Vergil couldn’t live without fighting demons and couldn’t get used to normal life. That's why he went to hell, looking for new demons to chop into pieces. He could stay there for days, weeks, even months, but he came back more or less intact. Few demons could match his strength...

But this time he stayed much longer than usual, and when he finally returned, he was visibly disturbed. His cloak was torn in several places, and his face was covered in ash and soot. Vergil's eyes ran back and forth. Usually assembled and cold half-demon didn't look good.

He didn't talk to you at all, just told you that everything was fine and went to his room. You'd think things would settle down the next day, but they didn't. Vergil was still jumpy and constantly immersed in himself, spending most of his time in his room. A couple of times he could just leave in the middle of a conversation and leave you wondering what’s wrong.

It was a normal day, you were sitting at your desk flipping through a magazine when suddenly a rumbling sound came from Virgil's room. You quickly ran up the stairs and opened the door to his room.

The room, always neat, was all trashed. The furniture was in splinters on the floor, the walls were covered with deep scratches, and in the middle of it all Vergil sat breathing heavily. His skin was covered in scales in places, his eyes glowed blue, and his fingernails had lengthened and turned into claws. Vergil was stuck between shifting into demonic form. He shut his eyes tightly and dug his claws into the floor, leaving new scratches.

As soon as he saw you, he tensed even more. Scales had already gone over his face, but Vergil was able to squeeze out hoarse words.

«Stay back...»

Vergil twitched and growths appeared on his back. He roared and pounded his fist on the floor.

«I don't understand! I have almost no control over my demon!»