaries of reality frayed at the edges, the Doom Slayer remained the unchallenged master of destruction. He did not slow down, did not think about what came next. He was not burdened by doubts or desires. He was the executioner, the harbinger of death—a force of nature that cared for nothing but the eradication of evil.

For Dante, Nero, and Vergil, the realization was dawning slowly amid the carnage. The Slayer was not just strong. He was methodical, precise, and utterly relentless. They began to understand that his path was one of singular focus—a path that left no room for sentiment or distraction. In their brief moments between battles, as they exchanged bewildered glances and whispered questions, one thought was clear: the Doom Slayer was something even demons feared.

As the cacophony of battle receded into a heavy, oppressive silence, the only sound remaining was that of his heavy boots against the scorched earth—a sound that heralded the inexorable march of death. In that moment, amidst the ruins of a broken world, one undeniable truth emerged: the Slayer did not fight for glory, for vengeance, or for redemption. He fought because he had to. And in that silent, relentless pursuit, there was only one goal—only one outcome. He only fought.

/*************************************************************\

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"