Chapter 922: Broken Sword

Vergil entered the mansion without saying a word. His face wore a scowl that didn’t match the relatively calm expression he’d maintained when Scathach vanished from the training grounds, and his gait made it clear that something had begun to bother him on the walk back. There were no visible injuries, no fluctuations in his energy, and no signs that he was on the verge of exploding with rage; it was worse than that. He simply seemed distant, too focused on something he didn’t want to share with anyone.

Viviane was passing through the main hall when she saw him enter and immediately slowed her pace. "Vergil? Did something happen?"

He didn’t answer.

Viviane frowned and tried to approach, but Vergil simply unhooked Yamato from his waist and placed the sword in her hands without a word of explanation. Then, he walked past her and started up the stairs.

"Vergil?" Viviane called out again.

No response.

She stood frozen in the hall, holding Yamato as she watched Vergil disappear onto the upper floor. A few seconds later, she heard a door close.

Viviane slowly lowered her eyes to the katana.

"So... did something happen?"

A blue-violet light enveloped Yamato, and the weapon vanished from her hands. The next instant, the woman with long, bluish hair appeared before her, already in human form. Her expression was visibly troubled, though not with Viviane. Yamato glanced toward the stairs for a few seconds before letting out a sigh.

"He got beaten."

Viviane raised an eyebrow. "Badly?"

Yamato turned her face toward her.

"Badly."

Viviane waited.

"Really badly."

"Scathach?"

"Yes."

Viviane sighed, as if that explained just about everything.

Yamato crossed her arms. "She started out using a tree branch."

Viviane blinked. "Then she switched to a leaf."

Viviane remained silent for a few seconds.

Yamato continued, growing increasingly indignant as she recalled the memory. "She was toying with him. It wasn’t a fight. Not even close. She dodged everything, corrected his attacks while striking him, made comments as if she were evaluating a child, and still managed to crack me using a damn leaf."

Viviane grimaced. "That sounds just like Scathach."

Yamato looked at her as if the answer were absurd. "Is that normal?"

"For her? Unfortunately."

"She turned a leaf into a weapon capable of damaging me."

"That sounds normal, too."

Yamato stared at Viviane for a few seconds before shaking her head. "Now I understand why Master was annoyed when Sapphire brought that woman here."

Viviane shrugged. "Scathach isn’t exactly known for her gentleness. She teaches well, but she has a terrible way of explaining anything involving human emotions."

Yamato looked back toward the stairs. "He didn’t seem like that when she left."

"How was he?"

"Pensive. Irritated, maybe. But normal." She paused briefly. "The closer we got to the mansion, the quieter he became."

Viviane studied her expression and then noticed something else. "You’re hurt."

Yamato looked at her own arm.

A thin line ran across the skin near her forearm. In her human form, it looked like a mere superficial cut, but Viviane knew it likely corresponded to the crack Scathach had caused in Yamato’s blade.

"Oh."

Viviane pointed to the injury. "Is that the crack?"

"Yes."

"Why don’t you use his energy to heal?"

Yamato hesitated.

Then she looked toward the upper floor again.

"Because... you saw the state he’s in."

Viviane fell silent. Yamato touched her own arm with her fingers. "Our bond would allow me to draw enough energy from him to restore myself easily. But I don’t want to do that right now. Not when he’s like this."

Viviane smiled faintly. "You’ve become considerably more careful since getting a body."

Yamato looked away. "I’ve always been careful."

"You threw Mjölnir to another country yesterday."

"She deserved it."

"Right."

Yamato let out another sigh and extended her arm. "Could you lend me some spiritual energy?"

Viviane nodded without hesitation. "I can."

She placed a hand on Yamato’s shoulder and closed her eyes. A gentle energy began to well up around her fingers, distinct from the demonic energy that usually filled the mansion. It was spiritual, fluid, and calm, clearly carrying the water element. The energy flowed over Yamato’s body like a transparent current and was immediately absorbed by her.

Yamato’s eyes widened slightly.

"That feels nice."

"Spirit water tends to."

The cut on her arm began to fade. First, the edges closed up, then the remaining line vanished completely. Within her original form, the fissure in the blade was repaired at the same pace until not even a mark remained.

