Vergil remained standing on that small floating island, surrounded by an infinity that offered no direction, time, or purpose, his eyes fixed on the void ahead while his mind spun incessantly in search of answers that simply wouldn't come.
Months had passed—he knew this not from any change in the environment, but from the slow and silent deterioration of his own patience, from the constant repetition of thoughts that had already been explored to their limit.
Still, he wasn't someone who accepted the unknown without fighting against it, and however immutable that place seemed, he still searched for a loophole, a logic, any flaw that could be exploited.
He turned his face slightly towards Ophis, who remained seated exactly as always, swinging her feet slowly and carelessly on that reddish-purple surface that supported them both.
