The atmosphere shifted subtly but definitively, as if something invisible had crossed that battlefield and redefined the weight of every remaining second. The fire still burned, the rain still fell like sacred blades piercing hell, and Ouroboros still slowly crawled through the dimensional rift above… but none of that mattered anymore at that moment. The focus had shifted. The axis of the world had moved. And now, everything revolved around only two existences.
Vergil sighed, a low, almost weary sound, like someone finally accepting that an inevitable task must be completed, even without any pleasure involved. His eyes remained fixed on Dante, but there was no anger in them, no hatred, not even explicit contempt. There was something worse: absolute indifference mixed with purpose.
"It's past time," he said, his voice calm, firm, carrying a weight that left no room for response. "I will retrieve the fragments of Lucifer that are in your body."
