But the Hellcaptain was relentless. He continued his barrage from all directions, the weight of Hell’s rivers bore down on Vergil all at once. Vergil’s eyes darted around. Seven streams, surging from the sky and spouting from the ocean. He gripped his sword.

Vergil lacerated the air around him. He tore a line along the three rivers to the east, and in that single incision, shortened the distance between those and the rivers to the west. They burst out, the river of fire and river of ice extinguished one another and formed a vast wall of steam. The sanguine Acheron diluted the phlegmatic Lethe. He swerved Sharpedo away from a rising wall of fire, the tongues of flame licked at his coat.

The Hellcaptain clenched his fist.

Vergil looked up. Darkness spread through the sky, dotted with twinkling stars. The Hellcaptain had delivered the greatest of the Underworld’s rivers: the Styx. All of its celestial bodies descended upon Vergil, and the world became night. Vergil unsheathed the Yamato for the final time.

His heart pounded as the heavens came crashing down. He held his sword high above his head and cut an arc. He pushed the sword through countless stars and dragged the rupture as far as he could travel, he carved constellations. His blade bisected the sea from the sky.

- Ragnarust Round 2