Vergil spat blood from his mouth. "Why couldn't it have missed?"
Vergil's eyes flickered to his abdomen where the final light spear Seron threw had pierced him.
His thoughts became a raging storm, scattered like leaves. Everything happened so fast.
One moment he was standing, blood spraying from his face and the next, he was falling into darkness. The wind howled against him — fluttering the tattered remains of his clothes.
His gaze hazed over like static. The pain rivalling his final moments on earth.
It wasn't just his abdomen, his whole midsection was aflame — tearing an ugly wound. Blood gushed out in unrelenting, thick streams that soaked his torn tunic.
He couldn't breathe properly, his lungs succumbing to the weight of reality.
His eyes flickered to what concerned him most—his arm.
