Vergil tapped the steel. Speed rushed into his body and, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed his sword, resheathed it, and summoned all his concentration. The magnetic force returned once more. With all his might, he strained against the pull to keep his form perfect. Hundreds of Chittis swarmed him. Which was perfect. It made them easier to kill.

Vergil darted forth and lacerated the reality around him. He sheathed his blade. Chitti heads fell from Chitti bodies, Chitti arms from Chitti shoulders, Chitti legs from Chitti torsos. Scores upon scores of Chittis fell apart into little scraps. Yet there were still more remaining. Those who stood outside the range of his blade flooded in to fill the space.

Vergil clicked his blade in place. A sphere filled with sword swings emerged in mid-air and destroyed nine Chittis in a single strike. So Vergil did it again. And again. He rapidly drained from the steel to perform as many Judgement Cuts as possible. Over a hundred Chittis died within seconds. Space warped and screeched as robot and hull alike fell apart. Space leaked in through the gaps and reached his ankles. And yet in spite of all of it, they just. Wouldn’t. Stop.

“We have a formidable reserve corps,” said Chitti.

- Ragnarust Round 4