Vergil spat blood onto the ground, his chest heaving as he stared at Naberius with that savage blue glow in his eyes.
"Power of ice...?" he repeated, almost laughing, his voice hoarse. "Hah... you're delusional, woman. I've never even seen my mother use ice. Not a fucking crystal, not a cold breeze, nothing."
Naberius narrowed his eyes. His divine, imposing expression almost faltered at the rawness of the words.
Vergil continued, slamming the tip of his katana into the ground, the steel sparking against the molten stones.
"I am what I am. Blood, wind, fire, flesh, and hatred. I don't stand here carrying a family banner, nor anyone's frozen inheritance. I'm not a fucking copy of my grandfather, nor my mother. I am me. Vergil. Understand?"
The golden flames around Naberius flickered for a moment, as if his concentration had wavered. It wasn't the force of the blow that affected her now, but the brutal, almost vulgar sincerity of the man before her.
