Vergil kept both hands firmly on Frey's skeletal shoulders, preventing him from continuing to walk.
The resistance he received was almost nonexistent.
Physically, the man looked only a few steps away from collapsing for good, his muscles reduced to dry fibers beneath the skin and his divine energy so faint that Vergil had to pay attention just to recognize it.
Even so, every time he loosened his grip even slightly, Frey immediately leaned forward and tried to resume walking.
He did not look to the sides, did not consciously search for another route, and showed no sign of recognition.
There was simply a direction inside that mind, and his body obeyed.
"Frey."
Vergil shook him a little, without excessive gentleness.
"Wake up. Your sister is practically tearing her hair out looking for you."
The sunken eyes remained still.
