The air around Yamato’s blade continued to fragnt into tiny, invisible lines, as if the very fabric of reality were being squeezed by sothing far greater than it could withstand. Microscopic cracks appeared and disappeared around the sword, opening and closing at absurd speeds, each releasing small crackling sounds reminiscent of glass being pushed to its limit before shattering. The battlefield, devastated by countless collisions, remained suspended in that strange instant where destruction seed to have given way to a montary pause.
Vergil watched the blade in silence.
His gaze was no longer fixed on Dante or Angelo. At that mont, his eyes were turned towards Yamato as if he were trying to see sothing far beyond the weapon’s surface. Demonic energy continued to flow through his body like an endless river, fueling every fiber of his existence, every beat of his heart, every fragnt of his soul that was connected to that sword.
And yet, sothing was still missing.
Because power... was never just energy.
Power was understanding.
Most creatures that existed in the universe never fully understood this. For them, power was rely brute force, quantity of energy, intensity of aura, explosions capable of tearing mountains apart or devastating entire cities. Demons, gods, mortals, and monsters often believed that a warrior’s greatness was asured by the violence he could unleash against the world.
But that was only the surface.
True power was always linked to sothing much deeper.
Understanding.
Every skill, every technique, every manifestation of energy that a being produced was rely an expression of how much it understood itself. It wasn’t the energy itself that determined the form of a power, but the inner perception of the one who used it. The way soone saw their own existence, the way they interpreted their own nature, all of this shaped the final form of their abilities.
Powers were, in the end, reflections of consciousness.
When a warrior launched a strike, created a technique, or manipulated demonic energy, he wasn’t rely moving power through the world. He was expressing an idea about who he was.
That’s why techniques evolved.
That’s why abilities changed over ti.
As an individual matured, as their self-image transford, their powers also transford.
The evolution of power was never just physical.
It was philosophical.
It was spiritual.
It was existential.
And within that concept existed sothing far rarer.
Sothing that very few beings in history had truly achieved.
A Supre Technique.
A Supre Technique wasn’t just a stronger strike, nor a more destructive ability. It wasn’t a technique created solely to win battles or crush enemies. In fact, the destructive force of a Supre Technique was rely a secondary consequence of sothing much greater.
A Supre Technique was the result of a complete understanding of oneself.
It erged when an individual finally understood every aspect of their own existence. Their nature, their limits, their desires, their fears, their contradictions, their origins, and their destiny. When all of this beca clear, when there were no more doubts within that being’s mind, then sothing extraordinary happened.
Energy ceased to be just energy.
It beca a concept.
A Supre Technique was a pure manifestation of soone’s identity. It wasn’t just a skill, but an absolute declaration of who that person was within the structure of the universe.
It was the point where power and identity beca one and the sa.
That’s why Supre Techniques were so rare.
Because achieving a complete understanding of oneself was almost impossible.
Most people spent their entire lives struggling with internal doubts, conflicts, regrets, and unanswered questions. Even creatures that lived for thousands of years often carried uncertainties within themselves. As long as these uncertainties existed, understanding could never be complete.
Without complete understanding, a Supre Technique could never be born. There were, however, exceptions.
Ancient beings who had walked the universe for unimaginable ages, observing civilizations rise and fall, facing cosmic wars and traversing periods so long that the very notion of ti beca irrelevant. So of these beings, after thousands or even millions of years of existence, eventually reached a point where they finally understood themselves.
And when that happened...
A Supre Technique was born.
It wasn’t sothing that needed to be consciously created.
It simply arose.
Like an inevitable truth.
Raphaeline was one of those beings.
Throughout millennia of existence, she had faced countless challenges, experienced profound transformations in her own consciousness, and explored every fragnt of her nature. Over ti, her vision of herself beca absolute, without contradictions, without doubts.
When that mont arrived, her Supre Technique erged naturally. When her body reached its peak, when she was reborn with the Blood, she created her technique.
It was a skill that perfectly reflected her essence, sothing no other being in the universe could replicate, because no one else shared exactly the sa identity she possessed.
