The room was silent, except for the high-pitched sound of Pandora's tools analyzing Vergil's body. Crystals floated around him, scanning his magical and spiritual constitution with lights that oscillated between shades of blue and gold. Vergil kept his eyes closed, sitting in the lotus position on a magical analysis circle, silently absorbing every word of the conversation taking place miles away between his wives. The false shadow, now broken, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Vergil," Pandora called in a serious tone. "This... this is all wrong."
His eyes opened slowly, a reddish-purple glow crossing his irises before disappearing.
"Wrong how?" he asked, his voice as steady as distant thunder.
Pandora approached with her hands on her hips and an expression somewhere between shock and exasperation.
"How are you still... whole? You have too much inside you. Demnaca magic, death mage, spiritual aura, celestial mana, and now... this."
