The hell that followed was simply immeasurable. The women were strong, capable of handling this easily, but... the real issue lay elsewhere.
Vergil let out a heavy sigh, the cold in the air was almost metallic, as the battle dimension filled his lungs.
The pain still throbbed in his chest, but the blade that had pierced him was no longer a concern.
Thanks to his demonic heritage, his body was regenerating quickly, aided by one of his abilities…
Blood manipulation.
He had used everything he had and, thankfully, managed to heal his heart almost immediately after the blade had struck. It was time, the moment had come, and there was nothing left to do but release a warm breath.
A mist of hot air escaped his lips as he listened around him. The sounds of growling, blades being unsheathed, and claws scraping the concrete and asphalt echoed, like the deadly symphony of destruction preparing to play its final, fatal notes.
