Chapter 420: Recreation of the Divine
Vergil kept his eyes half-closed, still aware of every fluctuation in Runeas’s energy. The faint pulse of her aura wavered like a candle on the edge of the wind. But she was alive. Weak, devoid of power, marked by pain—but alive.
That’s when Paimon’s voice echoed behind him, cutting through the tenuous tension that had settled in.
“So… do you have a mont now? Or are you already going to save another nearly damned soul?”
Vergil didn’t even bother to stand up completely. Still kneeling beside Runeas, he simply turned his face slowly, giving Paimon a dry look—half skeptical, half bored.
“…What exactly do you want now?”
Paimon didn’t respond with words. Instead, he took two steps forward, bending down until his silhouette obscured the purple light on her sexy body. Her imposing body leaned in gently, and in one fluid movent, she tugged at his collar with unexpected delicacy, bringing their faces dangerously close.
Her breath slled like night roses—sweet and intoxicating. And her breasts… enormous, heavy, encased in a garnt that hid nothing, practically pressed against his chest like a deliberate trap.
“It’s not what you think,” she whispered, her voice low and almost laughing.
Vergil arched an eyebrow, unmoving. “…You just shoved your breasts in my face and you expect to think nothing of it?”
“Oh, love, if I wanted to get you, I would have already done it while you were sleeping… you know I can… I’m just waiting for the right mont to pounce,” she replied mischievously, and then, surprisingly, she slipped her hand between her breasts, fiddling with them for a mont until she pulled out a small rectangular device: an enchanted cell phone.
The gesture completely broke any seductive tension. Vergil blinked in disbelief.
“…You’re keeping this in there?”
“Sure,” she replied casually, running her finger over the enchanted screen. “It’s safe, secure… and look what I have.”
She turned the screen toward him with a mischievous smile.
“I got the rest!”
The screen showed a sequence of images: arcane photographs of two ancient fragnts, shrouded in silver light and draconic runes. One was embedded in an obsidian rock; the other, half-fused with a runic structure that looked like it had co from an abandoned temple.
Vergil straightened slightly, his eyes now alert.
“…Shards of Excalibur?” He squinted. “These are the last two.”
Paimon nodded proudly, waving her phone like soone showing off a rare jewel.
“You had three. I kept three more… two were missing. But now… they’re all here.”
Vergil was silent for a mont, his expression hardening.
“…You went to Specter Island?”
She crossed her arms, still smiling. “Yes. After you killed him, the place partially collapsed… but I managed to get in just in ti. The residual energy was still insane. I had to fend off a Leviathan spawned by the sacred energy of the fragnts, but I found this there, hidden in a broken altar.”
Vergil’s expression was no longer masking his distrust. “…And why are you telling this now?”
Paimon closed her phone, tucking it back into her breasts as if it were an ordinary pocket. Then, with a more serious look, she took a step forward.
“Because I could destroy the fragnts. Or sell them. Or give them to soone. But…”
She glanced briefly at Safira and Sefirotia, who stood silently at the back of the room, before turning back to him.
“…we—Amon, Astaroth, myself, and Phenex—decided that perhaps it would be best to… rebuild it.”
“…Rebuild Excalibur?” Vergil repeated, incredulous. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Vergil stepped aside, standing up straight again. His aura remained cold, restrained, but the tense line of his jaw spoke volus.
“You’re forgetting that this weapon was broken by sothing, and it was sowhat corrupted, right? I’m not trying to be negative.”
“Since when does that matter?” Paimon replied, crossing her arms more tightly. “Because now, it’s going to be yours.”
Vergil paused. The silence between them grew heavy.
Paimon continued:
“You absorbed one of the fragnts. Rember? You fused part of Excalibur with your Soul Weapon. It wasn’t just a magical reinforcent—it was a spiritual bond. Part of Excalibur is inside you now, sleeping at the core of your power in that sword called Yamato.”
Vergil ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully. He rembered. When Yamato and the relic had rged into one, creating a Holy Demonic sword…
Paimon took another step, his face now serious. “The point is… even if we rebuild the blade, it will never be the sa. It’s… corrupted. Or rather, transford. And you, Vergil, are the only reliable anchor we have. If there is to be a new Excalibur… then it must be bound to soone who can contain it.”