Yamato moved her arm and examined the skin.

"Perfect."

"Good."

"Thank you."

Viviane withdrew her hand.

Yamato looked back at the stairs. "I’m going to talk to him."

"No."

She turned immediately.

Viviane shook her head. "Leave him alone."

"But—"

"Yamato."

The ancient sword remained silent.

Viviane continued in a calm tone. "You’re connected to him, so I imagine your first reaction is to want to go after him. But there are times when Vergil needs to sort things out himself before letting anyone else in."

Yamato frowned. "Does that make sense?"

"Not always."

"He was fine after Scathach left." Yamato looked back toward the upper floor. "He spoke to me normally. Said he was going to look for Musashi. He even seemed interested. Then we started walking, and when we got near the mansion entrance, his expression just... darkened."

Viviane followed her gaze.

"I think that sometimes, the blow is only truly felt once it’s fully processed." She rested a hand on her hip and watched the stairs for a few seconds. "Vergil is a proud man. Very proud. He might have intellectually accepted his loss while still on the battlefield, but truly grasping the magnitude of that defeat is something else entirely."

Yamato didn’t answer.

"He hates losing."

"No." Viviane corrected her. "He hates realizing there was something he didn’t know—something he believed he did."

Yamato remained silent for a few more seconds, then nodded slowly.

"So I wait."

"Exactly."

"Even if it takes a while?"

Viviane smiled. "You waited years as a sword. I imagine you can manage waiting a few hours as a woman."

Yamato frowned slightly. "That was uncalled for."

"But true."

...

Elsewhere on the estate, Scathach and Sapphire sat facing each other in a much quieter room. Neither had spoken for a few minutes. Sapphire held a teacup in her hands, while Scathach lounged in her chair with the look of someone who had just returned from a rather uninteresting activity.

Sapphire finally broke the silence.

"So?"

Scathach looked at her.

"So what?"

"How did it go?"

The redhead let out a long sigh.

"Give up on him."

Sapphire blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"What?"

Scathach raised a finger to her ear and made a small motion, as if cleaning something out. "I said, give up on him."

Sapphire stared at her.

"Are you talking about Vergil?"

"Yes."

"My husband."

"Yes."

"The one you just trained."

"If you want to call that training."

Sapphire slowly set her cup down on the table. "What exactly do you mean by ’give up on him’?"

Scathach rested her cheek on her hand. "That he’s hopeless."

Sapphire remained motionless.

Scathach continued with absolute nonchalance. "A total failure. If he has any self-respect, he’ll drop the sword and try something else. Martial arts, maybe. Boxing. Something where physical strength solves more problems."

Sapphire kept staring at her.

"He wasn’t born to wield a sword. Worse, he doesn’t even know what a sword is."

"Scathach."

"I’m serious."

"Vergil has been using a sword since before he became who he is today."

"That means nothing."

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

Scathach shifted slightly in her chair. "I’ve trained too many warriors to waste time trying to convince someone who doesn’t even know which path they’re following. He possesses absurd reflexes, absurd speed, absurd strength, absurd regeneration, and a sword that literally corrects positioning errors by cutting through space. All of that has made him lazy."

"Vergil isn’t lazy."

"As a swordsman, he is."

Sapphire frowned. "He has infinite potential."

"In everything but swordsmanship."

The reply came instantly.

Sapphire fell silent.

Scathach let out another sigh. "I understand that you’re in love with him, Sapphire. That’s great. But why not stop overestimating the man?"

"I’m not overestimating him."

"You are."

"He defeated Thor."

"With brute force."

"He survived Odin."

"With resilience, regeneration, and power."

"He nearly took Gungnir."

"Because he’s strong."

Scathach spread her hands.

"That’s exactly it."

Sapphire stared at her.

"He isn’t good," Scathach said. "He’s simply strong enough to make all his shortcomings irrelevant."

Sapphire didn’t answer.

"If Vergil misjudges the distance, he cuts through the space. If he takes a blow that should kill him, he regenerates. If he loses his position, he uses his speed. If he can’t break someone’s defense with technique, he ramps up the strength. If he encounters something brute force can’t solve, he throws another Authority at it. Does it work? Of course it works. He’s alive, and he’s defeated people far too powerful for me to pretend it doesn’t work."

