Chapter 793: Vergil and Lucy are real demons!
There’s a detail about the term primordial that most creatures use without truly understanding.
For many, primordial simply means ancient, powerful, or predating known civilizations. A beautiful word to decorate legends and frighten historians.
But, on deeper scales of existence, primordial doesn’t describe age. It describes precedence.
Something primordial didn’t just come "before" in time; it came before the rules that would organize time. It’s a category reserved for forces, species, and consciousnesses that were born too close to the origin of things.
Such beings don’t learn about the world as others do.
They recognize it.
While mortals study fire, measure fire, and try to master fire, a primordial entity sees the idea that allowed fire to exist.
While angels recite sacred names and demons carve infernal symbols in stone, a primordial being perceives the invisible structure that made names and symbols possible from the beginning.
That’s exactly what happened when Vergil became an Aethrenox.
Aethernox was not merely a rare race, nor an exotic lineage to impress cosmic genealogists. It was a singular existence, a living category that blended demonic essence, superior authority, metaphysical mutation, and something more difficult to name. Something that did not entirely belong to heaven, hell, void, or matter. A unique race. A primordial race.
And with this ascension came a most dangerous gift.
Understanding of the primordial language.
Not "speaking ancient languages." Not "reading forgotten inscriptions." Nothing so banal. What Vergil received was insight into the grammar that precedes all languages of power. The logical skeleton behind angelic runes, infernal seals, draconic formulas, fey contracts, and arcane geometries.
In simple terms: while everyone else read words, he began to see the source code.
Therefore, his understanding of runes did not increase slightly, gradually, or in a manageable way. It increased millions of times. Symbols that once demanded preparation, focus, and calculation now seemed like childish scribbles. Entire systems of sacred or profane magic revealed ridiculous redundancies. Millennia-old barriers became poorly closed doors.
It was like giving algebra to someone who had been solving everything with pebbles.
In the hall of Eden, no one yet knew the magnitude of the problem.
The heavens remained filled with runic circles that mixed infernal red and divine gold.
Thousands of angels raised weapons in perfect formation. Michael stood at the front with his spear in hand, trying to regain some moral authority after being ridiculed by a child. Uriel burned with contained fury.
Gabriel massaged his temple, perhaps already calculating how many centuries of bureaucracy would be needed to record it all.
Vergil observed the three with an almost offensive calm.
Lucy held his hand and gazed at the sky with a gleam in her eyes, like someone witnessing the finest children’s show ever produced.
"Daddy, it’s beautiful."
Vergil inclined his head slightly.
"Thank you."
Uriel almost choked.
"Don’t thank people for compliments in the middle of an invasion!"
Vergil ignored the remark with utter elegance. Instead, he raised his left hand and slowly spread his fingers. Strands of golden energy began to condense above his palm, but not like traditional angelic light. This energy obeyed in a different way. It bent into precise lines, forming characters that no angel in the hall recognized.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes.
"These symbols... don’t belong in our archives."
"Nor in the infernal ones," murmured Michael, annoyed at having to admit anything useful.
The runes floated around Vergil in perfect orbits. Some looked like letters. Others resembled living equations. Some changed shape when observed directly. Each carried condensed concepts: flow, weight, direction, volume, permanence, fall.
Vergil moved two fingers and more symbols appeared.
Then more.
Then hundreds.
The air became humid.
Nearby angels looked around, confused, as small drops began to appear out of nowhere on their armor. The celestial marble became slippery. The typical scent of Eden was replaced by the smell of heavy rain.
Uriel opened her wings completely.
"What are you doing?"
Vergil answered without even looking at her.
"Experimenting."
The golden runes multiplied across the sky at absurd speeds. Each magic circle above them was filled with new symbols, all connected in sequences that simulated rivers, atmospheric pressure, local gravity, and massive condensation. The very perfect firmament of Eden began to darken.
Clouds were born where there had been no clouds.
Thunder echoed where only serenity existed.
Miguel pointed his spear.
"Hosts! Defensive formation!"
