Chapter 469: …you’ll all regret it.

Vergil’s smile widened, not with mockery, but with genuine enthusiasm. With a sharp thrust, he pushed the demonic cow away, sending it skidding across the ground until it slammed into a fallen log, which shattered as if made of glass.

It snorted loudly, its breathing heavy and ragged, but its eyes burned even brighter—now, beyond the fury, there was pride. It was as if it accepted that he was a worthy adversary.

Rize swung the blade again, but didn’t budge from her stance. She could feel the air vibrate between them, and even her killer instinct told her that interfering would be… reckless.

The cow lowered its body, its hind legs tensing.

Vergil, in response, unsheathed the Yamato’s scabbard from its obi and held it in his left hand, the sword still sheathed in his right. His posture changed: no longer calm analysis, but the promise of attack.

The world seemed to slow down as she fired.

He advanced too, their two bodies cutting through the distance like blades. The impact struck mid-stride—horns against sheath and blade sheathed—and the shockwave sent leaves and debris flying in all directions.

Vergil took a half-step back and, with a precise twist, knocked her head to the side, opening her guard. The creature, however, didn’t hesitate: it shifted its weight onto its front legs and attempted a double kick with its hind legs.

He lowered his body, the wood of the sheath scraping against one of its hooves, and spun back, slamming the tip of the sheath into its rear joint. It wasn’t meant to injure her—it was meant to test her endurance.

The cow merely let out a hoarse moo and spun around, horns slicing through the air. Vergil leaned back, feeling the invisible blade of wind graze his face.

“Tough… too much even by demonic standards…” he muttered, adjusting his footing.

The creature came again, this time in short bursts, trying to push him back step by step.

Vergil accepted it, recoiling with each impact, until his heel hit a solid rock. He used it as leverage, braced his body, and counterattacked—pushing it back with a sharp blow of his scabbard to its horn.

The sound was a metallic clang, like steel on steel.

It staggered a little, but didn’t fall. Instead, it lowered its head and, for the first time, let out a roar that made even the nearby trees vibrate. The ground cracked beneath its hooves, and a dark aura began to seep through its entire body.

Zuri leaned her head against his shoulder. “Good… now you’ve really pissed it off.”

Vergil didn’t respond—but the slight arch of his eyebrow showed that was exactly what he wanted.

The cow lunged again, but this time with a burst of force that tore a path through the ground. Vergil crossed his scabbard and sheathed sword like a makeshift shield, absorbing the impact and spinning with it to throw the beast over his shoulder.

The THUD of the fall shook the ground.

But before the dust had settled, she was back on her feet, snorting, and now the black aura was forming small flames on her hooves and horns.

Rize bit her lower lip, clearly tempted to join the fight. “Master… this won’t end well for her or the entire grounds…”

Vergil just smiled and murmured, almost to himself, “That’s exactly what I want to know. How long can she last?”

He took two steps forward, his eyes fixed on the beast, and spoke loudly, “Come.”

She obeyed.

The next shock was so violent that cracks opened in the ground around her, and fragments of stone flew like projectiles. Vergil grabbed the left horn with one hand, the right with the sheath, and both locked in a struggle of brute strength.

The cow pressed down, muscles contracting in waves, trying to crush him on the spot. Vergil, however, wouldn’t budge an inch.

Then, in an instant, he deliberately relaxed his grip. The beast, surprised, lost its balance, and he used it to push it aside with enough force to send it rolling to the ground.

When it rose, panting, Vergil watched in silence for a few seconds. Then he said, with the tone of someone who had already made up his mind: “Yes. You’ll do.”

Zuri, hearing this, let out a resigned sigh. “Here we go… another monster for the collection.”

The cow snorted, still furious, but didn’t immediately advance. There was something different in its gaze now—as if it recognized that this confrontation wasn’t just about killing it, but about… accepting it.

Vergil turned the Yamato in his hand, sheathed it again, and stepped back, as if giving it space. “Rest for today. But we’ll come back to this.”

Rize blinked in surprise. “You’re… letting her go?”

“No,” he replied with a slight smile. “I’m just giving it time to come on its own.”

The cow stood still, its eyes shining in the dim light, before snorting one last time and disappearing into the woods.

Vergil watched her until the last sound of her hooves faded. Then he turned to Rize and Zuri, and Titania, who was standing in absolute silence, simply watching… “Let’s continue.”

[…Meanwhile…]

The heat was stifling.

Katharina felt sweat dripping down her forehead, not only from the scorching atmosphere, but from the tension consuming her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the creature before her—a lava salamander, six meters of pure, incandescent muscle, its black scales interspersed with veins of living magma that pulsed like burning veins.

But her biggest problem wasn’t the monster.

It was the fact that she couldn’t find Vergil.

Her heart was beating rapidly, her mind trying to decide whether to scream his name or gather strength to face what lay ahead. The salamander’s glowing claws rose, the air shimmering around it like glass about to melt.

Katharina took a deep breath, feeling the tension build in every fiber of her body.

“Get out of my way,” her voice came out almost a growl.

In a single movement, she lunged forward. The blade glowed with concentrated energy, slicing the space between them with a sharp, dry sound. The impact was brutal. The salamander’s head had no time to react; the blow sliced through its defenses like hot butter.

The creature let out a muffled roar before collapsing. Its massive body fell sideways, sinking part of the lava riverbank. The heat increased as the current of magma began to engulf the carcass, bubbling and spewing sparks as it dragged the salamander away.

Katharina lowered the blade slowly, her muscles relaxing for only a second.

She took a deep breath, ready to leap after Vergil again, when a heavy sound echoed around her.

Ploc… ploc… ploc…

She whirled around, her eyes narrowing. From the thick, glowing chains, silhouettes began to rise. Not one, not two… but dozens. Scales gleaming like molten iron, eyes like live coals, long, curved claws.

Salamanders, dozens of them, emerging from the banks and the very bed of the lava river. Their every movement spat out sprays of magma that solidified in the air before hitting the ground.

Katharina felt her stomach churn. It wasn’t fear—it was pure nervousness, mixed with anger and frustration. Vergil’s absence was a constant weight, and now, surrounded, that pressure seemed to boil over.

The heat intensified, as if the air itself were trying to push her down.

The salamanders began to advance as one, their mouths opening to expel short jets of liquid lava.

Katharina braced her feet, raising the blade. “Great,” she murmured, almost in a whisper, “…you’ll all regret it.”