Chapter 421: Hardworking Maid

The red mist of the magic circle dissipated with a soft arcane crackle, and Vergil stepped onto the cold dark marble floor. The air in Agares Manor was silent, but different from last time—it no longer smelled of soot and dried blood.

He walked slowly through the main hall. It was impossible not to notice: the place where there had once been a gigantic hole in the wall—a reminder of a brutal attack—was now perfectly restored. The marble had been rebuilt, the windows re-erected with their enchanted stained glass, and even the pillars once again bore the demonic carvings that gave the house its unique touch of perverse royalty.

Vergil ran his hand along the banister of the staircase, analyzing the finish. Not bad. It almost seemed as if nothing had happened.

But there was something that caught his attention: absolute silence.

He frowned, looking from side to side, and then raised his voice softly: “Is anyone home?”

For a moment, the sound echoed between the walls of the newly rebuilt room. He was about to climb the steps when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps upstairs, accompanied by a faint sound of something falling.

Soon after, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Ah!” exclaimed Viviane, half surprised, half embarrassed.

She descended the stairs with some haste, wearing an outfit that Vergil would never have imagined seeing her in. A thick fabric jumpsuit, an apron stained with paint—one red, one silver, and even a strip of metallic blue near the hip—and in her hands, a magic paint roller that was still dripping slightly.

Her hair, tied up in a makeshift bun, had a few strands stuck to her forehead with sweat. And yet, there was something fascinating about that woman — something undeniably beautiful in her momentary simplicity.

Vergil raised an eyebrow and smiled discreetly.

“And I thought I had seen it all. I never imagined that my lovely maid would show up dressed as a construction worker.”

Viviane, upon hearing this, blushed to the tips of her ears. She snorted and looked away, unable to suppress an irritated smile.

“Magic doesn’t solve everything,” she muttered as she carefully finished descending the stairs. “I managed to rebuild the wall structure with restoration spells, yes… but paint? Well, the paint didn’t want to cooperate with magic at all. I would have to use alchemy and… honestly, it’s easier to paint by hand.”

She dropped the roller on a stand and collapsed into one of the armchairs in the room.

“I worked so hard on this Walpurgis that I deserve an eternal vacation,” she grumbled, stretching her legs and leaning her head back, letting out a long sigh.

Vergil laughed, approaching slowly. Silently, he walked behind the armchair where she sat, observing her state—exhausted, sweaty, but with a genuinely satisfied aura of accomplishment. He bent down slightly, and without saying anything, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest with an affection he rarely showed so directly.

“I understand the fatigue. But we may have a new little job ahead of us,” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against the back of her neck.

Viviane opened her eyes slowly, looking sideways at him with comical suspicion.

“If this ‘work’ involves anything that will drain my energy, please let me know before I get up, I’m completely exhausted,” she said with a theatrical groan.

“We don’t know yet if it will be that big. But… it could be,” Vergil replied with a crooked smile.

She grimaced in pure discouragement. “Sure. What is it now?”

Vergil then stood up slightly and walked around the armchair, stopping in front of her. His expression became more serious, reflecting the weight of the information he carried. “Paimon showed up. He brought the two remaining fragments of Excalibur.”

Viviane raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“The last two?” She sat up straight in her chair, her fatigue disappearing for a moment. “That means all seven fragments are now together.”

“Yes,” Vergil confirmed. “Three with me, three with her. The last one… probably absorbed by me when I destroyed Spectre.”

Viviane closed her eyes for a moment, taking in the information.

“What a problem…” Viviane murmured, “I can already imagine the idea that Paimon and the Archons had… They want you to…”

“Yes. Paimon suggested that we rebuild the blade. She, Amon, Astaroth, and Phenex think it would be dangerous to leave the fragments loose again. And even more so to try to destroy them. The proposal is clear: to forge a new Excalibur. Not a replica. But… a reformed incarnation, unified through me.”

Viviane didn’t answer right away. She got up from her chair and began to walk slowly across the lobby, her mind already processing possibilities and risks. She was a strategist, and behind her charm and delicacy lay a mind as sharp as a blade and a heavy hammer that could forge anything.

“Hmm… Excalibur is not just a weapon. It is a symbol. A catalyst for absolute ideals. If it is rebuilt and linked to you, it will be marked by everything you are. And well, considering that it is probably already corrupted, I don’t see many impediments. If it were just a divine sword, you would die easily, but fortunately… Well, let’s say you already have Yamato with one of the fragments… That makes it much simpler to join and absorb the remaining fragments.”