Thousands of wings moved in unison. Shields of light surged forth in layers. Spears were raised. Protective choruses began.
Vergil yawned.
"Noisy."
Then he raised his arm.
The runes spun one last time and meshed like cosmic gears.
He smiled.
"NO NOAH HERE!"
With a swift flick of his hand, the sky tore open.
No rain fell.
Catastrophe fell.
An entire oceanic mass surged above Eden as if a sea had been inverted over the celestial dimension. A colossal tsunami plummeted from the firmament, miles wide, roaring toward the angelic army. Pure water, created by runes, densified by sacred energy, and accelerated by temporarily rewritten laws.
The first impact crushed entire ranks.
Shields of light shattered like thin glass. Angels were dragged across the marble floor, hurled against columns, hanging gardens, and golden walls. The perfect formations vanished in seconds within an impossible aquatic chaos.
Lucy began clapping.
"Little fish! Little fish!"
"There are no fish," Vergil replied, observing the destruction.
"Ah."
Uriel flew forward enveloped in white flames, cutting the wave in two with an arc of burning energy. Water evaporated into tons of vapor, covering half the field of vision. Michael appeared right behind, using his spear to open channels and rescue swept-away troops.
Gabriel just stood there for two seconds, watching the flood devastate the eternal gardens.
"I hate that man so much."
Even saying that, she opened both hands and dozens of seals appeared around her, draining some of the water into dimensional containment portals before the rest of the palace was gone with it.
Vergil watched her work.
"Competent. Irritating, but competent."
"Shut up!" Gabriel shouted without losing his concentration.
The main hall of Eden now looked like a city struck by a natural disaster. Stairways had become torrents. Sacred statues floated sideways. Angelic choirs shouted contradictory instructions as they were swept away by the current.
Some lesser angels clung to columns, weeping.
One of them looked at his colleague and asked, genuinely shaken:
"This... this still counts as spiritual warfare?"
The colleague was swept away before he could answer.
Michael landed before Vergil, his clothes soaked, his wings heavy, and his patience extinguished.
"You flooded Eden."
Vergil tilted his head.
"Technically, I demonstrated versatility."
Uriel landed beside his brother, smoke billowing from his shoulders.
"You used sacred energy to commit hydraulic terrorism."
Vergil thought for a moment. "Excellent phrase. I’ll keep it."
Lucy raised her little hand.
"I liked the water."
"Thank you, Lucy."
Gabriel appeared behind them, completely soaked and furious on an administrative level.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH PAPERWORK THIS WILL GENERATE?"
Vergil seemed to reflect sincerely.
"No. And I intend to keep it that way."
She closed her eyes for a second that was far too long.
"Heavenly Father, give me strength."
From high above the still darkened sky, new runes began to light up.
Miguel’s eyes widened.
"Are you going to make another one?"
Vergil observed the symbols with interest.
"Maybe."
Uriel pointed his sword at him.
"Don’t you dare."
Vergil shrugged.
"Then take me to Metatron."
Silence.
Water ran down the stairs. Angels groaned in the background. A harp floated slowly among the wreckage.
Michael took a deep breath.
Uriel trembled with rage.
Gabriel looked at them both and made the only sensible decision available.
"Take him to Metatron."
Uriel turned abruptly.
"What?"
"What would you prefer? Discovering what comes after a tsunami? A baptismal meteor shower? Sacred frogs?"
Vergil raised a finger.
"The frogs are a good idea."
"SHUT UP!" the three shouted at the same time.
Lucy burst into laughter again.
Vergil, satisfied, took the girl’s hand and began to walk as if nothing relevant had happened. He passed fallen angels, destroyed gardens, and flooded corridors with the tranquility of someone visiting an unimpressive museum.
As he walked, he glanced sideways at Gabriel.
"So. Metatron?"
She pointed ahead without looking at him.
"Central corridor. Last golden door. If you flood the library, I swear I’ll turn into a demon just to hunt you down."
Vergil smiled.
"Promising."
