Slowly, Vergil placed his hand on his heart, the last of the demonic hearts he possessed... "..."

He was no longer demonic... he was... draconic.

"Impressive." He heard the voice coming from within his heart, no, from his inner world. It was Crymsaria’s voice.

"I missed hearing from you all," Vergil said, weaving a laugh, "Is everything alright?" he asked.

Nivara’s voice followed, "I’d say things seem to have fallen into place now, you should see how your soul is now," she said, and he felt as if she were smiling.

Then: "I’d say we can finally help you with something now." Qliphoth’s descending voice echoed, "Want a little help?" She said, and clearly, she was smiling too much~

"Hm... I don’t know, do I need it?" He smiled~

His body began to produce a lot of energy seemingly out of nowhere~ "What is this?" Qliphoth replied: "My roots have finally connected to your soul, now I can finally manage your soul correctly and nurture it like the world tree itself." She smiled.

"Okay... what does that mean?"

"That now, you have almost infinite energy as long as I can manage your soul. After all, you are a special being, your body and soul are not separate, this gives us an absurd level of compatibility!" She spoke as if explaining a rare experiment.

While they talked, Dante stared at Vergil as if he were an alien.

"After everything I did, after all the preparations... WHY THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?!!" Dante’s scream was so loud that the whole world around him trembled. Literally.

Vergil turned to look at him, "Well, sometimes perfect plans aren’t so perfect after all, right?" Vergil spoke as sparks of energy began to surge in his hand and Yamato appeared~ "I missed you, darling~" Vergil said smiling as he stroked Yamato, which vibrated all over~

’She’s coming to life... weapons with egos are common, but... this one is dangerous.’ Vergil thought.

Vergil remained silent for a moment after feeling Yamato vibrate in his hand, as if the blade itself were... alive, pulsing in direct sync with what he had become, responding not only to his presence, but to the new nature of his existence, something that could no longer be defined as demonic... nor human... nor even just spiritual.

He breathed slowly.

And then...

He took a step forward.

There was no explosion.

There was no absurd pressure like before.

But the world... reacted nonetheless.

The mere act of existing in that state was enough to make the surrounding space adjust, as if it were constantly being recalibrated to support something that... clearly shouldn’t belong there.

Dante watched.

His eyes still wide.

Still trying to understand.

Still trying to accept.

But failing.

"After everything I’ve done..." he murmured again, his voice now lower, more unsteady, but laden with a frustration that didn’t diminish. "After all the preparations..."

His eyes lifted.

Fixed on Vergil.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL STANDING?!!" The shout tore through the battlefield.

Vergil tilted his head slightly.

"Hmm..." the sound came out low, thoughtful, as he twirled Yamato slightly between his fingers, as if merely testing the blade’s balance.

And then—

He pointed to Ouroboros. The colossal body still traversed the dimensional rift, its black scales reflecting the very absence of light, its presence distorting everything around it as it continued... exiting... as if the concept of size simply didn’t apply to it.

Vergil sighed.

"I have to deal with that..." he said, his voice calm, almost casual, as if he were commenting on something trivial amidst a scenario where gods were being redefined. "So let’s make things easier, shall we?"

A small smile appeared. "Kill yourself."

Yamato’s blade tilted slightly, now pointing towards Dante, but without any immediate intention to attack.

"Avoid the embarrassment..." he continued, his voice still low, but now carrying a slight, cold, almost cruel irony. "I really don’t have the patience to fight you right now."

"You have time..." he said, simply, directly. "Until it’s completely gone." His fingers tightened slightly on the hilt of Yamato.

The energy around the blade began to vibrate as if space itself were being prepared to be cut.

"Give up..." he finished, now without any trace of humor in his voice. "Surrender..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "...and die."

For a second... nothing happened.

The silence that followed Vergil’s words wasn’t empty—it was heavy, suffocating, laden with such absolute meaning that even the battlefield itself seemed to hesitate to react, as if reality were waiting to see... how someone like Dante would respond to something like that.

And then— He began to laugh.

"Hah..." His shoulders trembled slightly. "Hah... hah..." And then... it exploded. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!!!"

The sound tore through the space, echoing in a distorted way, almost painful to hear, as if it wasn’t just laughter, but a complete collapse of something inside him, something that simply... couldn’t process what had just happened.

Dante brought his hand to his face.

His fingers dug into his own skin, scratching, pressing, as if trying to hold onto something inside that was... escaping.

"Kill myself...?" he repeated, his voice trembling between laughter and anger, completely unstable.

Totally broken.

"YOU... TOLD ME TO KILL MYSELF...?" he spat the words, his aura beginning to pulse again, but now... uncontrolled, erratic, as if even it no longer knew how to behave.

He took a step forward.

The ground gave way.

"AFTER EVERYTHING I DID—?!"

Another step. Stronger.

Heavier.

"AFTER EVERYTHING I PLANNED—?!"

His energy exploded.

But not like before.

That wasn’t evolution.

It was desperation.

"I AM A KING!!!" The cry tore through everything.

From a desperate need to affirm something that... at that moment... no longer seemed true.

"I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO SHOULD BE STANDING HERE—!!" His aura tried to grow.

To force space.

To impose presence.

But—

Vergil was no longer there.

Dante blinked.

A fraction of a second.

Confusion.

