Time had long since ceased to have any meaning for Vergil, slowly dissolving into an empty, irrelevant concept, almost irritating in its own futility. There was no sun to mark the passing of days, no night to indicate rest, no environmental change to suggest progress or movement. Only that infinite sea of ​​shifting colors, always rearranging itself, always transforming, but never truly changing. Yet, somehow… months had passed. He knew it. Not by exact count, but by wear and tear. By the way his mind had been forced to spin in circles so many times that even his own thoughts began to seem like echoes of something he had already thought before.

The small floating island where he remained was all he had. A solid fragment in the middle of absolute nothingness, reddish-purple, firm enough to support his body, but insignificant in the face of the vastness that surrounded him. He had walked every inch of that space countless times, tested his physical limits, tried to jump, force, break through, expand… nothing worked. There was no border to cross, no path to follow. It was as if that island wasn't located anywhere, yet it was impossible to leave it.

At first, he tried to understand.

He tried to rationalize.

He tried to analyze the structure of that space, to look for patterns in the movement of colors, in the fluctuations of what he now understood to be the Dimensional Gap itself. He tried to meditate, tried to access his inner connections, tried to reach Nivara, Crimsaria… even Qliphoth. But there was no answer. There was no echo. There wasn't even resistance.

It was as if he were completely isolated from himself.

That's what really began to break him.

Because Vergil wasn't someone who feared silence.

But that… wasn't silence.

It was absence.

The absence of everything that defined him.

Without his weapons.

Without his entities.

Without his own inner presence.

Only he remained… and his thoughts.

And this, over time… became unbearable.

There were moments when he simply stood still, staring into space, without blinking, without reacting, without even noticing his own body. An almost vegetative state, where his mind neither advanced nor retreated, only existed in a constant loop of unanswered questions. "How did I get here?" "How do I get out?" "What does this mean?" Questions that repeated themselves so many times that they eventually lost their weight, becoming just noise.

He even laughed at times.

Low laughs.

No humor.

Just a belated reaction to the absurdity of his own situation.

And then… he stopped.

Stopped trying.

Stopped questioning.

Stopped moving.

And that's how Ophis found him, day after day, observing without interfering, without commenting, without even showing any apparent interest. She remained seated somewhere on the island, or simply appeared there, as if she had always been present, her eyes fixed on him with that same empty, cold expression, completely devoid of emotion.

But she observed.

Constantly.

Like someone analyzing something.

Like someone… judging.

Vergil knew this.

Even in that state.

Even without reacting.

He felt it.

And yet… he did nothing.

Because, at that point… it didn't matter.

It was only after a long time—long enough for his own identity to begin to fragment into repetitive and silent thoughts—that something finally changed.

Not in the environment.

Not in the Lacuna.

But in her.

Ophis spoke.

Her voice cut through that absolute silence so suddenly that, for a brief instant, Vergil didn't even react immediately. It was as if his mind needed a moment to remember how to process words coming from another person.

"Do you want a deal?"

The question was simple.

Direct.

Without any emotion.

Vergil blinked.

Once.

Slowly.

His eyes, which had remained fixed on nothing for too long, finally moved, finding her figure a few steps ahead. She was sitting as always, swinging her feet in the air, her expression unchanged, as if she had just commented on something trivial.

He didn't answer immediately.

Not out of disinterest.

But because… that question carried something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Purpose.

"…What deal?"

His voice came out hoarser than usual, as if it hadn't been used for days… or weeks. But there was still something there. There was still awareness. There was still… Vergil.

Ophis didn't hesitate.

"I'll give you a receptacle capable of holding your soul."

The sentence came without pause.

Without construction.

Just… spoken.

Vergil frowned slightly.

That… caught his attention.

Truly.

His eyes, previously opaque, now carried a slight focus, a spark of interest that hadn't appeared in a long time.

"…A receptacle."

He repeated slowly, processing each word carefully, as if testing their weight within his own mind.

"In exchange… you help me kill that idiot."

Now there was a pause.

Not on her part.

But on his.

Vergil tilted his head slightly, his eyes finally moving to the distant horizon, where that colossal presence still existed, even if it wasn't visible at that moment.

Great Red.

Her target.

He remained silent for a few seconds, organizing his thoughts which, for the first time in a long time, weren't spinning in empty circles.

"…Explain."

The word came out simply.

But it carried intention.

Ophis looked at him.

Directly.

Without flinching.

Without hesitating.

"You want to go back to your world."

It wasn't a question.

It was a statement.

Vergil didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

Ophis continued.