Viviane continued pacing back and forth, her footsteps echoing softly on the newly restored marble. The magical dust from the painting still lingered subtly in the air, but she no longer seemed to notice. Now, her gaze was fixed on nothing, her eyes half-closed, as if she were mentally leafing through hundreds of ancient grimoires and treatises in search of answers and precedents.

“Right…” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “We know that Excalibur is not just a blade of war. It is an archetypal catalyst. It carries concepts: justice, purity, righteousness… things that, let’s be honest, you don’t exactly represent in the traditional sense. But…”

She turned, pointing at Vergil as if she had reached a key point.

“…but the fact that you have already absorbed a fragment without being obliterated says a lot. A lot. Yamato, by its nature of division and balance, served as a receptacle. The blade did not resist… it accommodated itself.”

Vergil nodded, arms crossed, watching each conclusion closely.

“And that’s important. Because if it has already accepted Yamato, and Yamato accepts you, then… part of Excalibur’s essence is already molded to your spiritual spectrum. This opens up space for the other fragments to join without causing an immediate collapse. The resistance will be less. But…”

She paused. She looked at the floor thoughtfully, then looked up at him, more serious.

“…it doesn’t mean it will be easy. Total fusion is not just a matter of magical power or spiritual affinity. We are talking about the reconstruction of a mystical entity that, in its original form, was practically a conscious manifestation of the celestial order. The process will affect the ethereal planes. If something goes wrong…”

“A cataclysm,” Vergil completed, with a slight nod. “I figured.”

“A dimensional cataclysm, perhaps. Or a rupture of your soul. Or the creation of a new entity… or a temporal distortion. We are dealing with primary energy channeled by fragments that have been separated for ages and have undergone different corruptions. Unifying them into a single body can generate stability… or total destruction.”

Viviane took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair, undoing the improvised bun. The red strands fell over her shoulders, and she raised her head, her eyes shining with determination.

“It’s possible. I’m not saying it isn’t. But the ritual must be done with planning, safety, isolation, and containment. We need a location far from any inhabited area. A place that can withstand failure—and that won’t collapse if the blade awakens… wrong.”

“Anywhere in mind?” asked Vergil.

Viviane narrowed her eyes, reflecting for a few more moments. Her fingers drummed against her arm as she weighed the risks and variables. Then, as if fitting the last piece of an ancient puzzle into place, she looked up at Vergil with the confidence of someone who had a ready answer.

“In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean,” she said, with calm assurance. “In neutral waters, far from fixed portals and far from any human, demonic, or fae city. Nothing nearby that can be consumed or distorted if something goes wrong.”

Vergil raised an eyebrow slightly. “Absolute isolation.”

“Exactly,” she nodded. “Not a living soul within miles. If an ethereal explosion occurs, it will dissipate in the water. If a planar distortion forms, it will be much easier to anchor it in the emptiness of the sea than in soils laden with history or residual magic. And if you… fail or get lost in the process, Excalibur will find nothing around to contaminate or dominate. No heaven, no hell. Just silence.”

He walked a little way to the window, watching the stained glass with its cool colors reflected on his face. “I agree. It’s a good choice. But we need a structure. An arcane circle as a base. And dimensional anchoring. I can’t just throw myself into the sea with seven fragments and expect everything to align.”

Viviane was already ahead of him on that point. “I thought about that. We can conjure an altar on a submerged rock I know—an ancient island sealed between layers of magical mist. It doesn’t appear on mundane maps or infernal charts. The place was once used by the Atlanteans in an ascension ritual… and abandoned after it went wrong.”

“Sounds perfect,” Vergil said with a crooked smile. “The more cursed, the more propitious.”

Viviane crossed her arms. “Exactly the kind of magical irony you attract. But we can work with that. I’ll need three days to prepare everything. Four, if you want guarantees.”

He turned to her, his eyes shining with a rare mixture of confidence and apprehension. “Make it four. I want guarantees.”

Viviane nodded. “Then we have a plan. And if everything goes wrong… well, at least we’ll have a beautiful view of the apocalypse on the open sea.”

Vergil smiled. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

“It’s a talent,” she replied with a sigh, already mentally calculating the circles, stabilization seals, and minor energy sacrifices she would need.