Scathach tilted her head.

"But that doesn’t make him a good swordsman."

Sapphire felt a strange irritation rising in her chest.

Not because she thought Scathach was completely wrong.

That would have been easier.

The problem was hearing someone speak about Vergil that way.

Even back when he was a nobody, Sapphire remembered how quickly he used to learn. Techniques that would normally require weeks were grasped in days. Complex concepts were assimilated almost immediately. He would observe, replicate, modify, and make them work.

It all came naturally to him.

Sapphire had always considered that talent.

Scathach called it compensation.

"You’re saying he’s terrible."

"As a swordsman?" Scathach wore a thoughtful expression. "Yes."

Sapphire felt that sting far more than she expected.

Scathach noticed.

"Don’t make that face."

"What face?"

"The face of an offended wife."

"I’m not offended."

"You are."

Sapphire crossed her arms.

"Go on."

Scathach shrugged. "There isn’t much else to say. He’s bad. Really bad. It’s just that hardly anyone notices because he manages to crush most opponents before it matters."

Sapphire stared at her.

It was truly the first time anyone had said that about Vergil.

Not "he could improve."

Not "he has bad habits."

Not "he lacks discipline."

Useless.

A failure.

Terrible.

Scathach didn’t seem to have a shred of doubt.

"Anyway..." The redhead stretched. "I told him to look up that Musashi kid."

Sapphire blinked.

"What?"

Scathach shrugged. "Maybe that little guy can help."

Sapphire stood motionless.

"Musashi."

"Yes."

"Miyamoto Musashi."

"How many do you know?"

Sapphire slowly placed both hands on the table.

"Did you send Vergil to look for Musashi?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Scathach raised an eyebrow as if the answer were obvious. "Because he’s probably the only person capable of helping someone like Vergil."

Sapphire frowned.

Scathach continued. "Vergil has pursued too many paths at once. Demonic, divine, death, Authorities, Yamato, draconic power—who knows what else is crammed into that body. He learned to be efficient at everything without ever really deciding what he *is*."

"That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know who he is."

"It means he knows who he is as a person," Scathach corrected. "Not as a swordsman."

Sapphire fell silent.

"Musashi had a similar problem at one point in his life," Scathach continued. "Too many paths. Too many techniques. Too much ambition. Until he realized he needed to stop chasing the sword and start understanding himself."

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

"You’re serious."

"Unfortunately."

Sapphire stared at her for a few more seconds.

Then her expression shifted completely.

"Are you kidding me?"

Scathach blinked.

"Hm?"

"You want him to go to the Oni Gate?!"

"Yes?"

Sapphire stood up from her chair.

Scathach followed the movement with her eyes, still not grasping the problem.

"I mean, it’s a pretty quiet place, you know? Lots of people live there."

Sapphire pointed at her. "That’s not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"You sent my husband to the exact place where that shameless fox lives?!"

Scathach fell silent.

Then she tilted her head.

"Are you talking about Inari?"

"OF COURSE I’M TALKING ABOUT INARI!" Scathach thought for a few seconds.

"Well... yes. I think she still lives around there."

Sapphire stared at the redhead as if she were seconds away from lunging across the table.

Scathach smiled.

"Ah."

"Ah, what?"

"Now I get the problem."

"Finally."

Scathach started to laugh.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes.

"It’s not funny."

"It is, a little."

"Scathach."

"You’re jealous."

"I know that woman."

"So do I."

"Then you know exactly why I’m complaining."

Scathach rested her chin on her hand, clearly enjoying herself far more than she should have been.

"You’re worried that Inari will see Vergil."

"Yes."

"And like him."

"Yes."

"And that Vergil will see Inari."

Sapphire fell silent.

Scathach smiled.

"And like her, too."

Sapphire pointed at her.

"If you finish that sentence, I swear I’ll shove your own spear right through you."

Scathach laughed even harder, then stopped abruptly as her aura exploded outward.

"Go ahead—shove it in and see what I do to you," Scathach said, as billions of wind blades materialized behind her, all pointed at Sapphire. "Go on. Grab your spear."