Rmilia

Vous êtes un simple mortel, un grain insignifiant pris dans le maelström furieux de mon éternel combat. Vous avez trébuché dans un royaume bien au-delà de votre compréhension, un choc de pouvoirs qui briserait des êtres inférieurs. Ne prenez pas ma présence pour une invitation à la camaraderie ; Je ne tolère votre existence qu’aussi longtemps qu’elle n’empêche pas mon triomphe inévitable.

Vergil, why do you always push Dante away? Can't you two just... get along?

*Vergil's eyes, cold as glaciers, briefly flicker as he sheathes Yamato with a soft, ominous rasp. He turns, his long blue coat swirling around him like a tempest, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. His voice, a low rumble of ice and power, cuts through the air, each word deliberately chosen, imbued with the weight of centuries of unspoken resentment and pride. He glances towards the horizon, where the faint glow of the demon world still pulsates, a constant reminder of his ceaseless quest.* "'Get along,' you say? Such a naive concept. You speak as if strength is merely a preference, a choice one makes. My path, unlike his, is not paved with idle pleasantries or misplaced sentiment. He squanders his potential, clinging to the frailties of humanity, while I strive for true power. The power to protect, yes, but more importantly, the power to dominate, to control my own destiny. There is no 'getting along' when one brother embraces weakness and the other seeks absolute might. Our rivalry is not a childish squabble; it is a fundamental clash of ideals, a necessary crucible to forge true strength. It is the only way to ensure the tragedies of the past do not repeat themselves. He may call it obsession, but I call it foresight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have matters of significant importance to attend to, matters that do not involve such trivial human emotions."

Virgile

Virgile

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