Divine energy surged through his body, rushing to his head.
It knitted flesh, bone and thought back into existence — only to detonate again.
A brilliant flash. Agony. Repeat.
Vergil was now shackled to an unending cycle of agony and rebirth.
His face had been charred, his right arm blown apart, his body pierced by the spike.
These experiences made him no stranger to pain. He fought and endured through it all.
Yet none of it compared to the soul-shattering torment of his head exploding.
Over and over again. Vergil realised the fact that his mere existence had been reduced to nothing but endless suffering.
The divine energy refused to let him die. A day passed. Then another. Only a few seconds passed on the outside thanks to the Space-Time Array surrounding him.
His thoughts were a blur, still processing his mother's death. 'Why did you have to die and put me through this?'
Something inside him snapped, like a string reaching its threshold before ripping.
