Chapter 792: Quick visit to the pigeons.
The central hall of Eden plunged into an abrupt silence as the voice pierced the celestial walls. It didn’t come from open doors, nor from announced corridors, nor from any angelic trumpet authorizing entry.
It simply emerged throughout the entire space at once, as if the space itself had been forced to transmit words it didn’t wish to carry.
The white marble columns vibrated slightly.
The golden windows tinkled. The dozens of lesser angels scattered throughout the room froze in place.
"Hey, you feathered ones, I come here in peace! I don’t want to kill anyone, I just want to see the seraphim!!"
Uriel stood motionless for a full second, something extremely rare for someone who normally reacted before the problem even finished arising.
His fingers closed on the arm of the side throne until the ornate metal dented under the pressure. Gabriel, on the opposite side, slowly brought his hand to his face, as if already anticipating that the day could still get worse.
The subordinate who had arrived running minutes before paled so much she seemed about to disappear.
"I warned you it was a strange demon..."
Uriel turned his head in a sharp movement.
"Strange?" His voice came out sharp as a blade. "You call THAT strange?"
Before any order could be given, the voice returned, now in a lower, almost casual tone, like someone remembering an important detail in the middle of the conversation.
"Oh, and before you despair..." There was a short pause, then the energy arrived.
A black wave spread through the palace like liquid smoke, running across the floor, climbing the columns, covering the stained glass windows with pulsating shadows. It destroyed nothing. It burned nothing. It attacked no one. What it did was far worse for celestial beings: it dominated presence. The entire environment began to recognize another authority within it.
The protective runes on the walls lit up and failed. Millennial seals vibrated uselessly. Sacred swords on pedestals began to emit sharp sounds of protest. Some younger angels staggered as they felt the spiritual weight of that force landing on their shoulders like an invisible hand.
"I am here as the Knight of Death... not as the Demon King, Vergil Lucifer." The name fell into the hall like a meteorite.
Gabriel slowly lowered his hand from his face.
"Of course," she murmured. "It’s obvious it would be him... And I thought Heavenly Father was joking that he wanted a close relationship..."
Uriel was already standing, wings partially open, eyes blazing with pure fury.
"It’s the second time someone with the surname Lucifer has invaded our dimension. It’s the fucking second time." Uriel spoke, his hands beginning to bleed from clenching so tightly, his nails tearing at his divine skin. "It wasn’t enough that Sephirothy came in here and stole divine energy. Now... This bastard."
—
"Ah... what a pain..." Vergil said, scratching his ear, "I think someone’s talking badly about me... geez, I didn’t even do anything."
Let’s clear things up while Vergil waits for Uriel and Gabriel to come talk to him...
...After killing Ashborn, that monarch linked to death and the army of shadows, Vergil ended up inheriting part of the guy’s cosmic function. Yes, "killed the owner and took the job" seems simplistic, but in essence that’s what it was. The universe sometimes manages important positions like a poorly organized tavern.
So now he was the Death Knight.
More or less.
Technically incomplete, because a Death Knight without a mount is like a king without a crown, a musician without an instrument, or... well, he’s not even a servant of God, so he’s not exactly worthy of holding such a position. He lacked the symbolic beast, the apocalyptic horse, the creature that would consolidate the entire authority of the post. Even so, the power he received was absurd enough to give any attentive pantheon a headache.
Among other things, it gave him a pseudo-authority over the souls of those he killed. Yes, that means exactly what it sounds like. No, he almost never used it. Mainly because Vergil considered necromancy flashy and inelegant. He preferred to cut problems in half rather than command them after death.
—
Back in the hall, Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment.
"He chose to come as a representative of death and not as a demon king."
Uriel gave him an incredulous look.
"Should that calm me down?"
"No," Gabriel replied honestly. "But it means he wants to discuss something specific."
"Or threaten something specific."
"Also."
Once again the voice echoed, now clearly coming from the main corridor.
"Hey, I don’t want to kill anyone, but if you don’t come here— I’m already almost offended."
—
The monumental entrance to Eden seemed even more absurd up close.
