Blood stained the Qliphoth’s white surface red. Vergil looked down. It was his own blood that had been spilled. A broad blade jutted out from his stomach.

“I’m sorry Vergil,” said Gladion. “But I’ve finally decided. Power can only get you so far. And you don’t need anymore.”

He removed his blade. Vergil, of course, had no issue with being stabbed in the stomach. So he turned around.

“I thought you understood,” said Vergil.

“I do understand,” said Gladion. “And that’s why you need to sit this one out.”

Vergil pointed his blade at Gladion. “Very well then. Show me your—”

It was at this point that he remembered: he was fighting Sam.

“Right behind you.”

Within a second Sam scored Vergil a couple dozen times from crown to toe across his coronal plane, another couple dozen times across his transverse plane, and about a dozen times more down the sagittal. Vergil was tough. He knew his power. But even he had his limits.

He fell to the ground. Gladion stood over him. “The Blades.”

As Sam and Gladion left, Vergil stared up at the hole in the sky and the cosmos that lay beyond. He had been defeated. Completely and utterly defeated.

- Ragnarust Round 5