The silence that followed that demonstration still hung heavy in the air, like an invisible layer pressing each of those present to reorganize everything they knew about limits, rules, and the very workings of that world.

But, unlike the others, there was someone there who had no interest whatsoever in simply accepting it in silence.

Sephirothy was the first to move.

She took a step forward, her wings adjusting slightly behind her as her gaze fixed directly on Vergil, not with hostility, but with a barely disguised incredulity, like someone who had just witnessed something that simply shouldn’t be possible, even by the absurd standards they were already accustomed to.

"What... the hell... happened?" she asked slowly, each word carrying enough weight to cut off any attempt at relaxation that still remained in the air.

Her eyes moved briefly to the three newly manifested presences before returning to him. "How exactly are these three here, like this?"

The question wasn’t just curiosity.

It was a necessity.

Because it wasn’t just strange... it was structurally wrong.

Vergil didn’t seem affected.

In fact, he just shrugged, as if he were being questioned about something trivial, his fingers still resting casually on the arm of the sofa while Ophis remained completely oblivious in his lap.

"That time..." he began, his voice calm, without any urgency, as if he were just remembering a minor detail, "...when they escaped the seals."

His gaze briefly shifted to Nivara and Crymsaria, as if confirming the memory before continuing.

"After they disappeared..." he continued, "...someone decided to seal them both inside me."

A short pause.

Too natural.

"And I simply... didn’t say anything."

Silence returned for a moment, but now charged with a different kind of tension.

"...you didn’t say anything?" "Avoid problems," Paimon repeated in the background, incredulous, but without completely interrupting.

Vergil tilted his head slightly.

"Avoid problems," he replied simply, as if that explained absolutely everything.

And, for him... it did.

He then adjusted his posture slightly, leaning more comfortably against the sofa as he continued, now with a slight disinterest in his tone, as if he were merely completing a report.

"After that, when we were in that... old Lucifer playground..." he made a small gesture with his hand, as if he didn’t even need to name the place correctly, "...I found the Qliphoth."

The energy around the red-haired dryad seemed to react slightly to the mention, as if confirming the connection.

"She was trapped there," he continued. "So I took her out."

Simple.

Direct.

No dramatization.

No weight.

As if he had simply opened a door.

"Now..." he concluded, his eyes quickly scanning the three entities around him, "...the three were living inside me."

A short pause.

And then a slight smile.

"But with the new powers..." he added, slightly raising his hand, letting a small amount of demonic energy flow between his fingers, dense, stable, absurd in its purity, "...it became easy to give them a body."

Silence.

This time heavier.

Because this wasn’t just an explanation.

It was a confirmation of something much bigger.

And it was at that moment that a new voice emerged.

Further in the background.

Lilith.

She didn’t move much, still maintaining her reserved posture, but her eyes were attentive, analyzing every detail with the precision of someone who had seen entire eras of existence pass.

"The power of a progenitor..." she began, her voice calm, but laden with a much deeper weight than any other present, "...that’s exactly it." All eyes began to turn to her.

"To create new beings," she continued, unhurriedly. "To generate a race from oneself, shaping existence according to one’s own essence."

She paused briefly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed Nivara, Crymsaria... and the Qliphoth.

"But this..." she murmured, now with a slight change in tone, something rarer... something close to genuine surprise.

"...this is different."

The silence deepened again.

"It’s the first time..." Lilith continued, now looking directly at Vergil, "...that I’ve seen someone use this power to create only the bodies."

A pause.

Heavier.

"Without conversion," she finished.

"Without altering the original nature."

That fell like a stone on the surface.

Because what Vergil had done... wasn’t just powerful.

It was too necessary.

He didn’t create new versions.

He didn’t transform.

He didn’t corrupt.

He simply... gave form.

Kept it intact.

And that—

Was much harder than anything else.

Sapphire was the first to react this time, her eyes narrowing as she re-analyzed the three entities, now with a completely different understanding of the situation.

"You didn’t create subordinates..." she murmured, almost to herself.

Her eyes returned to him.

"You brought entire existences back... without altering what they are."

Vergil simply shrugged again.

"It was easier that way," he replied.

And that—

Somehow—

Was the most absurd thing said in that entire room.

The weight of that explanation still reverberated through the room, each of those present absorbing what had been said in their own way, some in analytical silence, others clearly uncomfortable with the level of absurdity the situation had reached. But, as expected, not everyone was focused solely on the cosmic implications of it.

Katharina, on the other hand, was focused on something much more... direct.

She crossed her arms tightly, taking a step forward with an expression laden with unsubtle irritation, her eyes rapidly shifting between Nivara, Crymsaria, and the Qliphoth dryad before returning to Vergil, as if she were adding two plus two and not liking the result one bit.

"Great," she began, her voice laden with sharp, almost cutting sarcasm. "Simply great."

Another step.

Now closer.

"Three more hotties to hit on my husband."

The silence that followed was... different.

Not heavy.

But dangerously restrained.

Crymsaria blinked once, clearly catching the energy of it in the moment, her smile widening almost automatically, like someone who simply doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at a situation like this.

"Husband, hm?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly as she analyzed Vergil from head to toe, without the slightest shame. "Interesting... that wasn’t specified."

Nivara, standing beside him, didn’t react with words, but her gaze briefly slid to Vergil, assessing him with that characteristic coldness, as if registering the information... and considering it.