"Your body is sealed. Your soul is here. You can't go back alone." Each word was a direct blow to the logic of the situation.

No embellishments.

No beating around the bush.

Just facts.

"I can solve this."

Vergil narrowed his eyes slightly.

Now… he was completely attentive.

"…And how exactly do you intend to do that?"

There was distrust in his voice.

Natural.

Necessary.

Ophis tilted his head slightly.

"I can create a receptacle."

A brief pause.

"A body."

Silence.

Vergil absorbed that slowly.

A body.

Not his.

But… one capable of supporting him.

"…And you simply… give it to me?"

He asked, with a slight skepticism returning to his tone.

Ophis blinked once.

"No."

Direct.

"You will use it." She corrected herself.

Vergil let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh through his nose.

"Of course."

A pause.

His eyes returned to her.

More focused now.

More alive.

"And the price is killing that dragon."

Ophis nodded.

"Yes."

Silence.

But now… it wasn't the same silence as before.

It was a calculated silence.

Vergil slowly crossed his arms, his body finally assuming a more active posture, closer to what he truly was.

"You're offering me a way to return… in exchange for something you can't do alone."

He spoke, more to organize the logic than to question.

Ophis didn't answer.

But her expression… didn't change.

Which, in a way, was already an answer.

Vergil took a few steps across the small island, his movements slow but steady, like someone getting used to their own body again after a long period of inactivity.

"…Interesting."

He murmured.

His thoughts now flowed differently.

Clearer.

More purposeful.

More… dangerous.

"You said you're going to give me a vessel capable of holding my soul."

He stopped.

Turning his face slightly to look at her again.

"Do you have any idea what you're offering?"

Ophis answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

A pause.

"I know exactly."

Vergil stared at her for a few seconds.

Trying to find any sign of doubt.

Any flaw.

But there was nothing.

Only that absolute calm.

That certainty… irritating.

He let out a small sigh.

"…And you think I'd accept a deal like that without questioning it?"

Ophis tilted her head slightly.

"You're already considering it."

Silence.

Vergil didn't answer immediately.

But… she was right.

And that… irritated him slightly.

He turned his gaze back to the void.

To that endless sea of ​​colors that, for the first time in months… didn't seem completely useless.

"…You want to kill Great Red."

He said slowly.

"Yes."

"And you need me."

"Yes."

"And in return… I'll come back."

"Yes."

Another pause.

Longer.

Heavier.

Vergil closed his eyes for a moment.

Thinking.

Weighing.

Calculating.

When he opened them again… there was something different there.

Something that hadn't existed for a long time.

Ambition. "…So let's get one thing straight."

His voice was firmer now.

Closer than ever before.

"I don't make deals based on vague promises."

He took a step forward.

"If I accept this… I want guarantees."

Ophis watched him.

Silently.

"You'll have them."

She said.

Simply.

Vergil stared at her for a few more seconds.

And then…

A small smile appeared on his face.

It wasn't warm.

It wasn't friendly.

It was… strategic.

"So it seems I finally have a reason to escape this inescapable hell."

He murmured.

His eyes now fixed on her.

"Tell me, Ophis…"

A pause.

"When do we begin?"

…

The battlefield had long since ceased to resemble a coliseum, having been completely transformed into a scene of annihilation where even the concept of structure had been abandoned before the absurd pressure of the conflicting forces, leaving only deep craters, suspended stone slabs, and fissures that glowed with unstable energy, like open wounds in reality itself. The air was heavy, not only from the density of mana, but from the existential instability caused by the presence of something that shouldn't exist on that plane, something that now moved freely in the center of that chaos.

Dante was no longer recognizable as anything ordinary.

His Nephilim form remained active, but now there was a disturbing fluidity to his movements, as if his body were constantly adjusting, balancing opposing forces that should never coexist so perfectly. Each step he took caused the ground to fragment into irregular patterns, not just from force, but because the space around him simply couldn't remain stable for long.

And yet… he smiled.

Lilith appeared before him again in a tear of darkness, her black spear instantly forming in her hand as she advanced without hesitation, her presence carrying the weight of a primordial entity that had not yet fully recovered its original state. Her movements were swift, brutal, precise… but there was a flaw.

She was burning energy too quickly.

Each attack she unleashed was not just a blow—it was a massive release of power that, under normal conditions, would be devastating enough to erase entire existences. But in that incomplete state, each use drained more than it should, consuming reserves that were still stabilizing after millennia of sealing.

The spear descended in a brutal arc, tearing through space and creating a black line that advanced directly toward Dante.

