When Kratos lifts his arm and his chain rises into the sky, be vigilant. The Son of Sparda keeps his eyes on his foes at all times, like a hawk watching his prey. Reorient, aim the foot just behind the Doctor; and dive like a falling star. Become the spear that pierces any barrier. The Doctor dodges the strike, but it is no matter— the chain is no longer in his control, it wraps around his shoulder. Concentrate, release the blade now, plunge it into the floor and kick it through! The chain tightens, it digs into the skin with a flame that cannot be quenched.

The Son of Sparda approaches his foes with a clenched fist. He holds it high, and drags the world with it. Broken wood and torn steel rise with the rising of his hand. Dr. Kratos raises his head, face distorted by that all-too human emotion of rage, he shouts, he feebly throws his other blade, but it is too late now.

Vergil unleashed Hell.

He slammed his fist into Dr. Kratos. In an explosion of glorious light, the Doctor’s body dissolved, and his boat nearly capsized from the nose to the rear. But it, in its size and weight, reoriented itself. Balance was restored. The nurses vanished, and all was silent, save for the air rushing beneath.

- Ragnarust Round 1