Gatees of white gold hundreds of meters high remained ajar, revealing corridors of solid light, hanging gardens, and walls that seemed carved directly from the idea of perfection.
Clouds swirled in orderly layers around the celestial towers, while distant bells vibrated at precise intervals.
It was a place made to inspire automatic reverence. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Vergil didn’t suffer from this problem.
He stood still on the main path as if awaiting poor service at some public counter.
His dark coat moved slightly in the divine wind, Yamato rested sheathed at his waist, and his expression carried the same aristocratic boredom as always.
Sitting on his left shoulder, Lucy swung her small legs in the air, completely comfortable in the worst possible place for a strange child to be.
The dark energy he had released earlier still spread around in subtle veins, staining the golden atmosphere with elegant and irritating shadows. It didn’t destroy anything. It only reminded everyone that another power was present and didn’t ask permission.
Then the sky opened.
Cloud formations parted in perfect lines, and dozens of flashes descended at brutal speed. Silver armor reflected the artificial sun of Eden. Immense wings beat in unison. Spears, swords, and sacred banners cut through the air with impeccable military discipline.
Michael had arrived.
At the head of the angelic army, he landed with enough impact to crack the celestial marble floor. Tall, broad, covered in plates of white armor adorned with vivid inscriptions, Michael carried a long spear whose tip burned with golden fire. Six wings spread behind him cast shadows across the entire staircase. His face was beautiful in the merciless sense of the word: symmetrical, severe, and utterly incapable of tolerating insolence.
Upon seeing Vergil, his expression soured immediately.
Upon seeing Lucy on his shoulder, it worsened.
Upon feeling the dark energy contaminating the entrance, he became pure contempt.
"Vergil Lucifer." His voice resounded like war bells. "Leave Eden now, if you do not wish to face the celestial hosts."
The ranks behind him raised their weapons simultaneously. Hundreds of golden points aimed at the lone demon in the path.
Vergil blinked slowly.
He scratched the side of his face.
And responded with the exact amount of respect expected.
"Blah blah blah annihilation. Blah blah blah facing celestial judgment. Blah blah blah purity, order, discipline." He tilted his head slightly. "You really need to renew the scripts."
The subsequent silence was almost offensive.
Some angels behind Michael seemed physically incapable of processing the casual blasphemy they had just heard. Two of them gripped the shafts of their spears tighter. Another murmured an automatic prayer.
Lucy brought her two little hands to her mouth.
Then she began to laugh.
Not a restrained laugh. Not a polite little child’s giggle.
She cried with laughter.
Sitting on Vergil’s shoulder, she leaned forward, almost losing her balance, while kicking her little feet against his chest.
"Blah blah blah!" she repeated between laughs, imitating Michael’s grandiose tone. "Blah blah blah judgment! Blah blah blah big wings!"
Vergil didn’t stop her.
In fact, he looked away for a second, clearly hiding his satisfaction.
Michael stood motionless.
It was the kind of stillness that precedes catastrophes.
The light around his spear increased abruptly. The air vibrated. The nearby clouds recoiled reflexively. Even the angels behind him took a half-step back, recognizing the murderous intent.
Gabriel, watching from afar in the upper corridor, brought his hand to his face again.
"He really won’t..."
Uriel, beside her, widened his eyes.
"He’s going to throw it at a child."
"Yes."
"I hate everyone today."
Miguel moved his arm.
The spear left his hand like a compressed lightning bolt, straight and absolute, aiming directly at Lucy’s head.
The expected impact never happened.
The weapon stopped in mid-air inches from the girl’s face.
Lucy was still laughing so hard that it took her a full second to realize that a colossal spear was hovering right in front of her nose.
"Oh," she said, touching the gleaming tip with a curious finger.
Around the shaft, a golden aura swirled.
It wasn’t demonic energy.
It wasn’t shadow.
It wasn’t dark telekinesis.
It was pure divine energy, condensed into perfect lines, holding the spear in place like invisible fingers of light.
Miguel froze.
Literally froze.
His eyes widened in a way that perhaps had never happened since his creation. His wings froze mid-movement. His mind was clearly trying to reorganize all available certainties and was failing miserably.