Mistake.

And then—

Impact.

Vergil appeared in front of him.

Without sound.

Without transition.

Without warning.

His fist was already in motion. And when it hit—

The world doubled.

It wasn’t just strength.

It was absolute precision.

The punch sank into Dante’s abdomen with silent brutality, but the effect... came later.

A shockwave coursed through his body from the inside out, as if all his organs had been crushed at once, as if his very existence had been compressed into a single point... and then released.

The sound came late.

A dry crack.

And then—

Dante vomited.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

Not a simple jet.

It was violent.

Explosive.

His body instantly doubled over, his eyes widening as everything inside him seemed... to fail at once. Blood gushed out in absurd quantities, spraying onto the floor, into the air, staining everything around him as his breath failed, choking on his own fluid.

His body trembled. Violently.

His legs gave way.

But he didn’t fall completely.

Vergil was still there.

In front of him.

His fist still pressed against his abdomen for a brief second before slowly pulling away.

Unhurriedly.

Emotionlessly.

Dante coughed.

More blood.

His eyes trembled now.

Not with anger.

But with something worse.

"...cough—!!... cough—!!"

He tried to speak.

He couldn’t.

Vergil tilted his head slightly.

Observing.

Like someone analyzing something... already resolved.

"King...?" he murmured, his voice low, almost disinterested.

One step back.

Slow.

Controlled.

"You still don’t understand..." his eyes fixed on Dante’s, now completely cold.

"...what that word means."

Dante tried to straighten up.

His body faltered for a second.

More blood trickled from his mouth.

His regeneration... tried to kick in.

But it was late.

Slow.

Wrong.

Vergil twirled Yamato slightly in his hand.

The blade vibrating.

Anxious.

"...but it’s alright," he continued, calmly, as if explaining something simple.

His eyes then lifted.

To the sky.

To Ouroboros.

Which was still... emerging.

Bigger.

More absurd.

More impossible.

And then it returned.

To Dante.

"...you still have a little time to learn."

Silence.

Heavy.

Final.

And for the first time since the beginning—

Dante didn’t seem... in control.

Dante didn’t think.

He didn’t analyze.

He didn’t breathe.

He simply... moved forward.

A raw, desperate, completely irrational impulse, like a wounded animal that still refuses to accept that it has already lost, his aura exploding again in an unstable, distorted way, trying to force power where there was no longer any control, his blade emerging from his hand in a violent movement as he tore the space between them with a single objective:

To hit.

Anything.

Any blow.

Any impact that would prove—even if only for a second—that he still existed above someone.

"I’M GOING TO KILL YOU—!!!"

The scream came broken.

Full of blood.

Full of despair.

And then—

He arrived.

The blade descended with absurd force, cutting through the air with enough violence to distort the surrounding space, a blow that, moments before, would have torn mountains, destroyed dimensions, obliterated anything in its path—

And it was stopped.

By a hand.

Just... a hand.

Vergil didn’t even move completely.

He simply raised his arm, relaxed, almost lazy, and held Dante’s blade between his fingers, the impact being completely nullified as if it had never existed, as if the entire attack were... irrelevant.

The sound didn’t come.

There was no explosion.

There was no shock.

Just... silence.

Dante froze.

His eyes wide.

His breath faltering.

Trying to understand.

Trying to accept.

But failing.

Vergil looked at the blade.

Then at Dante.

And then... he sighed.

"Are you really still trying...?" His voice came out low, laden with an almost offensive disinterest, as if it were more bothersome than threatening.

He tilted his head slightly.

Observing.

As if deciding... what to do with something that clearly no longer mattered.

And then—

He released the blade.

And in the same movement—

He advanced.

His fist was already in motion before Dante could even react, traversing space with absurd precision, but this time... there was something different.

Energy.

But not demonic.

Not chaotic.

Not unstable.

It was... pure.

Brilliant.

Sacred.

An absurd charge of divine energy condensed around his fist at the exact moment of impact, compressed to a point where reality itself seemed to recede around it—

And then—

He hit it.

The blow sank into Dante’s abdomen with indescribable violence, but what came next... was worse.

Much worse.

The energy exploded.

From within.

Outward.

It wasn’t an ordinary impact.

It was... forced purification.

Sacred energy invaded Dante’s body at the point of contact and simply... detonated everything in its path, tearing flesh, destroying organs, negating regeneration, burning every part of his existence as if rejected by the very concept of what was "pure."

And then—

It was gone.

Dante’s body was literally cut in half.

Clean.

Brutal.

The upper part was thrown backward, spinning in the air as blood and energy spread like a grotesque explosion, while the lower part simply... fell, still trembling on the ground like something that hadn’t yet understood it should cease to exist.

The sound came after.

Heavy.

Wet.

Final.

Silence.

Vergil remained still.

His arm still extended for a second.

The energy slowly dissipating around his hand.

And then... he looked.

At what remained of Dante.

A small smile appeared.

Slight.

Almost amused.

"...hm." he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he observed the severed body.

A pause.

And then—

"Damn..." he blurted out, in a surprisingly casual tone.

"...you look like Satoru Gojo."

He twirled Yamato slightly in his hand, as if he were just... commenting on something irrelevant.

"But in your case..." he continued, looking at Dante with that same cold, disinterested gaze— "...it didn’t even have style."