Vergil's crooked smile had barely finished forming when Odin moved.
There was no visible preparation, nor any dramatic accumulation of energy that would allow the attack to be predicted. The old king merely adjusted his stance slightly, Gungnir shone in his hand, and in the next instant, reality between them was crossed by a golden line too thin to resemble a real strike. It was so fast that, for a brief moment, Vergil thought nothing had happened.
Then his body gave way.
From the waist upward, the entire left side simply ceased to exist.
Half of his torso vanished along with his arm, ribs, lung, part of his heart, and an entire section of the demonic structure supporting his form. Black and red blood exploded backward, dragged away by the pressure of the strike, while fragments of vaporized flesh and bone disappeared into the air as though they had been erased. The sensation was not only pain.
It was interruption.