“…You trust that much?” Vergil let out a dry chuckle.
Paimon tilted his head slightly. “Trust is a strong word. But… I trust that you’re dangerous enough to scare a sword.”
Vergil raised his eyebrows. “…Fair enough.”
“Besides,” she added, a glint in her eye, “there’s sothing else. The missing fragnt… the one Specter had. I haven’t found it anywhere. Not a trace. And that ans either it disintegrated with the body… or it was absorbed along with the rest.”
Vergil narrowed his eyes. “So I absorbed two fragnts?”
Paimon nodded slowly. “It’s a hypothesis, but it makes sense. Specter’s power was… abnormal. He channeled curse energy very powerfully; it would make sense if he was using one of the fragnts when he invaded your mind and tried to take over your body. And when you devoured him, it wasn’t just his soul. It was everything.”
Vergil ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling for a mont.
“Great. Now I’m a walking piece of chaos-tempered divine sword…”
“Basically,” Paimon muttered, smiling as if amused by the situation. “But… that’s why we think it’s best for you to keep it. The seven fragnts… even if reconstructed, they could never be released. But fused with you… perhaps there will be balance.”
Vergil fell silent. Inside, the idea made him nauseous. Not because of the sword itself, but because of what it represented. A symbol of absolute judgnt. Of fanatical light. Of justice without compassion. He, who walked among the shadows and was made of death, wasn’t exactly the ideal wielder for sothing like that.
Or perhaps… that was precisely why.
“You want to rebuild it. I am the vessel. And when all this is complete…?”
“It will be part of you. Not a weapon, not an entity. An extension of your soul. A New Excalibur, with your signature.”
Vergil exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.
“…You’re all mad.”
“Maybe,” Paimon replied with a slight shrug, her smile losing so of its earlier malice. “But between that and letting the fragnts be lost again… well, we don’t want another war like the last one, do we? We don’t want any more trouble like that.”
She took a step forward, her expression more serene this ti. There was no seduction in her gaze, just openness.
“You already carry many scars. But you’ve grown stronger, more stable. And maybe… it’s ti to accept that as part of you. Maybe it’s ti to stop running from this strength.”
She lowered her voice, almost like a secret.
“And, well… maybe you really are the only one capable of using it without becoming corrupted. So… why not keep the sword with you?”
Vergil remained silent.
His eyes slowly turned to the side, resting on Runeas’s sleeping body. Her chest still rose and fell with difficulty, her soul torn but alive. The aura that had once threatened to consu everything was now reduced to a faint ember.
Vergil then shifted his gaze to his hands. The skin was clean, but he felt the weight there—the weight of sothing ancient, dormant. As if the blade was already with him, hidden deep within his essence.
“…Let’s do this properly,” he finally said, his voice deep and firm. “Nothing rushed. Nothing based solely on faith or impulse.”
He then turned back to Paimon, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“Let’s talk to Vivianne. Earlier, she and I were considering fusing two fragnts to my Soul Weapon. But… now that we have them all…”
He paused, his eyes thoughtful.
“…Maybe rebuilding Excalibur isn’t as dangerous as it seed. Maybe, in the right hands… it can be reborn differently.”
Paimon smiled, this ti sincerely. A subtle glint flashed in his eyes.
“In the right hands, she can be everything she hasn’t been before.”
Paimon was silent for a mont, simply watching the way Vergil’s eyes drifted into thought—too deep to be interrupted in any frivolous way. But, being who she was, she didn’t resist for long.
She moved closer again. Closer than necessary. Her fingers slid subtly along his forearm, just enough for him to feel the warm, seductive energy she exuded naturally. Her voice dropped a few notches, becoming lower, almost lodic.
“…And don’t you want to take this mont… to relax a little?”
She tilted her face, letting her sweet, intense perfu fill the air between them. “It’s been a while since you touched , Vergil.”
He arched an eyebrow, glancing at her as if glancing at an obvious trap. His scarlet eyes were cold—but not indifferent.
“You haven’t proven yourself enough yet,” she replied, her voice as dry as a sheathed blade. “And I don’t know your intentions, Paimon.” He spoke and turned around, “But who knows? Bring the fragnts to the Agares mansion.” He said and disappeared in a red magic circle.
User Comments
0 comments from readers