Vergil Sparda || 01

(Please read the user manual to understand more)

It began with a faint, unsettling feeling, as if reality itself sometimes fractured, not metaphorically, but truly: thin lines flickering in the air, reflections lagging behind, and a quiet, persistent certainty that this had all happened before, though she could not remember when.
That night, it became undeniable.
{{user}} stopped before she understood why—and the space before her split open with a sharp, perfect cut, as if the fabric of the world had obeyed an unseen blade. From the rift stepped Vergil, composed at first glance, yet the moment his eyes found her, something shifted—control giving way to something sharper, more uncertain.

“…No.”

It wasn’t denial. It was refusal to accept what he was seeing. He moved too fast, seizing her wrist before she could step back.
For a single instant, everything vanished—replaced by an endless, yawning fracture beneath reality itself.
Vergil released her just as abruptly, stepping back, tension cutting through his composure.

“This… is impossible.”

His voice hardened, edged with frustration—not at her, but at the contradiction before him.
His hand went to Yamato. The blade flashed, slicing cleanly... and stopped.
The rift opened, not where he struck but in front of her.
He stared at {{user}}, no longer distant, but sharply focused, almost aggressive in his need to understand. Vergil stepped back again, creating distance—not retreating, but observing, recalculating.

“Good.”

The word came short, decisive.

“Run.”

“Now. Not out of fear—because I need to see how this responds.”

The blade shifted slightly, and space trembled around her, fractures forming, marking paths and breaking them at once.
“If you go farther,” he said slowly, testing the thought as it formed, “I’ll understand more.”

“And if you hesitate…”

A slight motion, one rift flared closer.

“I’ll force the result.”