And so, amidst makeshift rivers, humiliated authorities, and newly discovered skies vulnerable to runic engineering, the self-proclaimed Knight of Death proceeded through Eden as if he owned the place.
The worst for everyone present?
He was perhaps beginning to believe so.
The current still flowed down the celestial staircases on multiple levels, transforming pristine corridors into makeshift canals and hanging gardens into small, humiliated archipelagos. Lesser angels scurried to and fro carrying soaked scrolls, wet swords, and a dignity increasingly difficult to locate. Some tried to organize containment lines. Others simply stared at the passing water with the empty gaze of those who had already internally given up.
Vergil walked through the center of that disaster as if he were taking an afternoon stroll.
Lucy walked beside him, taking small leaps to step into the larger puddles. Each splash elicited a satisfied laugh from her. For a child, a flooded Eden was simply more fun than a dry Eden.
Miguel came a few steps behind, rigid as an offended statue. Uriel advanced from the other side with half-closed wings, like someone who needed to remind himself every second not to commit diplomatic homicide. Gabriel led the way ahead, massaging his forehead as he mentally replayed reports, structural damage, and how many apologies would be needed afterward.
Vergil observed a golden harp floating slowly beside a fallen column.
He smiled.
"You really should get an ark."
No one answered immediately.
Perhaps because everyone knew that answering would only encourage him.
Vergil continued, perfectly satisfied with himself.
"The next flood could hit everything."
Gabriel stopped instantly.
He turned so slowly that the water around him seemed to hesitate along with him. His gaze carried the specific expression of someone seriously reconsidering abandoning eternal light to embrace gratuitous violence.
"Next?" she repeated, her voice dangerously calm.
Vergil tilted his head.
"Yes. I like working with thematic continuity."
Uriel clenched his hands until his fingers cracked.
"Are you implying there will be another one?"
"I’m not implying anything." Vergil raised a finger, didactically. "I’m recommending logistical preparation."
Miguel took a deep breath through his nose.
"If there’s a second attack, I’ll personally rip your head off."
Vergil gave him a bored sideways glance.
"Long line. Get a number."
Lucy laughed so hard she almost slipped.
"Number!" she repeated, pointing at Miguel as if it were the best joke of the century.
The archangel of war seemed to age emotionally about fifty years in two seconds.
Gabriel resumed walking before anything worse happened.
"Keep walking. If he opens his mouth again, pretend you didn’t hear him."
"Sensible advice," Vergil commented.
"I wasn’t talking to you."
They continued down the central corridor, now transformed into a shallow river where golden reflections trembled on the surface. Sacred tapestries dripped water from their supports. Venerable statues bore impact marks, and nonexistent algae began to sprout from some absurd runic residue.
A lesser angel ran past carrying a box of books.
He stopped when he saw Vergil.
He paled.
Then he ran even faster.
Vergil observed the scene with genuine curiosity.
"I’m unpopular."
Uriel let out a short, humorless laugh.
"That implies someone already liked you."
Lucy raised her little hand.
"I do!"
Vergil looked at her and nodded solemnly.
"My base of support remains solid."
Gabriel almost stumbled.
Further ahead, enormous white-gold doors stood at the end of the corridor, intact despite the general chaos. Ancient runes gleamed on their surface, filtering water and automatically restoring the surrounding marble. It was such a majestic entrance that it seemed insulted by the mere approach of the group.
Miguel crossed his arms.
"There. Metatron’s Chamber."
Vergil examined the doors for a few seconds.
"Beautiful."
"Don’t touch anything," Gabriel said immediately.
"You know me so poorly."
"Unfortunately, I know quickly."
Vergil smiled again, that small, dangerous smile that always heralded future trouble.
"Just reinforcing my previous suggestion."
Uriel closed his eyes.
"No."
"A large ark."
"No."
"Maybe two. Redundancy is elegant."
"VERGIL."
He finally shrugged and tightened his grip on Lucy’s hand.
"Alright. When it rains sacred seahorses, don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Miguel was silent for a second.
Then he looked at Gabriel.
"Can he do that?"
Gabriel took too long to answer.
"I don’t know."
