The corridors of Amon’s palace were silent in an almost unnatural way, as if the very air respected the presence of that place and avoided any unnecessary disturbance. The dark walls, adorned with ancient inscriptions that pulsed softly with demonic energy, reflected a history too long to be told in simple words. It was a place of power, of stability, of absolute control—and at that moment, everything there seemed... calm.

Amon walked slowly through the main hall.

His steps were measured, steady, echoing softly off the black marble beneath his feet. His posture remained impeccable, erect, as it always had been, his hands clasped behind his back while his eyes scanned the surroundings without really needing to. He knew every inch of that palace. Every detail. Every flow of energy.

Nothing escaped his control.

Or at least... nothing should.

There had been a strange tranquility in recent days. Not true peace, but a pause—like the interval between two notes in a melody that clearly hadn’t yet ended. Since Dante’s fall, since Vergil’s rise, the Underworld seemed... cautious.

Observing.

Waiting.

And Amon didn’t like it.

He paused for a brief moment before one of the enormous windows overlooking the farthest reaches of his territory. Outside, the demonic horizon stretched in dark, deep tones, punctuated by colossal structures and dense energy that moved like living mist.

Everything seemed... normal.

But that didn’t reassure him.

On the contrary.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Too quiet..." he murmured to himself, his voice low, laden with a suspicion that hadn’t yet taken concrete form, but was already present.

And then—

The sound.

Hurried footsteps.

Disordered.

Wrong.

Amon didn’t need to turn around immediately. He already knew this wasn’t something common. None of his subordinates would dare run like that inside his palace without an extremely urgent reason.

Or extremely serious.

The door at the back of the hall burst open, completely shattering the silent harmony of the room, and a lesser demon practically stumbled as he entered, his body slightly leaning forward, as if he had run more than he should have... more than he could.

He was panting.

Agitated.

Frightened.

Amon turned his face slowly.

And just that look—

It was enough to freeze the subordinate in place for a full second.

But the fear that brought him there was greater than the fear of his lord.

"Lord Amon—!" he began, his voice faltering slightly before stabilizing. "We... we just received a report directly from the border of the Void Crater—!"

Amon said nothing.

But his attention was now completely on him.

Totally.

Absolutely.

"Continue." His voice came out calm, but laden with a weight that forced each word to be chosen carefully.

The demon swallowed hard.

"It was confirmed by multiple sentinels... it’s not a mistake... it’s not a distortion—" he took a deep breath, as if gathering courage to say it aloud. "He was seen."

A brief silence fell.

Dense.

Heavy.

And then—

Amon asked.

"Who?"

Simple.

Direct.

But there was something in the way he said it... a dark expectation, as if a part of him already knew the answer and was just waiting for confirmation.

The subordinate hesitated for a second.

And that... said it all.

"...the Knight of War." he finally said.

The impact of those words wasn’t immediately visible.

There was no explosion of energy.

There was no exaggerated reaction.

But—

Amon stopped moving.

Completely.

His eyes, which until then had maintained a calculated calm, lost that absolute stability for an instant.

And something... changed.

His expression didn’t contort.

There was no scream.

There was no anger.

But the color in his face—

Disappeared.

"..."

The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the air around him.

The lesser demon didn’t dare continue.

He didn’t even dare breathe too loudly.

Because he felt it.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Amon remained motionless for a few seconds that seemed too long to be just seconds. His thoughts quickly reorganized, analyzing possibilities, discarding errors, recalculating everything he thought he knew about the current state of the Underworld.

And none of the answers that emerged... were good.

"...details." He finally said, his voice still calm—but now... lower.

Deeper.

More dangerous.

The subordinate nodded quickly, as if he had been expecting it.

"He was seen walking around the Void Crater..." he began, trying to keep his voice steady. "No hurry... no apparent hostility... just... walking."

Amon closed his eyes for a brief moment.

That didn’t help.

That made it worse.

"And then?" he asked.

The demon hesitated again.

But he answered.

"He... stopped at the edge," he said, swallowing hard. "He stood there for a few minutes. The sentinels said the surrounding environment began to... change. The energy became unstable, as if reacting to his presence."

Of course it reacted.

It always reacted.

"And then?" Amon pressed.

The subordinate took a deep breath.

"He mounted."

A pause.

"His horse."

Another pause.

Heavier.

"...and jumped."

The silence that followed wasn’t just an absence of sound.

It was... understanding.

Complete.

Irreversible.

Amon opened his eyes again.

And this time—

There was no doubt in them.

There was no uncertainty. Just... conclusion.

"The Knight of War..." he repeated, almost to himself, his voice now carrying a gravity that hadn’t been present before.

He turned slowly, moving away from the window as he began to walk again—but now his steps were no longer contemplative.

They were... purposeful.

Quick.

Decisive.

"The Knight of War doesn’t appear..." he continued, more to the surroundings than to his subordinate, "...unless there’s a clear purpose."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"...and that purpose is always the same."

