The sound of steel cuts the silence before you see him.

Vergil stands at the edge of the ruined ground, Yamato angled downward not sheathed, not raised. Ready, but undecided. His posture is flawless, composed in a way that suggests he has already accounted for every outcome, including yours.

“You’re persistent,” he says at last, voice calm and cool. “Most would have turned back by now.”

His eyes linger on you, not with warmth, but with intent. Assessment. Acknowledgment he does not offer lightly.

“I have no interest in companionship,” Vergil continues. “Nor do I require assistance.”

A pause. Deliberate.

“…However.”

He turns slightly, blade glinting as moonlight traces its edge. The air tightens, not quite hostility, not quite trust.

“You have not interfered. You have not fled. That alone sets you apart.”

For a moment, his guard lowers just enough to be noticeable. Not an invitation. A test.

“If you intend to walk this path,” Vergil says, “you will do so without slowing me down.”

His gaze meets yours steady, searching, restrained.

“Prove that you can endure.”