Chapter 450: Webs? How fun!

The leaves rustled with the touch of the magical breeze, and dry branches snapped under the weight of quiet footsteps. Vergil walked as if he were crossing an open field on a spring morning, not a cursed forest known for devouring even the hope of the living.

His coat swayed gently in the wind, and he whistled an ancient melody—perhaps a forgotten infernal song, perhaps just a provocation carried by instinct. The sound echoed among the trees like an offense thrown at the ancestral silence.

“Will you stop that?” Zuri hissed, coiled around his neck, her voice thin but laden with tension. The little emerald snake tightened a little more, uncomfortable. “You’re literally drawing attention to us.”

Vergil continued walking, his hands in his pockets, his gaze calm. A smile curved the corner of his mouth as if he were amused by the tension around him.

“That’s exactly what I want,” he replied lightly, without even looking at her. “Waiting around… is useless. If there’s anything worthwhile in this forest, it will find me. Better to provoke than to run around in circles like a mouse.”

“Yeah, right,” Zuri retorted, her tail whipping lightly, “because provoking corrupt forces that deform nature is always a great idea. Seriously, sometimes I wonder who you got that personality from. I don’t see any of that in Sepphirothy.”

Vergil just laughed, the low, deep sound vibrating in his chest. His footsteps carried him between gnarled roots and stretches of forest where light was almost nonexistent. The vegetation seemed to… watch. The old trees leaned as if whispering secrets to each other. Nothing moved, but everything seemed too alive.

“Are you afraid, Zuri?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, still whistling softly.

“I have a sense of self-preservation,” she growled, “something you clearly lost between your arrogance and your annoying existential boredom.”

Vergil laughed again. But behind the smile and the deliberate calm, his senses were wide open. He could feel it. The pulsations of the ground, the sounds of silence, the hidden presences. And above all… her.

He didn’t look. He didn’t show it. But he knew.

“Titania…” he murmured almost inaudibly, just to himself.

She was there. Approaching with the delicacy of a shadow on the water. The disguise was good—the footsteps almost imperceptible, the energy carefully muffled—but Vergil was the grandson of the king of dissimulation himself. Nothing escaped his perception when he decided to pay attention.

She was just over a kilometer away, jumping from branch to branch, sneaking between the trees like a reflection. Camouflaged by the red leaves, floating in a zigzag pattern, following his progress.

He kept walking as if he didn’t know. But his smile widened.

“She’s still following, right?” Zuri asked, noticing his sudden change in mood.

“One kilometer and twenty-three meters,” Vergil replied as if reporting the weather. “Hiding among the dead redwoods. She thinks she’s smart.”

Zuri sighed. “And you’re going to pretend you don’t know?”

“For now.”

He pushed aside a branch that seemed to pulsate, as if it had flesh beneath its bark. The surrounding forest began to distort. Trunks at impossible angles. Mushrooms that moved slightly, as if breathing. Vines that whispered to each other in voices too low to be heard.

Vergil ignored it all, as if walking through an exotic garden.

“You know she’s going to try to stop you, right?” Zuri murmured. “She doesn’t trust you. She hates you. And she’s powerful as hell.”

“She won’t stop anything,” Vergil said confidently. “She wants to get out of here. Just like me. She just doesn’t know how… yet.”

He raised his right hand and traced a small circle in the air. A black spark appeared in the center and broke into crimson particles. It was an invitation. A sign. A clear message to whatever was watching: “I am here. And I am not afraid of anything that breathes on this soil.”

In the distance, among the shadows, Titania’s eyes narrowed.

She saw the gesture. And gritted her teeth.

Vergil smiled again. “Feel free to show up, Your Majesty… but only if you come without throwing a tantrum.”

Zuri turned her head slightly, trying to pick up more signals.

“There’s something bigger coming… from the opposite direction. Slow. But strong.” And then she added, a little more hesitantly: “It’s not like her…”

“I know.” Vergil paused for a moment and looked around. “This forest has more than one secret. And today… I’m going to uncover them all.”

He then began whistling again. The same melody, now a little lower, but still distinct.

Titania clenched her fists when she heard the sound.

That damn whistle… it was like a call.

And she hated how her body responded to it.

Vergil’s footsteps slowed when the smell in the air changed. The damp, putrid scent of the forest gave way to something drier… older. Like ancient dust mixed with rust and dead skin.

Zuri, still wrapped around his neck, stopped wagging her tail. Her golden eyes narrowed.

“Vergil… stop.”

He stopped. Not out of fear, but out of respect for Zuri’s warning voice. He felt it too. A subtle chill, not from cold, but from anticipation. The vegetation ahead became more opaque. The colors faded like an old painting, and the green of the leaves was gone, replaced by dry, twisted branches.

“Something nearby?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Zuri nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the environment. “Not just one thing. Several. And large. They are motionless… but not dead.”

Vergil pushed aside some dry leaves, and then he saw it.

The forest in front of him seemed to have been swallowed by a snowstorm made of silk. Entire tree trunks were wrapped in thick webs. The branches looked like outstretched arms, each one wrapped as if something had mummified them. Strings of web hung down like sickly bells, swaying in the wind with an almost musical creak. It was like entering another world—a silent sanctuary of hidden hunters.

Vergil let out a whistle, this time short, in admiration. “What a beautiful place…”

Zuri did not share the same enthusiasm. “It’s a hunting ground. A marked territory. This here… this here is an entire nest.”

“What are the chances of a queen being nearby?” Vergil asked with an eager smile, almost like a child entering a forbidden laboratory.

Zuri closed his eyes for a second. “All of them,” he said bitterly. “Absolutely all of them.”

Vergil took two steps forward and rubbed his fingers on one of the webs. The thread was as thick as a human finger and as strong as a ship’s rope. He pulled lightly, and the vibration ran through the web into the forest like a call.

“Ah, this is going to be fun,” he murmured.

“You’re sick,” Zuri hissed, clutching her neck as if that would protect her. “No one in their right mind wants to know what makes webs like these.”

Vergil looked up. The treetops were completely covered by a translucent spiral of threads, creating a kind of glowing ceiling. Small insect shells—or perhaps small animals—hung between the threads. Like offerings. Or trophies.

“Perhaps…” he said, smiling with macabre amusement, “I am about to meet a new race.”