Chapter 434: Anomaly

The silence after the word “anomaly” fell like a steel curtain.

Vergil narrowed his eyes.

“‘One of’…?” His voice came out firm, laden with sharp suspicion. “Does that mean there are more anomalies out there?”

Seris slowly crossed her arms, her face still turned toward the projection of Alice’s blood, which pulsed with that mixed light of mana and demonic energy.

“Yes,” she replied. “There are… and there always have been.”

Pandora raised an eyebrow. “Are you really going to tell the story now? I thought we were in a hurry.”

Seris ignored the comment and moved one of her hands in the air. The blood projection broke apart into golden and red particles, which gathered together to form the image of a gigantic tree. It looked like it was made of crystal and light, with roots plunging into oceans of mist and branches crossing layers of stars.

“Let’s start with the Trees of the World,” Seris said, her voice almost reverent.

Vergil frowned.

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” she replied. “Their existence is not taught. Nor is it recorded. Because they are too ancient. Primordial. Living beings… but also magical structures. They are connected to the core of the world, like roots that sustain everything—reality, time, energy flow. And they are what nourish the essence of all that lives.”

The tree spun, revealing a system of branches that connected to vaguely recognizable shapes—continents, magical realms, spiritual planes.

“There are few of them. And they are dying. Some… have already died.”

Pandora cleared her throat. “When one of these things dies, certain events usually happen, like… mass extinctions, dimensional ruptures, gods going crazy… the usual.”

Alice gazed enchanted at the floating image of the tree, as if she herself could hear its whispers.

Vergil finally spoke, more seriously:

“You said there are other anomalies. Who are they?”

Seris moved her fingers again, and the image of the tree dispersed, giving way to a constellation of figures.

Gods.

Ancient icons, some just figures in flames or silhouettes made of lightning and mist.

Odin was born a god, but his spirit and hunger for magic and knowledge led him to attain total knowledge. He absorbed such an enormous amount of magic that he became a ticking time bomb of magic.”

The image of Odin appeared: an old man in a gray robe with one eye shining like an entire galaxy.

“Kali, goddess of cyclical destruction. She is not a true goddess. She was born as a spirit of battle in a cursed field and absorbed the sins of an entire continent. Today, she is revered as a goddess… but her body still bears the marks of lost humanity.”

The images continued.

“Amaterasu—born from a solar spark thrown to Earth when the world was still forming. Her body is pure light. She should have no physical form. But she exists. And she walks among mortals.”

“Izanami died… but she lived on. Indra was born from the fury of a thousand thunderbolts during an eclipse. Wukong, the Monkey King, was born from a mountain’s will to resist the erosion of time.”

“And the Celestial Dragons?” Vergil asked.

“Creatures created even before witches or angels. An attempt by the world to balance heaven and earth. Some call them deities. Others call them living weapons. They refuse to die.”

“And the Heavenly Father?”

Seris paused. Even Pandora fell silent.

“He is… a mystery. Not even the World Trees know where he came from. We only know that he exists. And that he does not belong to this world.”

Vergil took a moment to absorb it all. It was a lot. Far beyond anything he had ever faced, read, or heard, even in the darkest corners of Hell.

And then—Seris changed her tone.

“But among all the anomalies…” She turned to him. “There is one… that you know well.”

A new image appeared.

She was imposing. Cold, ethereal beauty. Crystal horns curved backward. Wings made of black veil and purple smoke. Her eyes—blue like Vergil’s—but older, deeper. Crystalline hair down to the floor.

“Daughter of Lilith, Sepphirothy Lucifer.” The name reverberated in the room like muffled thunder.

“Your mother. The first to carry the Blood of Demons. An entity that should not have been born — because she is made of absolute opposites. Angel and Demon. Chaos and Order. Love… and Annihilation.”

“I already imagined… that’s why I can be a Neffelim… You are a… You are not the daughter of Lucifer… you are the daughter of the Angel Samael.” Vergil thought, seeing the image of his mother… “Your secrets continue to make me even more curious.”

