“RRRAH!” Dante unleashed his fury. He drum-rolled, and a golden aura surrounded the Devil Arm. In a flash of light, it metamorphosed into a full drum kit.

“Now we’re talking!” He crashed against the cymbals. Sharp waves of sound chopped into Vergil’s skin. The consistent tinning of the hi-hat juggled Vergil in the air. The bass drum, heavy and overbearing, pinned him against the wall.

Dante’s drumming was powerful. Oppressive. It was the perfect intersection of finesse and ape-like brutality. It suited Dante perfectly. Better than that guitar Devil Arm, at least. But Vergil wanted his turn. And he had just the means to take it.

- Ragnarust Round 4