Sapphire had also achieved sothing similar.
Her journey had been different, marked by intense emotions, conflicts, and brutal transformations throughout countless ages. But through these experiences, she had also co to a profound understanding of who she was, what she represented, what it ant to exist as she was.
And so, her own Ultimate Technique was born.
These techniques weren’t just powerful.
They were inevitable.
Because they were the purest expression of their users’ identity.
Vergil, however...
He was still far from that.
Demonic energy continued to swirl around his body like a miniature sun, producing power levels that already surpassed anything most beings could ever imagine. His mastery over Yamato was extraordinary, his understanding of dinsional space was profound, and his ability to evolve in the midst of combat was sothing few warriors could even keep up with.
But all of this was still not enough.
Because Vergil still didn’t fully understand himself.
He believed he was close to sothing great. The technique he called Endless Judgent was an attempt to reach that state, a construct that combined his skill with Yamato, his perception of dinsional space, and his combat philosophy based on absolute precision.
It was an extraordinary technique.
But it was still incomplete.
In fact, it was impossible for it to be complete.
Because Vergil still didn’t understand the true aning of a Supre Technique.
He believed he was creating sothing definitive, sothing that could eventually reach a perfect level if refined enough. But the reality was far more complex than that.
A Supre Technique couldn’t be refined gradually.
It couldn’t be built piece by piece like a weapon.
It arose from an instant of absolute clarity.
And that instant hadn’t yet arrived for him.
Vergil was still walking towards that understanding.
He was still experinting.
He was still testing ideas.
He was still exploring the limits of his power.
Because, in the end, Vergil was young. Extrely young.
Despite his absurd strength, despite the battles he had already fought and the mastery he demonstrated over his abilities, he was still practically a newborn compared to beings who had already achieved true Supre Techniques.
Vergil was only twenty-two years old.
Twenty-two years of existence.
For most ordinary creatures, that might seem like a lifeti of experience.
But in the context of the universe...
It was nothing.
A blink of an eye.
Raphaeline had walked for thousands of years before achieving her ultimate technique.
Sapphire had traversed entire eras of existence before fully understanding her own nature.
Vergil was still a baby on that scale.
An extrely powerful baby.
A baby capable of facing monsters and gods.
But still...
A baby.
And at that very mont, as his demonic energy continued to grow relentlessly and Yamato vibrated in his hand like an extension of his own soul, Vergil was doing exactly what any being destined to achieve sothing greater needed to do.
He was fighting.
Exploring.
Testing the limits of himself.
Because only by traversing this path, only by facing challenges that forced his consciousness to evolve, would he eventually reach the point where his understanding would be complete.
And when that mont finally arrived...
Then, and only then...
His true Ultimate Technique would be born.
The demonic energy swirling around Vergil continued to grow like a star in formation. The red sky above the coliseum pulsed violently, black lightning tearing through the clouds as the suspended ruins trembled under the absurd spiritual pressure that dominated that space.
Yamato still vibrated in his hand.
The dinsional micro-fissures around the blade appeared and disappeared like breaths of reality itself. Each crack in the air seed to announce that the fabric of space was being stretched beyond its natural limits.
But then sothing changed.
Vergil noticed it first.
His gaze slowly shifted from the sword.
Not to Angelo.
But to Dante.
Sothing was wrong.
Very wrong.
Dante wasn’t advancing again. He wasn’t making jokes or taunting as he normally did during a fight. He stood still, a few ters ahead, his head slightly bowed as his breathing beca heavier.
The energy around him began to shift.
Before, Dante’s demonic aura was red, intense, chaotic, filled with a wild infernal energy that always resembled a fla burning uncontrollably.
Not anymore.
Now there was sothing more within it.
Sothing much older.
Much heavier.
The six fragnts of Lucifer that were inside his body began to react.
Vergil narrowed his eyes slightly.
He could feel it.
It wasn’t just power growing.
It was a convergence.