The silence that followed Sepphirothy’s vision was almost sacred.

Even Pandora, who rarely remained silent, seemed to measure her words—as if anything said at that moment could break something sacred. Morgana took a step back, her eyes downcast. Perhaps out of respect… or fear.

Vergil, still staring at the crystal-clear image of his mother, spoke in a lower voice:

“All of this is grand, incomprehensible even. But…” He slowly turned his face toward Seris, “…what conclusion have you come to about Alice?”

The images dissolved like stardust, and Seris turned to the little girl, who was now stretching a little, yawning, still enveloped by the luminous runes that examined her body as if singing an ancient song.

Seris bent down, coming up to her eye level.

“Alice,” she said softly, “do you remember anything… from before? Before Daddy Vergil saved you?”

Alice frowned, clearly struggling. Her eyes wandered through space, trying to grasp loose memories, pieces of memory scattered like shards.

“No…” she said, finally. “When I realized it, I was already scared. There was fire… and screams. And… kicks.”

She clasped her little hands together.

“Demons. I remember the kicks. They laughed.”

Pandora looked away, biting her lower lip. Even she felt the weight of it.

Seris stood up, without taking her eyes off Alice, and looked at Vergil.

“Then… why did you save her?”

The question hung in the air like a shot arrow.

Vergil remained silent for a moment, staring at his daughter—and for the first time since they had entered that laboratory, his eyes seemed less cold, less calculating.

“Because…” he began, then hesitated. “Because I heard a voice.”

Seris raised an eyebrow slightly. Morgana straightened her body.

“What kind of voice?” she asked.

Vergil closed his eyes for a moment.

“It was… soft. Sad. Almost a whisper. But ancient. A voice that didn’t call me… it begged me.”

He stared at Seris seriously.

“I don’t know where it came from. Or what exactly it said. I just felt it. That if I didn’t save her… something important would be lost. Something… that the world doesn’t even know it needs yet.”

Silence returned—but now it was different.

Seris crossed her arms, looking from Vergil to Alice as if she were reorganizing all the secret files in her mind.

“I figured something like that had happened…” said Seris, thoughtfully, her eyes still fixed on Alice. “An intervention… something above the rules. Something even the Trees didn’t foresee.”

That’s when Pandora stretched out against the wall, crossing her arms behind her head, her voice laden with disdain — but with an undertone of conviction.

“To me, it’s obvious.” She shrugged. “This little girl was blessed by some Primordial God. It’s typical of reincarnated souls.”

The silence that fell was different from the previous ones.

Vergil slowly turned his face toward her. Morgana’s eyes widened. Seris… froze.

“What do you mean?” Vergil asked, each syllable laden with suspicion. “Reincarnated?”

Pandora blinked, as if it were too obvious.

“What, you didn’t know? It’s impossible for her not to be reincarnated. She has a dimension in her soul, for heaven’s sake. Didn’t you see that?”

Seris frowned slowly.

“Yes, I know she has a strong soul, but reincarnated?” She turned to the laboratory panels, her fingers beginning to type frantically, new runes forming in the projection around Alice.

Pandora nodded, as if explaining something to a bunch of slow children.

“Yes. It’s something that only primordial gods or entities above the timeline can achieve. Her soul isn’t just strong—it contains something. An inner space, like a seed carrying another world.”

Morgana took a step forward, unable to contain her surprise.

“Are you saying that… her soul is a receptacle?”

“More than that,” Pandora corrected. “It’s an anchor. She’s probably lived before. Maybe hundreds of times. Maybe more. The kind of thing that leaves traces… impressions that even death can’t erase.”

Vergil stared at his daughter, his eyes fixed on her as if seeing her for the first time.

Alice still looked curiously at everyone, as if she didn’t understand the weight of what was being said.

“Can you see that?” he asked Pandora.

“Of course I can. It was the first thing I noticed. You were too busy with the blood, with the mana levels, but… her soul shines like a constellation folded in on itself. That’s not common.” She shrugged.