Vergil stood motionless before the silent vastness of the Black Forest at the End of the World.
The sky above was a blanket of thick clouds, interspersed with strands of purple light that snaked like silent thunder. The forest ahead stretched out like a sea of living shadows—the trees twisted into impossible shapes, and a dense mist undulated between the trunks as if breathing on its own. Each breath of wind carried with it an earthy, ancient scent, like the smell of a world that refused to die.
Vergil kept his eyes fixed on the boundary between the last trace of magical civilization and the beginning of chaos. His fingers gently caressed Zuri's head, which was wrapped around his neck like a living necklace — a white snake with emerald-green eyes, its scales reflecting the light like antique porcelain.
"Why were you hiding?" he asked in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want to break the silence that hung over the forest.
