Chapter 448: Next Time, You Die.

Vergil looked at Titania, now lying among burnt leaves and fragments of shattered runes. She was panting with rage, her small hands clenched into fists, her wings trembling with effort, not from weakness, but from frustration. Magical sparks still escaped from her hair like stubborn embers. Her face, once radiant and majestic, was now a mixture of fury, humiliation, and confusion.

Vergil just sighed.

With the weary look of someone who had seen this kind of pride before—and survived them all—he spoke in a deep, calm voice: “You can hate me all you want, Titania. I don’t give a damn. But if you want to get out of this damn place so badly… you’d better start cooperating.”

She tried to get up, stumbling over a blackened root. Her eyes, still flaming, fixed on his with pure contempt.

“Never,” she spat. “I would never trust a Lucifer!”

Vergil didn’t respond immediately. He just watched her for a few long seconds. Then his expression softened—not out of compassion, but out of boredom.

“Fine,” he said, in an almost indifferent tone.

He snapped his fingers and the dark mist dissipated. The seal of death energy was gone. Titania fell to her feet on the ground, free.

“You’re free,” he said, turning his back on her. “Do whatever you want.”

He began walking toward the woods, passing twisted branches and charred trees, as if the confrontation had never happened.

“I don’t care.”

For a moment, Titania stood frozen. Confused. As if the script of her own indignation had been torn up right in front of her. Her eyes widened, the red glow flickering in her pupils. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Vergil’s footsteps receding into the forest.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IT DOESN’T MATTER?!” she shouted, her voice reverberating magically across the clearing, like miniature thunder.

Vergil stopped. He didn’t even bother to turn his face.

“You know what?” he said, with the tone of someone who has given up arguing with stubborn people. “There’s no reason to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

He finally looked over his shoulder, his eyes half-closed, but shining with something colder and older than anger.

“I was just being… merciful. Helping someone I met. Someone who was also trapped. But if you prefer this damn hole, this damp and rotten prison made of dead roots and broken dreams… go ahead.”

Zuri, standing a few feet behind, remained silent. Her eyes darted between the two of them fearfully.

Titania, still open-mouthed, shook her head in disbelief.

“You think you can blackmail me with compassion? That you’ll drag me back into the world as if I were some wounded animal?”

Vergil shrugged. “I’m not dragging you anywhere.”

He started walking again.

“I’m going to explore this forest. Find out what’s corrupting this place, find a way out. With or without you. I only gave you one chance. Because despite everything… you seem to know more than you pretend to. And because, somewhere deep inside that shattered ego, I think there’s still something of you that hasn’t been crushed by this world.”

Titania didn’t answer. She just gritted her teeth, still trembling, still trying to absorb the inverted logic Vergil was offering her. Wasn’t he the one who should be begging for forgiveness? For help? Wasn’t he the descendant of Lucifer, the symbol of everything she swore to hate?

“But one thing,” he added, his tone now hardening like stone. “Attack again… and I won’t hesitate.”

He stopped and turned, his gaze so icy that even the nearby vegetation seemed to recoil.

“I’ll kill you. For real.”

Titania felt a strange chill. Not fear of death, but of the coldness with which he had said it. No anger. No pleasure. Just a natural observation. As if killing someone were as easy as turning on a light switch.

“Don’t be fooled by my calmness,” said Vergil. “Someone with a very big heart… but I was raised by a woman who taught me my worth very well. Mercy is a luxury for someone who attacks me. You had your chance. From now on… there will be no second chance. It’s certain death.”

The silence returned, thick.

Zuri pulled her coat collar up nervously.

Titania lowered her gaze for a moment. Pride still pulsed within her, but now mixed with something she hadn’t felt in centuries: uncertainty. It wasn’t just his power. It was the way he used it. As if it were all just an extension of the boredom of existence. And that… that was scarier than any magic.

She said nothing when Vergil disappeared into the trees.

Zuri hesitated, looked at the little fairy still standing there, then ran after him. When she caught up with him, walking among the vines and roots, she whispered:

“Do you think she’ll follow us?”

“She will,” Vergil replied without looking back. “She’ll play hard to get and hide to see if I’m like Lucifer. But she’ll eventually give in and accept the reality that her trauma is distorting.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He smiled slightly, almost imperceptibly. “Because what she hates most… is being alone. She was a queen, her life was always revolving around others. She hates being alone, so she created a golem.”

Vergil stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long, lazy yawn. The sound contrasted grotesquely with the weight of what he had just said. It was as if the death warning, the tension between the three, and the smell of ashes in the air were nothing more than a minor setback in his day.

He shrugged his shoulders, cracking bones that seemed more accustomed to violence than rest.

“Right,” he muttered, as if finally deciding to get out of bed on a cold morning. “Time to get to work.”

Zuri, still trying to keep up with the thoughts spinning like broken gears, stopped beside him.

“What are you going to do?”

Vergil closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“Search… and destroy.”

In the next instant, his aura expanded.

Not like a gale or an explosion, but like a black tide that was simply there—inevitable, dense, ancient. It began as a whisper in the leaves, then a shiver in the branches, until the entire forest seemed to hold its breath. The earth pulsed beneath his feet. The insects fell silent. The light between the treetops darkened slightly, as if the sun were afraid to look directly at him.

A wave of demonic energy rose from Vergil’s body like living smoke. It was not a simple manifestation of power—it was presence. An invisible shadow that spread to every corner of the forest, infiltrating roots, rocks, streams, the cracks between ancient, rotting trees. It was as if he were imprinting his existence on the ecosystem itself, like ink spilled on rice paper.

“This… this is…”—Zuri cowered, her eyes wide. “It’s as if you’re touching everything…”

Vergil smiled, without opening his eyes.

“I am. I am marking, feeling, listening. Everything that breathes, moves, or tries to hide. No secret survives when hell pays attention.”

With every second, his energy expanded further. Small creatures scurried, shadows stirred, and from deep within the forest came echoes—not sounds, but impressions. Something felt his touch. Something ancient. Something that did not want to be found.

Vergil raised his hand slowly, and the energy responded like an obedient tide, molding itself around him in small dark filaments that undulated like snakes.

“Everything in this place is rotten. It’s not just a curse. It’s a corruption with consciousness. It’s alive. It feeds. It adapts.”

He opened his eyes. Now they weren’t just eyes—they were flaming slits of amber, crossed by slowly spinning black rings, like black holes in orbit.

“But now… it senses me too.”

Zuri took half a step back.

“Are you provoking this thing?”

“No,” he replied with a cold smile. “I’m challenging it.”