Vergil stood still for a few moments after hearing the word that echoed from that being, not as simple speech, but as an absolute command that seemed to pierce the air and settle into the very structure of the environment: "Lucifer."
There was something profoundly artificial about that statement, but at the same time it wasn't purely mechanical. It was an execution without emotion, yet sustained by something alive, something that breathed and responded, even if in a limited way.
He showed no irritation, nor haste; on the contrary, his eyes narrowed with growing interest, as if he had found a rare phenomenon amidst the monotony of the predictable.
His hand rested on the hilt of the sword, still unhurried to draw it completely, while his mind already advanced far beyond that first contact.