The lesser demon didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He knew.

Everyone knew.

Amon stopped again.

This time in the center of the hall.

And for a brief moment—

He was silent.

As if accepting something.

As if... confirming something he had been trying to avoid ever since that name was uttered. And then he spoke.

"...war."

The word hung heavy in the air.

Final.

Definitive.

Because this wasn’t speculation.

It wasn’t a possibility.

It was certainty.

The Knight of War wasn’t an omen.

He wasn’t a messenger.

He was... the beginning.

And if he had launched himself into the Crater of the Void—

Then it was already in motion.

It had already begun.

Amon slowly raised his gaze.

And for the first time since that news arrived—

There was something beyond control in his expression.

Something deeper.

More ancient.

More... worried.

"A calamity..." he murmured, almost inaudibly.

But it wasn’t just any calamity.

It wasn’t a territorial dispute.

It wasn’t an ordinary war between demonic factions.

It was something bigger.

Something involving forces that didn’t appear without reason.

Something that... changed structures.

That redefined hierarchies.

That destroyed certainties.

And worse—

That happened... regardless of anyone’s will.

Amon took a deep breath.

And then turned back to his subordinate.

"Send immediate orders to all external divisions," he said, his voice returning to that firm, authoritative, unquestionable tone. "I want continuous reports of any changes in the Crater. No information should be filtered."

The demon nodded quickly.

"Yes, my lord!"

"And more..." Amon continued, his eyes now carrying absolute focus. "Activate the maximum level containment protocols."

The subordinate hesitated for a second.

That... wasn’t something common.

But he didn’t question it.

"Immediately!"

He turned to run off again—

But he stopped.

Because Amon spoke once more.

"...and prepare the internal defenses."

Silence.

"If he showed up..." Amon said, his voice low but firm enough to leave no room for doubt, "...then this won’t be confined to the Crater for long."

The subordinate nodded.

And left.

This time without stumbling.

Without hesitating.

The door closed behind him.

And silence returned to the hall.

But now...

It was completely different.

Amon stood still for a few moments.

Thinking.

Calculating.

And for the first time in a long time—

He didn’t have complete control of the situation.

His eyes slowly returned to the horizon.

To that dark vastness that had previously seemed stable.

Now...

It seemed... fragile.

"Vergil..." he murmured, almost as a loose thought.

Because if there was anyone capable of attracting this kind of movement...

It was him.

And if it was connected—

Then the entire Underworld was about to enter something much bigger than any previous conflict.

Amon closed his eyes for a second.

And then—

He opened them again.

Decisively.

"So that’s how it is..." he said, his voice now firm, carrying acceptance.

...

The sneeze came suddenly.

Strong.

Dry.

Unexpected enough to completely break the tranquil rhythm of the walk.

"—tch!"

Vergil reflexively brought his hand to his face, frowning slightly for a second, more out of surprise than any real discomfort. It wasn’t common. Not for him. Not after everything he had become. His body... simply didn’t function within these mundane patterns.

And yet—

It happened.

The effect, however, wasn’t limited to him.

Ophis, who had been walking beside him with her usual calm, lollipop between her lips and a distant look as if observing something beyond time itself, stopped immediately. Her eyes moved to him slowly but clearly, as if analyzing an unexpected event within a system that rarely malfunctioned.

"...that was new," she commented neutrally, as if registering a curious fact and nothing more.

But Lily—

Lily reacted completely differently.

The little girl, who had been firmly holding Vergil’s finger as she walked beside him with still somewhat clumsy steps, jumped slightly in place, her whole body contracting for a moment with fright. Her fingers tightened even more on his, as if that were her only anchor at that moment, and her red eyes quickly lifted to his face.

Frightened.

Confused.

And... slightly worried.

"Mm—!" a low sound escaped her, more of a reflex than any conscious attempt at communication, as she moved a little closer, practically touching him.

Vergil blinked once.

And then looked down.

His gaze met hers almost immediately, and for a brief second... his expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"...it was just a sneeze," he said, his voice calmer than before, almost automatic, as if he were adjusting his tone without realizing it.

Lily continued looking.

Processing.

Her eyes scanned his face for a few seconds, as if trying to confirm if it was truly harmless, if there was no hidden danger there. Her small body was still slightly tense, but gradually... relaxed.

She didn’t let go of his finger.

Not for a moment.

And slowly, she lightly rested her forehead on his arm, as if that were enough to assure her that everything was... alright. Behind them—

Alice watched the scene.

With a curious look.

And a slight smile at the corner of her lips.

She crossed her arms as she slowed her pace to better align herself with the two, tilting her head slightly as she analyzed Vergil from head to toe.

"Do you have a cold?" she asked, without any ceremony, but with a slightly amused tone, as if it were the most absurd thing that could happen to him.

Vergil let out a small sigh.

Almost tired.

"...no." he replied simply.

A pause.

And then, with a slight arch of an eyebrow, he added:

"Someone must be talking about me."