The portal opened by Yggdrasil disappeared behind Vergil almost the instant he crossed through.
The first impact was not physical.
It was the absence.
There was no wind.
No smell of vegetation, water, metal, blood, or anything that resembled life.
The entire ground of that world seemed to be made from the remains of everything that had ever died there.
Gray ash covered the surface in every direction, fine as the dust of burned bones and deep enough to partially swallow his boots with every step.
In some places, small dunes had formed, but even they seemed motionless, as if even the concept of wind did not function properly in that place.
Vergil raised his eyes.
The sky was completely black.
Not nighttime.
Black.
There were no stars, moon, clouds, or any visible source of light.
Even so, he could see perfectly.