As if multiple different forces were trying to rge within the sa vessel.
Dante let out a slow sigh.
When he raised his head again, the smile was still there.
But now there was sothing different in his eyes.
Sothing that wasn’t entirely his.
"Well..."
He cracked his neck slowly.
"I really didn’t want to do this now."
The aura around him began to grow.
Heavier.
Darker.
The sky reacted imdiately.
The lightning beca more violent, and a new layer of energy began to mix with the storm above the coliseum.
Vergil tilted his head slightly.
"Interesting."
His voice ca out low.
Analytical.
"This seems... different."
Dante laughed.
But the sound now had sothing distorted about it.
Sothing deep.
Sothing that didn’t seem entirely human.
"It is..."
He ran a hand over his face as the energy continued to accumulate within his body.
"Unfortunately, I didn’t want to use this against you."
Vergil lifted Yamato a few inches.
"Then don’t use it."
Dante let out another laugh.
This ti shorter.
More bitter.
"If only it were that simple."
The energy within him exploded.
Not like an attack.
Like a transformation.
The fragnts of Lucifer reacted violently within his soul, and Dante’s body began to distort from the inside out.
Vergil frowned slightly.
He felt it imdiately.
This wasn’t just a release of power.
It was a technique.
A technique born from the fusion between Dante’s essence and the fragnts of Lucifer he had absorbed.
A Supre Technique.
Dante raised his face again.
His eyes now glowed with a deep red light.
"Unfortunately..."
His voice echoed across the battlefield, now carrying a monstrous weight.
"...I need your body."
Vergil remained completely still.
Silent.
Dante slowly opened his arms as the demonic energy exploded around him like a supernova.
"Because that damned fragnt of Lucifer..."
His skin began to crack.
Bright lines of infernal energy appeared beneath his flesh.
"...won’t leave his body."
Then the transformation truly began.
Dante’s body grew.
His form violently elongated as bones restructured and muscles expanded as if being rebuilt in real ti. His skin transford into a black, incandescent carapace, crisscrossed by veins of red energy that pulsed like living magma.
Two enormous curved horns grew from his head.
His back split open.
And gigantic wings erged.
Not ordinary wings.
Wings made of solid demonic energy, covered in incandescent patterns reminiscent of infernal circuits carved into the very matter of the Abyss.
His presence exploded.
A monstrous spiritual pressure swept across the battlefield, crushing entire chunks of the coliseum ruins as if they were made of paper.
When the transformation ended...
The creature that now floated before Vergil was sothing very different from Dante.
The demonic form was colossal.
The body seed a fusion between a primordial demon and a living weapon, clad in living black armor that radiated pure infernal energy.
The wings expanded behind him like a demonic eclipse.
And in his hand...
A gigantic blade made of the sa pulsating infernal energy appeared.
Vergil watched it in silence.
His blue eyes analyzed every detail of the new form.
Then he spoke calmly.
"So... this is your Ultimate Technique."
The creature opened its eyes.
The voice that ca from its mouth was deep, echoing like multiple voices speaking at once.
"Sothing like this."
Then he advanced.
The world exploded.
The speed was absurd.
The impact of the first blow destroyed half the battlefield in a single instant. The infernal blade collided with Yamato with enough force to tear the air around them in gigantic shockwaves.
Vergil was thrown backward.
But mid-flight he spun his body and disappeared.
He reappeared above the creature.
Yamato descended in a perfect arc.
The blow severed one of the demonic wings.
But the creature reacted instantly.
The colossal arm moved like thunder and smashed Vergil against the ground with enough force to create a crater hundreds of ters wide.
The explosion of rock and energy shook the entire coliseum.
But a blue flash ripped through the dust imdiately.
Vergil reappeared.
His eyes were now gleaming.
His smile had returned.
"Good."
He slowly spun Yamato around.
The demonic energy around him continued to grow like a sun about to collapse.
"Now it’s interesting."
The creature spread its wings again.
Infernal lightning began to fall around it.
Then it advanced once more.
And the real battle began anew.
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