The dryad of the Qliphoth simply chuckled softly, bringing one hand to her lips, clearly finding the situation amusing, her eyes gleaming with a quiet mischief as she watched the scene unfold.

"Darling..." she murmured softly, in an almost provocative tone, "you really like complicated situations, don’t you?"

Vergil, at the center of it all, remained completely calm.

Without tension.

Without urgency.

He simply rested his face in his hand, observing Katharina with a slightly curious look, as if genuinely trying to understand the intensity of her reaction.

"...I didn’t tell anyone to hit on me," he replied simply.

Which, somehow, only made things worse.

Katharina closed her eyes for a second.

She took a deep breath.

Very deep. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

And then opened them again, now with an even more direct look.

"Oh, sure," she replied dryly. "Because that definitely prevents something."

Paimon, in the background, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by it, while Alice rested her chin on her hand, watching as if it were a private spectacle.

Sapphire brought her hand to her face for a brief moment, letting out an almost inaudible sigh, like someone who had already foreseen exactly this kind of distraction happening.

Sephirothy, on the other hand, simply crossed her arms, a small smile appearing at the corner of her lips, clearly entertained.

Lilith watched in silence.

But her eyes... were attentive.

Very attentive.

Vergil then tilted his head slightly, still looking at Katharina, completely calm, as if analyzing the situation logically, completely ignoring the emotional charge involved.

"...if it bothers you," he began, without changing his tone, "just don’t let it happen."

Silence.

Total.

Paimon froze.

Alice blinked.

Sapphire stopped.

Even Crymsaria was silent for a second.

Katharina stared at him.

Processing.

Reassessing.

Trying to decide if it was stupidity... or provocation.

And then—

She pointed directly at him.

"You DON’T help."

Vergil only blinked once.

And, for some reason—

That was enough to make half the room stifle a laugh.

...

The atmosphere shifted completely, as if the very fabric of the narrative had been displaced to a much colder, more contained point, where each word carried a different, older, more inevitable weight. Far from the newly built mansion, far from the chaotic heat of that group gathered around Vergil, there was a place where time seemed not to advance... only to repeat itself.

A prison.

Not made of ordinary stone, nor of steel, nor of any comprehensible material. It was a space sealed by concepts, overlapping layers of ancient runes and absolute laws, engraved directly into reality as if they were a fundamental part of the existence of that place. The walls had no defined form, only an infinite surface of golden symbols that moved slowly, rearranging themselves in patterns that never fully repeated.

And in the center—

Her.

Freyja.

Suspended, enveloped by chains that bound not only her body, but her very essence, limiting her presence so profoundly that even her energy seemed reduced to a distant echo of what it once was. Still... her eyes remained alive.

Intact.

Defiant.

Outside, silently observing, stood Odin.

Momentary.

Impeccable as always.

His gaze was firm, analytical, like someone who wasn’t there for emotion, but for confirmation. He didn’t seem worried, didn’t seem tense, there was no urgency in his posture—just absolute control of the situation.

"You are alright," he finally said, his voice echoing strangely within that space, as if even sound needed permission to exist there. "Considering the eternal sealing... your condition is stable."

The response came immediately.

Unfiltered.

Disrespectful.

"Go fuck yourself."

Freyja’s voice cut through the atmosphere with an almost offensive naturalness, carrying a rage that hadn’t diminished in the slightest with time, perhaps it had even refined itself, become denser, more focused.

Her eyes locked on him intensely.

"Eternal is your illusion, not this prison," she continued, a slight smile appearing, not of madness, but of certainty. "I will get out of here."

Odin didn’t react.

Not a muscle.

He only watched.

And then... he laughed.

Softly.

Restrained.

Almost disappointed.

"You are still trapped in daydreams," he replied, his voice calm, but laden with subtle condescension, like someone listening to a child insist on something impossible. "That’s... consistent with your state."

But Freyja didn’t look away.

On the contrary—

She smiled more.

This time more openly.

More... dangerously.

"Daydream?" she repeated, tilting her head slightly, as if she genuinely found it funny. "No."

A short pause.

Her eyes gleamed.

"Planning."

The silence between them stretched for a moment.

And then she continued.

"My contract..." her voice fell slightly, not in weakness, but in intent, like someone revealing something they no longer needed to hide. "...with two Demon Kings..."

This time—

Odin reacted.

It was minimal.

Almost imperceptible.

But it happened.

A subtle adjustment in his gaze.

A microscopic shift in his attention.

And that... was already too significant.

Freyja noticed.

Of course she noticed.

Her smile deepened.

"You’ll make sure I get out of here," she finished, now with a confidence that didn’t seem fabricated, didn’t seem like hope... it seemed like information.

Certainty.

"I already know everything," she added, her eyes locking completely on his now, leaving no room for doubt.

The atmosphere seemed heavier.

Denser.

As if even the prison... had heard.

Odin remained silent for a longer moment this time.

Analyzing.

Calculating.

Reassessing.

But his posture didn’t change.

Still controlled.

Still absolute.

"...even if that were true," he finally said, his voice returning to its neutral, almost cold tone, "you’re still here."

A simple observation.

Direct.

Irrefutable.

But—

Not enough.

Freyja laughed.

And this time it wasn’t restrained.

It was... light.

Almost satisfied.

"For now," she replied.

And then—

She tilted her face slightly.

Drawing as close as those chains allowed.

Her eyes never leaving his.

"And when I get out..." her voice fell, lower, heavier, each word placed with surgical precision, "...I’ll make sure Ragnarok happens."