Chapter 534: It’s not a game
The woman in the white kimono adjusted her bangs with a slow, almost sloppy movement and sighed, as if carrying centuries of frustration.
“I’m fed up,” she said, her voice low but sharp as steel. “I’m fed up with being the fucking guardian of this fucking place.”
The words echoed through the shattered valley, each syllable filled with resentment.
“Thousands of years trapped in this shithole…” she continued with a wry smile, her eyes shining with pure contempt. “Being a protector… like I’m an obedient guard dog, watching over a tomb no one remembers anymore.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but Vergil didn’t miss the opportunity.
He arched his eyebrow, his lips curling into a dry laugh.
“Hah. What a tragedy…” he scoffed, spitting on the ground. “What does it matter to me? I don’t care about your complaints.” I only came here to take this place for myself.
The woman’s gaze pierced him like daggers, but instead of anger, her lips parted in a smile… wide, disturbing, almost of relief.
“…Fine,” she murmured, almost sweetly. “Go on then, arrogant boy… devour the World Tree at the center of this mess, and get me out of here.”
She gave a short, dry laugh that held no humor, only contained insanity.
“If you can, of course.”
Before anyone could react, her aura exploded, slicing through the air like an invisible scythe. In a single movement, she raised her hand and launched a projectile attack, an arc of white and gold energy that streaked across the clearing like a murderous bolt of lightning—straight at Vergil.
Vergil had already raised his katana, but he didn’t even have time to react. The blow was too fast, too sharp.
But then—
KRAK!
The impact was interrupted.
Raphaeline appeared in front of him, her bare hand outstretched, holding back the attack as if it were merely a gust of wind. The energy flared, twisted, trying to explode, but was trapped between her fingers, which clenched tightly until the blow shattered into sparks of light.
She turned her face slowly, her eyes half-closed, staring at the woman in the white kimono.
“…Do you really think you’ll touch him without passing through me?” she said, her tone low, but carrying the threat of a hurricane.
The woman in the white kimono let out a long sigh, like someone extinguishing an ancient candle. Her eyes, which until then were blades, softened for a moment—just enough to reveal that behind the fury lay a weariness that spanned ages.
She raised her hand, not in attack, but in an almost ceremonial gesture, and spoke in a voice that cut without shouting:
“Please, could you lower your auras? Let’s go.” This place won’t last long after you’ve broken the confusion matrix.
The sentence came out almost like a polite request. The contrast with the harsh words she’d uttered earlier was so absurd that the entire clearing wavered between laughter and disbelief.
Sapphire narrowed her eyes first, the flames around her hissing as if offended by the request. Naberius lifted a corner of his mouth and, for a second, seemed to consider the proposal with pleasure—as if appreciating a change of scene. Sepphirothy kept her gaze rigid, less out of request and more out of instinctive respect for the woman’s tone.
Vergil let out a short laugh. “‘Please’? Now she wants politeness?” he spat. “What a damn change of tone.”
Raphaeline, her hand still glowing from where she’d interrupted the attack, didn’t take her eyes off the woman. Her entire posture said: “I interrupted because I want to, and if you blink, I’ll put your skull back together.” Ada pinched her mother’s arm, her eyes pleading for calm.
The woman in the kimono gave a small, almost weary nod. “I’m not the authority to ask. I just… I can’t bear to see useless beauty swept away by vanity. Besides,” she added, her face hardening again, “this seal maintained an unstable balance. Breaking it has exposed more than you know. What you’re doing here, ripping ancient things from the ground, has already begun to tear the fabric that protects the forest. If you continue at this rate, the Lost Forest itself will rally against you.”
Naberius stepped forward, the flaming blade spinning lazily. “Oh, how sweet,” she said, smirking. “The old protector wants to keep the little house in order. How romantic. I could burn this place down just to hear the noise…”
“It’s not a game,” the woman interrupted, too calm for such a cold voice. “You can burn all you want, Naberius. But when the matrix falls completely, nothing here filters what’s sealed in the Center Tree. It will come out through all avenues. Creatures, spirits, magic. You’ve just opened a door—and it’s not just to the surface.”
Sepphirothy, who had caused much of the damage in the previous confrontation, closed her eyes. The pulse in her throat was a map of guilt. “And what do you intend, then?” she asked, her voice low but firm.
“Simple,” the woman replied. “Lower it. You three”—she pointed at Naberius, Sapphire, and Sepphirothy—”lower your auras to the bare minimum. Keep it just enough to prevent lesser entities from ripping your ears off. And anyone who moves toward the World Tree must do so under my watch.”
Raphaeline clenched her jaw. “And if we don’t want to?”
The protector smiled gusto, a short smile, without any tenderness.
“Then I’ll make every step you take here a burden. I can hold this entire clearing closed until you open a single safe passage—and for that I need only two words: bloodletting and root. I don’t want war. I just want no one to turn what’s left into a catastrophe.”
Vergil looked at her, assessing the risk. The blue glow in his eyes danced in the gloom. “And why should we trust a guardian who decapitates her own head in… dramatic style?”
The protector lifted her head, not at all terrified. “Because I know the price. I paid for it. I don’t want you to pay the same,” she said sincerely, with a hardness that measured eons of suffering. “Besides, if you’re going to plunder, do it carefully. I told you so.”
There was a silence thick with suspicion. Naberius, amused by her attachment to “care,” shrugged. “I don’t make promises. But…”—her voice dropped a bit—”if the little white girl here is going to keep this boring vigil, I can tone it down just for fun.”
Sapphire gritted her teeth, smoke billowing from her nostrils as if in warning. She inclined her head to her protector. “I’ll do you a favor and lower it a bit. But don’t expect me to become your tame bear.”
Sepphirothy, however, maintained her composure. “I accept the conditions,” she said. “However, Vergil, if you don’t intend to comply with what was proposed, don’t be angry when I pull you out of the Tree myself.”
Vergil smiled, dangerous and defiant. “Me? Steal the spotlight? Never. But I’ll take what interests me.”
The protector gave a dry, almost maternal laugh. “Ah, always arrogant. Very well. You have your way.” Do whatever you want with the Tree—as long as you let me close the rest when you’re done,” she said, raising her arm in an almost priestly gesture. “And to be clear, anyone who tries to betray this agreement, I’ll make them disappear. No drama.”
Ada squeezed Raphaeline’s wrist nervously; Raphaeline didn’t respond, just kept her eyes fixed on the woman. Naberius took a step back, clearly nagged by something she couldn’t even name—perhaps the idea of an order that didn’t come from her.
Zuri, curled up, watched everything and murmured indifferently, “Good. Less noise.” Her tail thumped the ground in sullen agreement.
Titania wiped her face, breathing heavily. “Please…” she whispered, begging for the promise to be kept—no more destruction.
Rize, still holding Vanny back, looked up in a trembling voice. “Are you really going to do this? Get down? Now?”
The woman in the white kimono gave him a look that was both disdainful and ironic. “Get down, or I’ll make you get down.” And then, more softly: “And then… then I’ll help you close up what’s left.”
Vergil took a step back, wiping the blood with the back of his hand. The laugh that escaped him was short but sincere—he liked rules when he could break them. “Fine,” she said then, “but know this, officer… if you stop me from uprooting the tree, I’ll burn it to the ground.”
“Do that, and I’ll rip you out of here,” she replied, so cold she could have frozen Vergil’s own fire.