The room was plunged into a tense silence, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor. Vergil remained seated in a dark leather armchair, legs crossed, his gaze lost in the void—or rather, pretending to be.
In front of him, Sapphire and Sepphirothy argued as if their very fate depended on it. And, in a way, it did.
"You're not going to bow your head to any of them, Vergil!" Sapphire's voice cut through the air like a blade, firm, almost furious. "They think they're untouchable, but you owe nothing to any god!"
The woman with red hair and green eyes gestured intensely, pacing back and forth, her boots making the floor vibrate with each step. There were sparks in her eyes—the kind of gleam that only comes from someone who truly believes in what they say.