He didn't block.

He merely tilted his body slightly.

The blow passed through him.

Not through evasion… but because the very space around Dante distorted at the last instant, shifting the attack to a slightly different layer of reality.

Lilith frowned. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

That wasn't just technique.

It was adaptation.

"You're already learning too fast…" she murmured, stepping back a few inches as her aura flickered briefly, a clear sign of increasing instability.

Dante turned his neck slightly, as if releasing accumulated tension, his six wings opening a little wider as white and black energy flowed down his feathers in an almost liquid form.

"Learning?" he replied, his double voice echoing uncomfortably through the room. "I'm just… using."

Before Lilith could respond, two presences cut across the battlefield simultaneously.

Sapphire emerged from the right, enveloped in divine flames that now burned with greater intensity, even under the limitations imposed upon her, while Sepphirothy appeared from the opposite side, her aura more controlled, but no less dangerous, carrying a cold and precise weight that contrasted directly with Sapphire's fire.

The two attacked at the same time.

Sapphire raised her hand, and the Flame of Olympus erupted again, but this time condensed into a more focused, denser beam, directed straight at Dante's body without dispersion.

At the same time, Sepphirothy advanced from below, her blade enveloped in energy that seemed to cut not only matter, but intention, seeking to strike the exact point where Dante's balance might falter.

For an instant… it worked.

The flame struck.

The blade too.

A gigantic explosion engulfed the center of the battlefield, creating a column of energy that soared into the torn heavens, illuminating everything around it with an almost blinding intensity.

The impact was so strong that the surrounding ground sank even further, widening the central crater and hurling fragments of stone kilometers away.

Sapphire breathed heavily.

Sephirothy maintained her firm posture.

Lilith watched.

And then…

The energy dissipated.

And he was still there.

Dante remained at the center of the explosion, his body partially burned, some parts charred, others torn… but already regenerating at an absurd speed, flesh and energy rebuilding themselves as if the very concept of damage had become optional for him.

His eyes moved slowly.

First to Sapphire.

Then to Sepphirothy.

And then… a smile spread across his face again.

"That… was better."

The pressure instantly increased.

Sapphire felt her body grow heavy.

Sepphirothy narrowed her eyes.

Lilith slightly clenched her teeth.

Because they all understood the same thing at the same time.

He wasn't being pressured.

He was being stimulated.

Sapphire stepped back a few meters, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her flames diminished for an instant, not from lack of power… but from limitation.

And that… irritated her deeply.

"Sepp!"

She shouted, her voice carrying real urgency for the first time since the beginning of the confrontation.

Sepphirothy turned her face immediately, still keeping some of her attention on Dante.

"Speak!"

Sapphire clenched her fists, her divine aura trembling with frustration.

"Communicate with Amon!"

The order came almost like an impact.

Sepphirothy frowned for a moment.

"Now?!"

"NOW!" Sapphire replied without hesitation, her voice cutting through the battlefield. "We have no choice!"

A pause.

Short.

But heavy.

"Fighting like this…" Sapphire continued, her eyes fixed on Dante, who was already beginning to take a step forward again—…without full power here is death.

The silence that followed lasted less than a second.

But it was enough.

Because they both knew.

This wasn't an exaggeration.

This wasn't dramatic strategy.

It was… reality.

Sepphirothy closed her eyes for a brief moment, her aura concentrating as she tried to connect with something far more distant, far deeper—the Underworld, where Amon ruled, where the chains that bound Sapphire were still active.

At the same time…

Dante disappeared again.

And reappeared right in front of Lilith.

The impact of the punch came before the sound.

The space ahead of him collapsed as his fist instantly pierced the distance, striking Lilith with enough force to bend the surrounding air into multiple layers.

Her body was thrown back again, traversing another sequence of ruins before stopping, sliding across the destroyed ground as her aura faltered for a brief instant.

She spat blood.

But… she smiled.

Even in that state.

"Tch…" she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb. "Damn it."

Dante tilted his head slightly, observing her.

"You're almost finished."

He said.

Simple.

Direct.

Lilith let out a small laugh.

"I finished… six thousand years ago."

She replied.

And then… she stood up again.

Even with her body unsteady.

Even with her energy being drained faster than she could stabilize.

Because stopping… there… wasn't an option.

Meanwhile, behind them…

Sephirothy was still trying.

Focusing.

Calling.

Searching.

"Amon…" she murmured internally, her mind traversing dimensional layers, "answer… now."

Because, at that rate…

Not even three against one would be enough.