Chapter 452: Time for Mass Extermination

“Do you have a plan?” asked Zuri, trying to keep up with the leap from tree to tree with wide eyes.

“Of course I do.”

“Liar. You’re improvising as usual!”

“Improvising is a plan. It just… adapts in real time.”

The spider leaped.

Vergil barely had time to throw himself to the side when the creature’s fangs came down like guillotines, digging into the ground with a crash that opened deep cracks. The eggs on his back pulsed even faster—as if vibrating in rage… or in a sign of imminent birth.

“If any more of them come out of her, I swear I’ll faint,” said Zuri, trembling, her eyes half-closed.

“Then close your eyes, because this is going to get ugly.”

Vergil plunged his flaming spear into the ground, and an incandescent line snaked out from the impact, forming a circle of embers around the spider. The heat rose, the trees crackling as if they were gnashing their teeth. The creature hesitated—instinctively retreating. The fire, though not lethal to it, was a problem.

“We have a window,” Vergil muttered, and took off.

He ran in a zigzag pattern, dancing between the creature’s colossal legs as if he had trained to fight inside a nightmare. The spear cut through the air with brutal precision, striking the joints of the legs with wet cracks. The blood that spurted out was thick, whitish, with a sickly milky sheen.

A blow came from above—a leg trying to crush him like a nail. Vergil slid underneath, spinning on the ground and driving the spear into the creature’s swollen abdomen, opening a new wound that released an acidic vapor.

The spider screamed.

It wasn’t a sound—it was a vibration. A high-pitched, alien scream that made the surrounding leaves wither in an instant.

Zuri let out a groan. “Was that a scream?! My internal organs vibrated. My liver just quit!”

“She’s feeling it now,” Vergil replied, a fierce gleam in his eyes. “Let’s see how much she can take.”

And then he leaped.

With a sure thrust, he landed on the creature’s back, among the translucent eggs that pulsed like living bubbles. Without hesitation, he plunged his spear into the first one.

Zuri’s eyes widened. “VERGIL, NO—!”

POP!

The first egg exploded in a jet of black smoke and boiling slime. The second followed. And the third. In a matter of seconds, a dozen burst, spitting out miniature larvae, screaming in flames, falling in droves like living meteors.

Zuri let out a scream. “YOU BLOW UP THE BABIES?!”

Vergil fell back to the ground with an elegant spin, smiling like a lunatic. “They were born in fire. And to fire they returned.”

The spider staggered.

Now it was ablaze. The eggs burned like torches, the carapace cracking under the heat. It roared—or something close to it—and rose one last time, colossal and completely out of control. Wounded. Blinded by pain. Out of control.

Vergil spun his spear, the flames enveloping it in dancing spirals.

“Time to turn off the lights, mama.”

In one last leap, he lunged forward, concentrating all the weight and momentum of the blow into a single point. The spear pierced the creature’s head with a dull thud. The spider shuddered, its legs twitched, and then it collapsed—falling with a thud that shook the ground, raising a cloud of dust and soot.

Silence.

For a moment, everything stood still.

Zuri, still wrapped around his neck, opened one eye cautiously. “Is she… dead?”

Vergil pulled the spear from the charred skull with a snap.

“She tried to kill me,” he said, wiping the tip of the weapon on the skin of his victim. “I just responded with… alternative diplomacy.”

Zuri let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I swear, if another mother shows up now, I’ll become the villain of this story myself.”

Vergil gave a crooked smile. “You need to relax more.”

She stared at him in utter disbelief. “Statistically, hanging out with you is what’s going to kill me.”

He shrugged, as if he didn’t see the problem, and pointed to the trail of destruction ahead.

“Then let’s see what else this forest of wonders has to offer.”

Vergil stepped forward with renewed confidence, the flaming spear still glowing in his hand, his eyes sparkling with that chaotic curiosity that only he seemed to possess. Zuri, though covered in soot and clearly traumatized, remained wrapped around his neck like a stressed necklace.

But then… the ground shook.

At first, it seemed like just the echo of the mother spider’s body still settling into the ground, its warm entrails releasing steam like a smoldering corpse. Vergil hesitated, one foot suspended in the air. Then came the sound. It wasn’t a normal noise—it was a crescendo. A repeated rhythm. Many, many beats. Something marching.

Or rather… many things marching.

Zuri raised her head, her eyes narrowing like blades. “Vergil…”

“I know.”

“Are you hearing what I’m hearing?”

Vergil tilted his head slightly, his ears alert. The sound of multiple legs hitting the dry ground was like rain on a metal roof. But rain that approached in a steady rhythm. Organized. Fierce.

Zuri swallowed hard. “Something’s coming.”

“Something?”

She curled up even more, her voice coming out in a forced whisper. “Vergil… turn around. Now.”

He turned around.

And for a moment, even he—the incorrigible, reckless, explosive Vergil—was silent.

The forest before him seemed to breathe. The shadows pulsed. The branches trembled—not because of the wind, but because of the weight. Of the crowd.

Hundreds.

Perhaps more than a thousand.

