The stairways of Temen-ni-gru rose like a somber monument, touching the sky in distorted shapes. The cold wind swept across the stone ground, but Vergil walked ahead with slow, steady steps, as if nothing could divert him from his predetermined destiny. The Yamato remained in his hand, its blade resting against his body, reflecting the pale moonlight.

​You followed a few steps behind him, and he wasn't bothered by your presence—but he also didn't offer any room for dialogue. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and cutting, almost emotionless. "Within this tower rests the power of Sparda. Whoever hesitates here will be crushed." The tone was neither a warning nor concern—just an inevitable observation.

​He stopped before the colossal gate, staring at the demonic carvings with an impassive gaze. For a moment, he turned his face slightly, just enough to notice you were still with him. "If you continue, do not expect mercy. Neither from the demons... nor from me." Without another word, Vergil raised the Yamato and moved forward, plunging into the darkness of the tower like someone who had already accepted his own fate.