The angels behind him began to murmur in growing panic.
"This is..."
"Impossible."
"He contaminated the light?"
"No, this is legitimate use..."
"Like a demon..."
"LIKE A DEMON?"
Vergil observed the spear suspended in mid-air as one might assess an inconvenient decorative item.
Then he moved two fingers.
The weapon spun elegantly, reversed direction, and floated back towards Michael, handle first.
It stopped before his chest.
"You dropped it."
Michael didn’t pick it up.
He was still too busy trying to understand his own crumbling cosmology.
Uriel appeared at the top of the central staircase, wings spread and aura inflaming the surroundings.
"EXPLAIN THIS NOW."
Vergil looked up at her.
"Good afternoon, Uriel."
"EXPLAIN."
Gabriel appeared beside them, sighing deeply.
"Please explain. Before she tears half the palace apart."
Vergil shrugged.
"Eden continues to dramatically lack calm."
He then lightly touched Lucy’s head, who had finally stopped laughing and was now trying to reach for the spear again.
"She likes shiny things."
"VERGIL." Uriel growled his name as if he were chewing glass.
Vergil let out a short sigh, too patient for someone surrounded by hostility. The kind of sigh a teacher gets when disappointed with students unable to follow a simple explanation. He tilted his head slightly, his silver hair falling over his eyes, and replied with offensive calm.
"Since when do I owe you an explanation?"
The question hung in the air like an elegant slap.
He then completely ignored her fury, as if Uriel were merely part of the hall’s decoration, and continued walking a few steps across the celestial marble. The dark energy surrounding him dragged shadows across the golden floor, corrupting the flawless aesthetics of Eden simply by existing there.
"Now, let’s speed this up." His voice remained serene. "I want to speak with Metatron. He’s more useful than the three of you combined."
Miguel took a half-step forward, indignant. Gabriel merely closed his eyes for a moment, already anticipating disaster. Uriel seemed about to spontaneously explode.
Vergil, oblivious to the drama, calmly bent down and placed Lucy on the ground. The girl immediately grasped his hand joyfully, swinging her feet as if she were on a casual stroll and not in the midst of a diplomatic crisis between heaven and hell.
Vergil raised his face and smiled.
"I also want an audience with the Heavenly Father."
Silence.
Then, like a rehearsed piece performed by overly nervous people, Gabriel, Uriel, and Michael assumed combat stances simultaneously. Wings spread. Weapons raised. Divine aura compressing the surrounding space. The entire hall vibrated with the sudden homicidal intent.
Vergil looked at the three of them, then at Lucy.
"Lucy."
She immediately lifted her little face.
"What are they?"
The girl broke into a huge smile, raised her arms high, and shouted with all the childlike sincerity possible:
"FOOLS!"
The echo echoed through the hall.
Gabriel turned his face away to hide that he almost laughed. Uriel turned white with anger. Michael seemed offended on a spiritual level.
Vergil smiled slightly, satisfied.
"Exactly."
Then the atmosphere changed.
Above Eden, beyond the golden domes and perfect skies, sparkles began to appear. Small at first, like red stars lighting up out of place. Then, hundreds of magic circles appeared simultaneously, enormous runic formations covering the celestial firmament from horizon to horizon.
The ground trembled.
The sacred clouds turned red.
The runes swirled slowly, pulsing with demonic energy so refined it seemed like offensive art. But then something even worse happened.
The red began to turn golden.
Infernal symbols rewrote themselves, changing lines, curves, and meanings. What was profane adapted. What was demonic assimilated the sacred before everyone’s eyes.
Vergil raised an eyebrow, genuinely satisfied.
"Oh."
He observed the sky like an artist admiring his newly finished work.
"I learned something new."
He cracked his neck slowly.
"Demonic runes can become divine."
Michael gripped the spear so tightly that the shaft cracked. Uriel stepped forward with flaming wings. Gabriel murmured something that was probably a prayer for patience.
Vergil simply opened his arms, like a host receiving guests in his own home.
"Well... since I’m here..."
His smile widened, arrogant and dangerously amused.
"Let’s have some fun."