Spiders. All of the same type he had just killed. Some smaller, some much larger. All with black obsidian shells, eyes glowing milky white, and backs swollen with pulsing eggs. They moved with murderous silence, knocking down small trees, tearing webs and leaves as they passed.

A veritable army of hellish arachnids.

“Zuri,” he muttered as the first row of spiders climbed the trunk of a fallen tree. “I don’t think I’ve annoyed just one.”

“YOU THINK?!”

“Calm down. Maybe they’re just… passing through.”

The spiders stopped at the same time. Hundreds of white eyes turned to him.

Vergil sighed. “Okay. They’re not just passing through.”

“You exterminated their mother and blew up the eggs in her chest as if it were a triumphant entrance into hell,” said Zuri, struggling. “There’s no room for ‘alternative diplomatic talks’ here! We’re going to DIE!”

“Maybe they’ll accept a sincere apology?”

“You DON’T KNOW HOW TO APOLOGIZE!”

“I can try… mime it.”

“Vergil!”

They advanced.

The ground shook again, this time harder. The front rows began to run with a relentless pounding of paws, like a living avalanche. Smaller trees fell, webs flew through the air like shattered veils. The entire forest turned into a nightmare of paws, fangs, and eyes.

Vergil took a deep breath.

“Zuri?”

“What?!”

“Time to improvise.”

“YOU DON’T—”

But he was already running.

Vergil turned his back and ran like never before. He jumped over the carcass of the dead spider, dodged charred branches, slid down a slime-covered slope. The spiders were coming after him—some jumping from tree to tree, others advancing like war tanks. And worst of all, some of them had rudimentary wings.

“The spiders are EVOLVING!?” Zuri screamed, terrified. “This is Satan’s Jurassic Park!”

“Don’t look back, Zuri!”

“I HAVE EYES ON THE SIDES OF MY HEAD, I’M ALWAYS LOOKING BACK!”

One of the monsters fell in front of them, fangs ready. Vergil spun in the air and plunged his spear right between the creature’s eyes, using the momentum to launch himself over it before the body fell. The creature didn’t even scream—it just burst like a demonic balloon.

“You killed another one!” Zuri squealed.

“It was in the way!”

“YOU’RE BECOMING A SPIDER GENOCIDAL MANIAC!”

“There are worse titles out there.”

The trail narrowed, the trees grew closer. Vergil ran between them, but the webs made everything difficult. Some stuck to his arms, others to his legs, and a huge one clung to his face as if trying to cover his eyes.

“Vergil, cut this crap!”

He pulled a fire dagger from his waist and spun, clearing the way with an incandescent crack.

Further ahead, he saw an opening — a clearing. A chance.

“There!” he shouted.

“And after the clearing?!” asked Zuri, desperate.

“I haven’t planned that far yet!”

“YOU’RE IMPROVISING!”

“It’s a DYNAMIC plan!”

They reached the clearing in a leap, their feet sliding on the dusty, pollen-covered ground.

But the spiders didn’t stop.

The surrounding trees exploded into splinters as the creatures emerged from all sides.

Vergil slammed his spear into the ground—an explosion of fire spread out in a defensive circle, pushing the creatures back for just a few seconds. Enough to breathe. But not enough to escape.

They surrounded him. Hundreds of them. An ocean of eyes and fangs closing in around him.

Zuri, for the first time in a long time, fell silent. Her eyes locked with his, wide, without a joke ready, without sarcasm.

“Vergil… we’re not getting out of this.”

He twirled the spear in his hand, as if still calculating possibilities. He looked around. No way out. No plan. No real hope.

And then… he stopped.

He furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute…”

Zuri’s eyes widened. “What now?!”

“Why am I running anyway?”

She blinked, not understanding. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

“Seriously,” he said, tapping his forehead lightly with his hand, thoughtfully. “I’m strong, the demon king, son of the strongest primordial… and yet here I am, running with my tail between my legs.”

Zuri was speechless. The expression on her snake-like face said it clearly: He didn’t do it.

But Vergil was already smiling, that smile of someone who had just had a terrible—and brilliant—idea.

“Hmm… I wonder if I can extract shadows from spiders?” he muttered to himself, looking around. “They’re disgusting, violent, and full of ancestral trauma… they should make a great broth.”

He turned to face the horde again, his eyes shining with new energy.

“More shadows… more power…” He laughed. “It’s a terrible idea. But definitely… it’s a good idea.”

Zuri screamed. “You’re crazy! This is a cannibalistic arachnid cult, not a demonic energy buffet!”

“Ah, but think of the dark flavor,” he replied, snapping his fingers with satisfaction. “Demonic spiders smoked with the essence of maternal fury. Vintage.”

“I’M GOING TO DIE WITH YOU MAKING JOKES!”

Vergil raised his spear, spinning it slowly, and the fire at its tips mingled with a dark aura, thick as living smoke.

He smiled at the crowd. “Let’s see what you’re made of. Literally.”

Vergil’s supreme demonic aura poured out like a red sea, “time for the mass extermination of an entire race, poetic.”